#I can't believe it's taken this long to finish the chapter

[onlyhereforthestories]

No Hay Distancia (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A fic for you all finally. I'm sorry it's taken so long! It is slightly different to how I normally write so I hope it is okay!

The sun had dipped low on the horizon as a warm, golden glow bathed the city of Barcelona from your place on the balcony. It was a beautiful evening, and for you, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. You had just moved to this vibrant Spanish city from Seattle, leaving behind your time at OL Reign and starting your new one with FC Barcelona Femení. The change had been exhilarating and intimidating, but the one thing that made all the change worthwhile was the anticipation of finally being with the love of your life, Alexia Putellas.

You and Alexia had met three years ago; your connection was ignited by your shared passion for football. Alexia's mesmerizing skills on the field had drawn you to her instantly and had you almost tripping over your own feet mid-match at the beauty she held. Despite living miles apart, you had managed to build a strong and steady bond. It had been a long-distance relationship full of late-night calls, text messages, and fleeting visits whenever either of your busy schedules allowed. You were another world away, playing as part of the OL Reign team, while she was at her home club of Barcelona, and the time difference often felt like a cruel challenge. Not anymore, though.

The evening was drawing to a close, and you had yet to even start to unpack the many suitcases you had with you, not sure where your belongings belonged in your now shared home. Not only did you have what you had brought on the plane with you, but you also had some storage things coming via courier soon. Something you might not have told Alexia about just yet. Your excitement was building as you started on the first case, although unpacking a case was hard to do when a small dog kept jumping in it. You knew the drawing in of the evening meant that Alexia would be finished with training soon and therefore should be coming home for the first official time to your shared home. You kept glancing at your phone, waiting for Alexia to finish her training session, a session you would be joining soon enough. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Finally, your phone buzzed with a message from Alexia: "Buenas tardes, mi amor. I'm on my way home now. I really can't wait to see you!" You couldn't help the smile and massive bubble of excitement that surged through you at reading that simple message. You had to read the "on my way home" part a couple of times to believe this was your reality.

When you heard the distinct sound of a key scratching into a lock, you practically sprinted to meet her at the door, Nala hot on your heels almost as excited as you were for the woman’s arrival. There she was, Alexia, with her signature smile that could melt anyone's heart but especially yours. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she pulled you into a tight hug. It felt like more than a dream; it felt like a moment you had been waiting for years for was finally happening.

"¡Te extrañé tanto, mi amor!" Alexia whispered, her voice laced with genuine emotion, and you could feel the slight lump in her throat that she swallowed down as she spoke.

"I missed you too, Lex," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes from the memories of saying that countless times over FaceTime or the phone rather than in person. Not only were those tears for that, but they were also for the fact that you wouldn't have to say it that way or as often anymore.

You cherished every second you had right then, soaking her in. This moment felt like your life was finally getting started after being on hold for the few years you had been apart. Your heart ached thinking about the lonely nights you had endured, the longing you had felt when Alexia was on the other side of the world. But now, it was all worth it. The physical proximity made your love feel stronger than ever, making the time spent apart worthwhile.

Over the next few weeks, you explored your new home with Alexia by your side as your very excitable tour guide. You visited famous landmarks, indulged in delicious Spanish cuisine, and shared countless tender moments that you had been waiting to share consistently together for ages. The days of counting the time difference to see what hour of the day your other half was in seemed like a distant memory something you were beyond grateful for.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling training session, Alexia collapses onto the couch completely exhausted. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her passion and dedication to her sport unwavering even on training days.

"Rough day at the office?" You tease knowing full well what her day has been like, yours equally as hard. Although due to you being a defender and her being an attacker, the days of training had been slightly different for each of you.

Alexia chuckles, her voice tinged with fatigue. "You have no idea.” The statement was accompanied by a smirk and a wink one that had you stifling a giggle at her antics. “But it's all worth it when I get to come home with you." The statement has a blush taking over your whole face.

You join her on the couch, snuggling up to her. "I'm proud of you, Lex. You're amazing."

Alexia leans in for a sweet, tender kiss, her lips soft and warm against yours. "And I'm proud of you too. You've adapted to this new life so well."

You smile, feeling a surge of happiness. "It's easy when I have you by my side."

The two of you sat there for a while before you pushed up off her and got to your feet. When you looked back at the woman on the sofa you chuckled at the pout, she was sending your way. “Stop that, someone needs to make dinner and seeing as you almost fell asleep two seconds ago, I think it's going to have to be me.” You sent her a wink before heading to the kitchen.

About 30 minutes later you had plated up the simple chicken and pasta dish into two bowls and wandered back into the living space to give Alexia her bowl. When you walked around the couch you couldn’t help the smile that instantly spread across your face at the sight of the woman sleeping with Nala curled up in the space in front of her chest.

You placed the bowls on the coffee table and gently ran your fingers through the older woman’s hair trying to stir her slowly and gently from her slumber. When that didn’t work and she just sighed contently, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to her hairline brushing a few soft kisses there as you spoke gently but not too quietly. “Come on mi amor time to wake up, you need to eat before we can go to bed properly.”

Alexia's eyes blinked up at you a few times as she slowly came back to the land of the awake. Her legs stretched out as her body shouted at her to get out of the cramped position, this action woke up the sleeping dog who shouted her distaste for being woken up with a sharp bark before leaping off the couch and trotting to her food bowl which you had placed her dinner in before serving your own.

By the time Alexia had sat up, you had both bowls back in your hands and ready to go, your stomach letting Alexia know how ready you were to eat with a rather loud rumble. As she grabbed her plate from you, she teased you the whole evening was very domestic and was one of the first evenings you thought about how far you had come to be here doing just this with the woman.

As the months continue to pass by, your connection with Alexia deepens. You share countless moments that strengthen your bond, from the simple pleasures of waking up together and preparing meals to playing alongside each other on the football pitch. Your love is evolving and growing stronger with each challenge you face and each triumph you achieve together.

Barcelona becomes more than just a city; it becomes your home. Its streets, its people, and its culture all contribute to the love that starts to bloom in your chest when thinking about the city. You explore hidden gems with the people around you, you savour the delicious Spanish cuisine both home-cooked and in restaurants, and you revel in the rich history that surrounds you. You were exploring one of these small gems when Alexia turned to you, her eyes filled with love. "I can't believe you're finally here with me," she said, her voice soft and full of emotion you never thought you would see from the normally strong, stoic woman, not outside of the home anyway.

You smile and take Alexia's hand in yours. "I couldn't be happier here. Being with you is all I ever wanted and I’m so glad we made it work and get to be here in the same place together."

Your lips meet in a sweet, lingering kiss, sealing your love in the city where your dreams have come true. No longer does distance stand between you, for now, you're together, and your love will only continue to grow stronger with each passing day.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Alexia settled more into your life together in Barcelona. You found your footing as a new star for the FC Barcelona women’s football team alongside your partner, making connections with your teammates and fitting in perfectly. The routines you and Alexia had created slowly made life in the sunny city run smoothly. If one cooked, the other washed up; if one hoovered, the other did the laundry, and so on. This solidified the decision you made to move thousands of miles away from your original home, making the wonderful connection between you even stronger.

Yet, like any relationship, challenges arose. The demands of your and Alexia's football careers and your joint busy schedules tested your commitment and your time together. The time difference between Barcelona and Seattle had once been a source of frustration, but new challenges required just as much resilience and understanding.

One evening, after a particularly tough practice, Alexia sank into the couch, her face etched with exhaustion. "I can't believe the season is already halfway over. I feel like I have been playing for a year straight already."

You sat down beside her, offering a comforting touch by bringing her into you and letting her rest against your body. "You are doing amazing, Lex. But it is okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes with all the added captain's stress you have going on. I am always here for you."

Alexia leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against the support. "I know, but it is just so hard. Balancing everything—training, matches, the media, and us. I feel like I have been neglecting our time together because I have a promo deal to complete or do an interview for someone. I know we still get evenings, but I am just so exhausted when it comes to them, and I don’t feel like I’m giving you enough."

Understanding the weight of the responsibilities that came with Alexia's position, you reassured her, "You give me all you can at the time and that will always be okay with me. Any time I get with you is perfect and even when that time is limited or maybe even just snuggling up in bed together, it is still time with you. Not too long ago I was only getting to see your face on a screen and now I get to see it in person all the time. I get to fall asleep at the same time as you and wake up to you. So please don’t worry about us, okay? We have got this and will get through it together. I promise."

A few weeks after Alexias confessed to how she was struggling a bit with commitments and time together another hurdle was thrown your way. Your evening was meant to be spent together having a date night at a restaurant you have both been wanting to try but here you were sat with Alexia on the couch in comfy clothes instead, both of you mentally and physically drained from your respective commitments. "I know it's tough, Lex," you began, "but look at how far we've come. We've tackled challenges together before, and we'll do it again. Your dedication is incredible, and I'm so proud of everything you've achieved."

Alexia's tired eyes met yours, filled with gratitude, care and love. "And I'm proud of you, too. You've always been there for me, no matter what. I couldn't ask for a better partner in this journey."

In those moments, the challenges that once seemed insurmountable become stepping stones on your shared path. Your love remains a constant, a light that guides you through the most challenging times. You both know that no matter what the future holds, you have each other's backs, ready to face any obstacles together. The challenges may be different, but your love remains as strong as ever, a bond that continues to grow with every test it faces.

The season has come to a close and you aren’t far off completing your first year in Barcelona when you find yourself and Alexia on the rooftop of your apartment building, the city's lights stretching out before you like a sea of stars. You lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view, and Alexia joins you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder so she can look out too but keep you close.

"This city is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder.

"It is, but it's even better with you here," Alexia replies, turning her head slightly to press a small chaste kiss against the side of your neck. This prompts you to want more so you turn to face her, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. The warm night air and the city's enchanting lights create the perfect backdrop for your love to soar. As the kiss deepens, you can't help but marvel at how far you've come since your first meeting, how much you have both overcome to be here and together nonetheless.

The city's lights continue to twinkle below you, a testament to the vibrant life of Barcelona. As you stand there with Alexia, you can't help but think about how much your lives have changed since that first match, the one where you couldn't take your eyes off her mesmerizing skills and beauty. It's been an incredible journey, one filled with love, passion, challenges and unwavering support for each other.

You turn your attention back to the woman who had you wrapped up in her arms, a radiant smile on your face. "You know, I used to watch Barcelona's games on TV back in Seattle, dreaming about being here and playing with you. Now, it's all come true."

Alexia grins, her eyes shining with pride. "Dreams do come true, mi amor. I'm so glad you're living yours and that it matches perfectly with mine."

The night is still young, and the possibilities seem endless. With your hands entwined and resting on your stomach, you both look out at the city knowing that your life together was just beginning. You can’t help but feel grateful for the journey that has brought you to this moment here, for the love you get to experience and for Barcelona that has become the backdrop to the next chapter in your life. A life you know will be filled with love, football, and the promise of a future with the woman you have loved for a long time from afar.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The Book Store

Fandom: Marvel (Dad's Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: Bucky is in his late 40s, reader in her mid to late 20s. inspo came from these recent pics of seb. ugh. also broke this up into parts cause i didn't want a long oneshot

You glance over your shoulder as Carol, the owner of the second-hand book shop, go through your box of books you were looking to sell.

"It'll take me about twenty minutes to go through this stuff, so feel free to look around. You know the drill."

You give her a salute, "Aye aye, Captain," you turn on your heel and go towards Bucky in the DVD aisle.

"You find anything good?"

He looks up with a grin, "A movie I haven't seen in a while. It's funny. We can watch it back at your dad's."

You shrug, "Sure."

"All finished?" he asks, looking at another DVD.

"Carol said it'd take about twenty minutes for her to go through everything and such. So I'm just gonna peruse around." You gesture to the romance section and Bucky nods, watching you walk towards the book shelves.

He looks around the DVD section for a little longer until he was satisfied with his find. He walks over to the romance section where you are. He just watches as you read the back of a book and you're hesitant to put it back. But you eventually slip it back into it's spot on the shelf.

"You're not gonna get it?" you jump when you suddenly hear Bucky's voice.

"Oh, um, I want to, but I shouldn't. I already have some books I'll be getting," you lift up two books you're already carrying.

"I'll get it for you," he says with confidence as he approaches you and picks up the book you just put away.

"Bucky, no."

"Bucky, yes. You seemed really interested in it. Besides, this is me encouraging you to broaden your mind, exercise your brain and whatnot."

With the book in hand, he heads towards the front where Carol is finishing off your pile of books.

"Oh good! I can take the entire pile for $30. Sound good?"

"Yup!"

Carol hands you the receipt and cash and places the books off to the side. She turns to Bucky, "Ready for purchase?"

"Yeah," he places the DVD and book onto the counter then takes the two books in your hands, "These too."

"Bucky-"

"Nope."

"But-"

"I got it," he says with a wink and pays quickly before you could even pull out your wallet.

After paying, he hands you your books and you thank Carol, waving good-bye as you and Bucky exit the shop.

You sigh, "Can't believe you did that."

He shrugs with a mischievous smirk, "It's not a big deal, sugar. Besides, wouldn't want you to miss out on the steamy scene in chapter seven."

You whip your head to him, completely taken back at the fact that he knows one of the books he just bought you was a spicy romance book.

You gulp, "You've read these books?"

"A few of them. They're...interesting," he says with a look that makes you start to sweat and your cheeks heat up.

"Right. Cool," you mumble, chucking your new books into your backseat and getting into the car. You try not to imagine Bucky reading about fairies fucking as you drive to your next destination.

Maybe having your dad's best friend accompany you on errands was a bad idea after all. If only your boyfriend, John didn't procrastinate on his Master's program assignment...

[amiya-shirou]

Finished reading Rides to Lake Silberneherze and wow. Degenbrecher was obviously going to be one of my favorites but I didn't expect to also end up liking Harold so much. I thought he was mostly going to be a political rival for Silverash, yet he's actually such a good foil for Degen instead... in love with their fight and conversation atop the frozen lake.

(Spoilers alert for the last part of the event)

Thinking about the earlier scene with his soldier still suffering from nightmares from the war. How both him and his men were so much happier living a normal life in Kjerag than as soldiers, very much mirroring Degenbrecher's own experience (funnily enough both her and Harold are tremendously popular with the citizens). He doesn't even want to harm the place and is ready to make concessions most nobles would never make

But no matter how gentle of a person he is, no matter if he's one of the "good nobles" and "good soldiers", he's still part of the nobility and the military. as long as he remains part of Victoria's war machine, he'll keep being an instrument of fear and suffering and bring those dangers even to the sole place he hoped could have remained safe from it

Degenbrecher also found comfort in the peace and warmth of Kjerag after a lifetime of fighting, but while it's true that they're the same in that they're both ready to take arms again if it's for their home, I believe it's important to note that Degen is fighting specifically a defensive battle to protect the home she chose for herself, while Harold is actively going against his morals for the sake of his native country that has taken an offensive position against a much smaller power. Harold is fighting as a Viscount of Victoria, leading an army of thousands of soldiers under orders from a Duke that doesn't care about his wishes. Degenbrecher is fighting by her own will as just a single citizen of Kjerag.

The segment in which she fights a thousand soldiers is truly breathtaking. The narration and the characters treat her as an hero coming out straight out from the stories.

Meanwhile, the Victorian military explicitly contrasts her as the cold realism that suffocates all legends of heroism (very reminiscent of the Steam Knights segment in chapter 11 I'd say).

And looking at this, they really do represent their respective countries. Victoria is the so-called greatest nation in the world, using its immense power to "bully" (as Leto puts it) the much smaller, seemingly powerless Kjerag. But despite all this, Kjerag resists. It might not be able to topple Victoria, just like Degen can't defeat an army by herself, but they can resist. They can make it hard for them. They can keep them at bay for some time, maybe long enough for things to change. Despite all odds, Kjerag stood up to Victoria, and Degenbrecher stood up to an army.

And to me it's just so, so important that the very leader of that cold "machine" was himself an admirer of the knight from the stories.

He had to step over so much of what he loved for the sake of a Duke that didn't care about any of it. Meanwhile, as much of a mastermind Silverash might be, he never forced Degenbrecher to do anything. Kjerag welcomed her, and so she simply defended Her.

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 8

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You see Elvis perform for the first time in person and it is more than you've ever dreamed of. Then later, you have a much needed conversation with him.

TW: Unprotected sex, smut, pain kink

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3474

A/N: It finally happened!! Super excited about this chapter!

Waking up in the morning, you half expect the light to be on, but it's dark, almost completely save for the barely rising sun peeking through the blinds. Elvis must've turned the light off at some point in the night. After you asked him to stay, he held you until you fell asleep, which didn't prove to take very long. You were emotionally drained.

Looking over at the digital alarm clock, it reads 7:43A.M. As your eyes adjust more to the room, you look around for Elvis, but he's gone. Suddenly your heart aches.

He didn't stay.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but you thought he might've stayed with you throughout the night. Maybe it's for the best that he hadn't. You shouldn't get attached to him. You sigh as you pull the covers away from your body. Flipping on the light, you're about to head into the bathroom to shower when you see something on your bedside table. Approaching slowly, you see a note.

Hi baby,

I'm sorry I left you. I had to be up early to practice a song in the jungle room. I had breakfast made for you and if you'd like it, you can come down and watch for a little while. I'd like it if you did.

P.S. I thought Sonny was a little shit for getting that bookmark. I guess I wanted to give you something too.

~Elvis~

You don't realize the stupid smile plastered on your face as you look just to the right of the note and see a beautiful silver bracelet with a diamond in the middle. It looks so expensive.

"Oh God," you mumble a tear coming to your eye as you quickly swipe it away, slipping it onto your wrist.

It fits perfectly.

Your heart strains as you bring your hand to it. You almost can't believe it. Opening the drawer, you grab your romance book, opening the front page and placing the note there for safe keeping.

Heading to the bathroom, you decide you might put a little more effort into your appearance today.

---

You've just finished breakfast and sit at the table, suddenly frozen. Your hand comes to your new bracelet, a sigh leaving your lips. You've never seen Elvis sing in real life, just videos online. Taking one last drink of your coffee, you stand up from your seat, smoothing out your dress.

Maybe you dressed up a little too much. Looking down at your dress, it's the second nicest one you could find. You're wearing a floral jumper dress that looks like it was taken straight out of a magazine. Since Elvis is the one that bought it, you imagine it might've been.

Walking over to the stairs, your hand grabs the railing to steady yourself as you slowly descend the steps. After a few short steps down, the music starts swelling. Then Elvis' voice. Taking a calming breath as you approach the door, you turn the knob, slowly opening it.

For about the dozenth time since you've been in 1961, you can't believe your eyes. As you slowly walk down the last few steps, you watch as Elvis is lost in a song, There's Always Me. Sonny, Jerry, and a few other of Elvis' friends are off to the side of him, watching him. You see an open space on one of the couches and decide to take it. Sitting gently as to not interrupt, you are entranced. He sweats slightly as he wipes his face, his body swaying with the slow song.

"Hey, honey. You look real nice this morning," Sonny whispers suddenly.

You hadn't noticed that he moved from his previous position on a seperate couch. You almost don't respond, you don't want to take your eyes away from the man singing in front of you. It is beyond anything you've ever seen before. When you register what Sonny has just said to you, a blush comes to your face.

"Thank you Sonny," you whisper back.

He studies just how entranced you are.

"Ah, yeah, he's pretty great isn't he? He just get's lost up there, in the music."

You nod your head, your eyes traveling back to him. You suddenly feel very lucky.

"Yes, he is."

Elvis' eyes connect with yours at that very moment. He smiles. You have to force yourself not to hide your face as you look away, your heart jumping in your chest.

---

Opening the romance book, Loyal and all, you sit on one of the arm chairs in the living room. You figure it's time to start reading this to not arouse suspicion as to why you are never seen reading, having only read the time travel book in the confines of your bedroom.

Flipping to the first page, you read the first few sentences. A doctor and his nurse are arguing. The nurse’s mother had decided she is to travel with them on their journey to Budapest. The doctor is trying to convince her to make her mother leave.

"But you can stop her, surely? Or your father can stop her.""No." Marika shook her head and smiled suddenly, showing wonderful teeth. "She is like me. It is not so easy to tell her what she may do or not do."

You decide you like Marika as you settle further into the chair, the book enticing you.

You read on for a little further until your attention keeps getting pulled out. It's the couch. Your eyes keep drifting over to it. Sighing, you move to dog ear the book, then remember the bookmark Sonny gave you that currently sits on on of the tables upstairs. You'll have to remember to grab it next time.

Dog-earring the book, you close it and place it in your lap, gazing at the long sofa. How can something as simple as a couch transport you back in time over sixty years. It just doesn't make sense. You try to conjure up memories from that day, but nothing that you don't already know comes up. You started to feel nauseous, you got a piercing headache, you sat down for one moment on the sofa and you were suddenly back in 1961.

You wish you are back in your room right now, reading your time travel book to try and see if anything can help you. You wish you had your phone. Elvis had kept your items hidden away after you'd left his room, and you don't imagine your phone would work in this time regardless.

Elvis will probably want a conversation with you at some point soon. How much could you tell him? What would he ask you?

You also wonder if he'll bring up last night. You wouldn't know what to say. You are still so jumbled in your mind about it. You can't have a connection with him, you aren't even supposed to be here. You are so engrossed in your own thoughts, you don't hear someone approaching.

"Hey (y/n) I'm about to head out and pick up a few things. Is there anything you need?"

You jump as you whip your head in the direction of the voice, your heart leaping in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare ya'" Sonny laughs, his eyes searching yours inquisitively.

"Oh, it's alright," you laugh in relief. "Um, not that I can think of. Thank you, Sonny."

He nods, looking at the book resting in your lap, absent of the bookmark. Your face burns, you're not entirely sure why. You don't have feelings for Sonny, but you're starting to suspect that he may have feelings for you.

---

You smooth out your dress and you try to contain your nerves. After dinner, Elvis asked you if you would meet him back in the jungle room, just the two of you, at 7:30. You knew this conversation was coming, but you're not entirely sure if you're ready for it. You don't know if you ever would be.

You release a breath, your hands becoming clammy as you turn the same knob you had this morning. Closing it behind you, you cautiously descend the steps.

"Ah, there you are. Come on, honey, I've been waitin' for ya," you hear the familiar voice before you see it.

Walking down a few more steps, Elvis’ face finally comes into view. He is already looking your direction, a soft smile on his face. His gaze momentarily travels down your body, taking in your dress, before playing it off by looking down at a box he placed on the coffee table. The same box that contains all of your items. Your stomach drops slightly.

Approaching further, you see a bottle of whiskey with two glasses. You raise your eyebrow as you approach him. He chuckles as he follows your gaze.

"Well, I know I won't be able to be sober for some of the stuff we talk about. Do they still drink in your time?"

You snort as a thrill runs through you. You're about to get the opportunity to finally talk about this with someone. Then you look towards the shut door, and back at him.

"Are you sure no one will be able to hear us?"

He shakes his head, motioning for you to sit down before responding. You take a seat across from him before he sits down at the opposite chair. So formal, not like last night.

"No, there's not much sound that gets upstairs from here. The boys are going out tonight anyway. And, just to make sure no one comes down here," he starts before getting out of his seat, disappearing momentarily up the steps before you hear a lock click, him walking back down a moment later.

"Now we can be sure we won't be disturbed."

A lump forms in your throat suddenly. You barely know him and you'll be talking to him about things that sound completely ridiculous. How will he react?

Picking up the liquor, he pops the top off before pouring himself a glass. Then he looks at you, his eyebrow raising in question. Why the hell not? It won't be any easier for you.

"Sure."

---

The first thing he asks you is how you got here in the first place. You explain how you were having a tour of his house and you suddenly felt very sick and sat on his couch. Then you were just...here. In 1961.

"I give tours of my house?" he inquires, confusion on his face.

You hesitate. Should you tell him he died? Looking at his face, his young twenty-six year old face, you think no. You can't tell him that. Besides, telling him only what is completely necessary would probably be your safest course of action.

"Your fans really wanted to tour your house, it just started happening one day."

At this he lets out a surprised chuckle.

"I still have fans in your time?"

You look at him, genuine surprise on his face. Your heart swells, you just want to reach out and touch his cheek, remind yourself he's actually here with you.

"You have no idea how much you still affect people."

Maybe you wouldn't have said it if you hadn't had a shot and a half of whiskey, but your glad you did.

His eyes connect with yours as a blush appears on his face. He picks up his glass, swirling the liquid around.

"You're really a fan, huh?"

You blush.

"Yes. Not crazy or anything, but I love your voice."

"Can I ask you somethin' else?"

You are terrified he's going to ask if he's dead, but you answer anyway.

"Yes."

"Do I have a good career?" His eyes are pleading with you to tell him something positive, so you do.

"Yes, you do."

---

Elvis can't stop laughing. You start giggling too. The two of you have had way too much alcohol, but you don't care. It's the first time you're having fun since you've been here.

"You gotta be shittin' me," he laughs out, his hands coming to wipe tears from his eyes.

"I'm not! It's my phone," you laugh.

"That ain't no phone! That's a- it's a tv or somethin'."

You tried to turn on your phone, but it's completely drained of battery, so you just described to Elvis what exactly it does.

"This is a phone, baby," Elvis slurs slightly, moving to get off the chair, walking to a side table a few feet away from him where there is a rotary phone resting.

He picks it up and pretends to have a conversation before slamming it down. "That's a damn phone," he laughs, letting himself fall on the couch, closer to your chair.

"Some people get those phones for decoration. They call it vintage," you hiccup out, your cheeks pink.

"Vintage! Hell, I can't take this," he howls.

As you laugh with him as you try to calm yourself. Getting up as well, you walk over to the phone, picking it up and turning it over in your hands before putting it up to your ear, hearing the dial tone.

This is crazy.

Turning back around, you let yourself fall on the couch next to Elvis. His gaze travels to you as his eyes get hazy. He looks at your lips. Your heart leaps in your chest. You look at his.

"What year did you say you were from?"

"2024."

"You're shittin' me," he gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly.

You shake your head.

"I'm not. I was so freaked out. And then I saw you and freaked out, then you kissed me and I-" you stop, your face burning.

He turns his body, scooting closer to you. You can feel his body heat as he leans forward.

"Did you like it...when I kissed you?" he mumbles, his breath washing over you.

A small voice inside your head tells you that you shouldn't be doing this. Right now though, you can't find it within you to care.

"Yes," you whisper, leaning in towards him.

Suddenly, his palm is cupping your cheek as he leans in further, his lips connecting with yours. This time, you respond as you deep the kiss, your legs coming to crawl ever so closer, straddling him. He hums in response as he moves his hands to your waists.

"Are there any boys like me in the future?"

You giggle into his mouth.

"No," you breathe.

"I'll have to make sure you get your time's worth then, shouldn't I?" he mumbles, his hands traveling down to your thighs, grasping them gently as he lays you back against the couch.

You hum in agreement, your hands coming to muss his hair, eliciting a groan from his lips, his mouth connecting back to yours as he hovers on top of you, his hips dipping down to yours.

You moan as you feel his erection, pressing up into it as your hands travel to his shirt, slipping underneath. He is quick to help you as attempts to undo the buttons, fumbling.

"Damn it, I don't have the time," he murmurs before just ripping it, buttons flying.

You gasp in surprise before a laugh escapes you as he shimmies out of it, throwing it on the floor. He looks to you his eyes gleaming as a toothy smile plays on his face. Leaning forward, he brings his lips back to yours, slipping his tongue inside. Sighing, you trail your nails along his back and your tongue dances with his.

"You're a good kisser," he whispers as he allows his hands to travel your body, finding your breasts.

You blush as you lean up into his hands. He groans, looking down at your chest. Suddenly, he removes his hands as he moves them to grab your own, gently pulling you to sit. You follow his lead as you sit up. His hands travel to your thighs, slipping underneath the fabric.

"Do you want me to take this off?" He whispers, his eyes connecting with yours.

"Yes, I do."

And so he does. His hands delicately hike the dress up around your waist before pulling it up your torso, freeing your body from the fabric. Now he looks at you in only your bra and underwear, a sigh falling from his lips.

"Can't believe I haven't been able to touch you before now. You look gorgeous. I've been thinkin' about you a lot,"

"You have?" you ask pulling him back down on top of you.

He smoothes out your hair as he looks in your eyes.

"Yeah, I have."

With a soft blush on his face, he leans forward kissing your neck. His hands travel back to your chest, covered now in just your bra.

"God," you mumble, your hands moving to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

You tentatively raise your hips to meet his, feeling his erection more prominent than before. He responds to your actions, groaning as he gently grinds against you.

"God baby," he pants, before reaching behind you, undoing your bra after a few failed attempts, pulling it from your body.

He is quick to attach his lips to your left nipple, sucking gently as he kneads the other. You grip onto his hair as a whine escapes you, grinding against him with more urgency.

His shifts his weight suddenly, releasing your chest as he reaches for his pants, popping the button and undoing the zipper. When he pulls them down he takes his boxers with them, sighing at the relief of restraints from his member.

You are quick to take your underwear off as well as you discard them on the floor. You watch as he strokes his dick slowly a few times.

"Lord," he grunts looking at your now fully exposed body.

He eyelids are drooped as his eyes connect back to yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

You grasp his hair again to keep him close. You never want this feeling to end. You bite his bottom lip as your brows furrow in pleasure when his finger finds its way to your clit. He groans in response.

"Do you like it when I do that, honey?" he breathes, his finger increasing it's pace slightly.

Your grip tightens on his hair, tugging.

"Yes, God, yes."

He hums before bringing his dick to line up at your opening.

"Can I baby, please?" he whines.

God, you can't take it.

"Elvis, yes, please," you moan.

A moment later, he enters you. You gasp, your hands tumbling to his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Slowly, he pulls his hips back before sinking back in slowly. You both moan. His lips come to your chest again, taking your right nipple now as he takes your hands from his shoulders, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You squeeze his hands as he slowly picks up his pace, crying out softly.

"Good God," he groans, licking all over your chest.

You think you feel a few sucks, leaning up into him. You are about to complain when he lets go of your hands before he grabs your thigh, hiking it above his waist while his other one goes back to your center, finding the spot you need him most.

Your head dips back against the throw pillow as you groan again, you nails coming to scratch his back.

"God, woman," he grunts when you connect your lips to his neck, biting gently.

"Keep pullin' at me, I like it when it hurts a little," he breathes, giving you the incentive to move your hands to his hair again, tugging.

He lets out a guttural groan as he speeds up his movements only slightly, both on your clit and the thrust of his hips. He pulls away just enough to watch himself pulling out of you before sinking bank in. You look with him.

"Shit, honey I'm gettin' close," he moans pathetically, keeping his gentle pace.

You start to feel that familiar feeling as well. You move your grip to his shoulders.

"Me too."

At hearing this, his finger picks up its pace, once languid circles turning tight and determined. He leans back down, his lips coming down to yours. When he bites your bottom lip, tugging slightly, the building feeling comes to a peak as you cry out, grabbing onto him and pulling him close.

He pulls out just in time to come undone on your stomach, his groan traveling through the room.

You gasp as you come back down to earth.

"Wow," you sigh, making him chuckle as he grabs his shirt off the ground, wiping his mess off of you.

Switching positions, he pulls you on top of him as you rest your head on his chest, hearing the rapid beat of his heart. He brings his hand to thread through your hair.

You sigh. Then, sleep takes you.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @goldobsessionsworld @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @father-of-2cats @sissylittlefeather @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[the-peak-tmnt]

Reciprocity TMNT AU Masterpost

Is Reciprocity a comic or a fanfic?

Reciprocity is a Mutant Mayhem fanfic on Ao3, but there's tons of awesome fanart! Fanart on Tumblr

Fanart on Twitter

Commissioned art

Reciprocity asks

FAQs below!

Poster by @ellieskellyartwork! What is Reciprocity about?

Shortly after their acceptance by the human world, Leo is forcibly taken by an unknown entity. A terrible revelation from Leo's captor leads everyone to believe Leo is dead...everyone, except for Raph.

There's something Raph can't explain, something only he can feel, something everybody wants him to ignore. It whispers softly somewhere in the deepest corners of his mind: he's still here.

Raph can't explain the strange dreams he never seems to remember, either, or why he's started having panic attacks. And Raph definitely can't explain why this new Jones guy at school seems to be the only person who doesn't think he's crazy. Casey seems a little crazy himself, but with Raph still picking up the pieces of his family's shattered life, he'll take whatever help he can get on his mission to find Leo.

Wait...is Leo actually dead?

No! Leo is still alive! I personally can't handle fics where any of the turtles are dead because it's too sad for me lol! Leo is alive, but presumed dead by everyone but Raph.

What are the tags?

Is the fic finished?

The story is still a WIP. There are currently 19 chapters, and this masterpost will be updated with every new chapter release.

Will it have a happy ending?

YES!!! I promise that this story will have a happy ending!

How long will the fic be?

There will be 3 arcs in total. The first arc is just about to conclude in Chapter 20. I don't have an exact chapter count or estimate, sorry!

The last update was [X amount of time] ago. Is this fic abandoned?

I will not abandon this fic. However, I'm an adult in my mid-30s with a very time consuming job. Sometimes I work from home, and other times I'm on site. I also travel a lot, both for work and fun. I work on the fic when I can, and do not have a regular posting schedule. I'm sorry!

If you want to see more frequent updates about new chapter status, I am way more active over on Twitter!

Bonus Content:

Mutant Mayhem Propaganda tag 😈 (aka me yelling about how much I love Mutant Mayhem)

[stromuprisahat]

The climax of Malyen's two-person blame train

Siege and Storm- Chapter 18

Starting here, I've analysed Malyen's outburst about losing Alina to her importance. I've saved the end for new post, because Aleksander gets dragged in the middle of it, and uses it accordingly.

Ironically, his tantrum only makes Alina feel so lonely she unwittingly reaches out to Aleksander.

And he turns it against her, slightly twisting the facts she doesn't know how else to interpret.

Why is he immediately offended?

Alina's obviously struggling with something, why isn't he worried FOR her? Why only bark "What?" and draw conclusion she's somehow treating him unjustly? They've just discussed she has a lot on her shoulders, but when she doesn't melt as soon as he kisses her, she's rejecting him?!

Even his body language is aggressive.

How can someone, who claims he ~cares~ about Alina as a person, jump to conclusions so quickly?! And force their view, as if they already agreed on it.

He only cares about how will he look if she dumps him.

Reading it over and over- All the time I was standing there, going on like a fool.- the wording makes it sound as if he weren't speaking just about his declaration, but more generally.

Cunty cunt pokes the wound while fresh, entangling it with his own words to make sure Alina remembers he's always right.

Another unfunded conclusion.

It's funny how it's always Alina unable to control her pussy. It never occurs to him she might realize he sucks and dump him without another man involved.

... hoping that you’d miss ME enough to tell them all to go to hell. "Supportive" boyfriend, hoping his girl will get sick of her duties enough to abandon everything AGAIN, and run off with him, because nothing matters more than him.

*giggling*

He just can't shut up, can he?

(Where else isn't he able to shut up?)

Alina finally finds the courage to tell him about her hallucinations, and Malyen demonstrates, why was she reluctant to tell him in the first place.

This is one of many reasons, why I don't believe Alina's "happy" post-R&R. The only close person she has left is Malyen, who:

a.) Hated her being Grisha, so how could he ever get even close to getting a whit of understanding of what was taken from her.

b.) Hates the Darkling being as much as mentioned. He has no clue what's binding him and Alina together, and never wants to hear about any of it.

c.) Just the fact he basically calls Alina Darkles' whore, and a month, two later it doesn't occur to him she might still harbor illicit feelings for him.. there's a new guy, right?! She totally forgot about that first one...

And he doesn't even let her finish a damn sentence.

He doesn't care what's wrong. He doesn't care what's going on. He doesn't care about Alina's feelings. She didn't fall over his neck, all excited, wet and willing, so she doesn't want him. She's just leading him on. Humiliating him... HIM, HIM, HIM...

Funny, how Alina's either whore, or a pathetic inexperienced virgin (derogatory, if you didn't notice), depending on what's easier to shame her with.

And Alina takes all the blame and necessary work on herself.

Alone, she falls apart. Shaky not only due to her duties, but lacking support of the only person she lets close.

Awww, when they comfort the other...

No, but I think this is genuine. On one hand Aleksander wants Alina for himself, but he also realizes the amount of pain she'll have to weather as long as she feels "so strongly" and clings to people, who can never understand her. Or in SOMEONE's case don't even want to.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY (see full series list here)

1993

On the 22nd of November you sit on the floor of your office late at night, watching the flames of your fireplace crackle and pop. Beside you, sits Harry, eyes focused on the fire as well. Sirius had asked him to wait in front of the fire in your office at one o'clock and for you to be there too. You can't say your heart isn't beating faster than the steady tick of the clock on the wall, worried and giddy at the same time.

"I'm sorry about this whole situation, Harry," you say with a sigh, reaching out to stroke Dubh's fur idly as she clambers into your lap. "I know this isn't what you want. I tried everything to get them to change the rules but nothing worked."

"Thanks," he says blankly, like he's used to being disappointed.

"And that article in the paper — "

"I didn't say anything of that. It's a lie," Harry responds quickly.

You nod. "I'm well aware. Rita Skeeter is...difficult." As soon as the words have left your mouth, you grimace, shaking your head. "Actually, she doesn't deserve that nicety. She's a bitch, Harry. A nasty old hag that has nothing better to do with her life than spread rumours and sensationalise everything in sight."

Harry seems slightly taken aback by your words but nods in fierce agreement nonetheless.

"My best advice to you, Harry, is to run for the hills every time you see her — or just wave me over if I'm near. I am well accustomed to small talk with people like her — the trick is to just get them talking about themselves."

He nods. "I don't plan on going anywhere near her ever again."

"Smart decision," you say, sighing. "And look — I know I'm not supposed to get involved but if you need any help whatsoever, just ask. There's plenty of useful spells I can teach you and tips I can give — anything at all."

Just then, the flames move in a peculiar fashion and Sirius' head appears in the fire. Both you and Harry let out a small gasp, and when you look at Harry, his face has broken into the biggest smile you've seen him wear in weeks.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaims immediately.

He looks different from the last time you seen him. His face had looked gaunt and sunken, but now he looks far healthier and his hair, which was long, matted and greasy, is now clean and neat. You're glad to see that though he's trimmed it a tad, he's kept the beard. He looks younger.

"Hello, Harry," he says, before he turns to you, smiling, "and hello to you too, love."

You bring your hand up and give him a tiny little wave, unable to stop the giddy smile taking over your face at the sight of him.

"How're you doing?" Harry asks.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asks firmly, returning his attention to his godson.

"I'm — " Harry stops himself suddenly, holding himself back. Just when you're about to check if he's alright, he spills. He tells the two of you everything: about how no one believes that he hasn't entered himself into the tournament, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he can't walk down a corridor without getting sneered at, and about the toll it's all taken on his friendship with Ron.

You feel your heart ache for him. He deserves absolutely none of this and you wish you could do more to help.

"Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons — I'm a goner," he finishes desperately.

Sirius is looking at Harry with deep concern as he says, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here...I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"Just break into Moony's house next time," you say simply, shrugging. "Sounds much easier to me."

Sirius gives you a look that suggests he already thought of that, but obviously decided not to as he was already coming north to see you two. You smile cheekily at him and he shakes his head, refocusing his attention on Harry.

"What do you need to warn me about?" Harry asks.

"Karkaroff," Sirius says. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"He's a Death Eater?" You're shocked. Just this morning you picked his fork off the ground for him at breakfast!

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

There already is an Auror at Hogwarts, you think. Or did Dumbly-dorr just forget about me?

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry says slowly. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius replies bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then named names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place...he's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

How do you not remember any of this? Surely you'd have seen this all mentioned in the papers around that time?

"Okay..." Harry says. "But...are you saying that Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," says Sirius, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry — "

"You and the rest of the world," he says bitterly.

"— and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius says hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he still can't spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So...what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But — why?"

Sirius hesitates.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he says apprehensively. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone cast the Dark Mark...and then — did you hear about that Ministry witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" You say. You recall reading that article about her disappearance not too long ago.

"Exactly...she disappeared to Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but...it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" says Harry.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sirius says grimly, glancing at you. "Do you remember her at school?"

You nod your head. "She was at Hogwarts when we were, a few years above us," you explain to Harry. "As thick as a board, she was. Very nosey, too. Awful combination."

"Makes her easy to lure into a trap," Sirius finishes.

"So...so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" says Harry. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don’t know," Sirius says with a shake of his head, "I just don’t know...Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing." Harry grins bleakly. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"You'll be fine," you reassure firmly, though you're not sure if it's for Harry's sake or your own. "I'll be there, all the rest of the teachers will be there, and there'll be that group of dragon keepers there too."

"Look, about these dragons," Sirius says, speaking quickly now, glancing around him furtively, "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a simple Stunning Spell — dragons are too strong and powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon — "

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," Harry says.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius tells him, looking him straight in the eye. "There is a way, a simple spell's all you need — "

Knock-knock.

At once, all three of you go dead silent and whip your heads to the closed door.

"Go, Sirius, quickly!" You hiss at him urgently.

You scramble to your feet, grabbing Harry's invisibilty cloak off the desk and launching it at him.

"Quick!"

Harry frantically pulls the cloak over his head and ducks behind your desk as you make you way over to the door, glancing back at the fireplace to see that Sirius' head has disappeared and the flames have returned to normal. You feel a small pang in your heart.

Who could possibly be knocking at your door at one o'clock in the morning? Surely everyone is asleep by now?

You pull the door open and are met with nothing but the quiet, dark corridor.

"Must've been Peeves," you mutter angrily, moving to close the door. Of course that poltergeist would find a way to cut your time with Sirius short.

"Oh, no, mistress, it is Bitsy!"

You look down in search of the voice and sure enough, at the foot of your door, is Bitsy, grinning up widely at you with her ginormous eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles on the wall. You notice that she's holding a tray of scones in her tiny hands.

"Bitsy?" You say in shock and confusion. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Bitsy was cleaning this corridor, mistress, and heard talking coming from mistress's office! And Bitsy thinks 'why is mistress up so late talking?' Perhaps she has a guest and is very hungry! Mistress was not at breakfast this morning, and I isn't seeing mistress in the kitchens either!"

While part of you feels angry and cheated that she's just interrupted your seldom chance to talk to your husband, you can't be mad at Bitsy and her big kind heart.

You chuckle softly. "Oh, Bitsy. You are far too kind to me. You're right, I didn't attend breakfast this morning nor did I go to the kitchens in the afternoon — I had breakfast with a friend of mine in Hogsmeade today. I should have told you."

Bitsy beams at you and holds the tray out for you to take. "Bitsy is glad to know you did not go hungry this morning. For you, mistress!"

You accept the tray with a smile. "Thank you, Bitsy. You are very kind — let me go fetch something to give you as a thank you."

"Oh, no, mistress! I cannot accept anything from you, I is just doing my duty!"

You leave her momentarily, placing the tray of scones down, grabbing a box off your desk and returning to hand it to her. "Film for your camera, Bitsy. So you can take more pictures. "

You don't miss the gleeful smile that spreads over Bitsy's face as she looks at the box in wonder. "Mistress, I must not — "

"I insist, Bitsy. Actually — I order you to accept the film. I know how much you love your camera," you tell her, pushing it into her hands.

"Thank you, mistress," she says gratefully, bowing to you. "I must return to my work now, unless mistress requires Bitsy for anything?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, but thank you, Bitsy. I think it's time for mistress to get some rest."

Bitsy leaves, clutching the film tightly in her hands and bowing out of your view before Disapparating. You close the door behind you, letting out a sigh as Harry stands up slowly, pulling the cloak off.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry," you say. "I really wish we could have more time with Sirius."

"Yeah, me too. Was that a house elf?"

You nod, chuckling. "Sure was. That's Bitsy. You see, I stay up much later than everyone else — I'm usually up in the tower because of course, the best time to view the stars is at night, so I sleep in the next day and miss breakfast a lot of the time. And when I do, I can go down to the kitchens and Bitsy and all the other house elves will give me something to eat — have done since I was in school myself and did the exact same thing. Bitsy is my saviour, honestly. She's an absolute gem."

"You're able to get into the Hogwarts kitchens?" Harry says curiously.

"Yep. There's a painting of a bowl of fruit down by the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room — just tickle the pear and the door'll open right up for you."

You know that as a teacher you probably shouldn't be telling him this, but you don't really care. You went there countless times as a student so why shouldn't he?

Harry nods thoughtfully before asking, "That spell Sirius mentioned, that could defeat a dragon...have you any idea what it is?"

You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against your hip as you search your brain for anything like that. "I don't, Harry, I'm sorry. Perhaps you could try confundus, and confuse it? I can't say I'm too familiar with dragons...now, you should go to bed, Harry. A good night's sleep for the next few days is what you need before the first task. And in the meantime, I'll have a look and see if I can figure something out for you."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'll find it easy to sleep," Harry remarks, throwing the cloak back over his head.

"Well, if you do find that you can't sleep, come up the Tower," you tell him with a smile, pulling the door open for his invisible figure. "I find stargazing is the best way to relieve stress and solve problems."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You feel like you're about to get sick. You stare at the Hungarian Horntail, huge and terrifying as she crouches protectively over her eggs, huffing great hot breaths out of her large nostrils. And there, standing across from this fearsome beast as though rooted to the spot, is Harry. The crowd roars around you but you can barely hear them as your stomach knots and twists and flips with sickening worry.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yells, raising his wand.

You wait. The crowd waits. Harry waits.

And then you see it. Harry's broomstick, his Firebolt, hurtles towards him and stops in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount it. You vaguely register Ludo Bagman roaring something over the crowd in response to this, but you're too focused on praying to whatever great deities you can to protect your godson. You're just so relieved that he managed to figure something out — and something so clever, too! Why hadn't you thought of a Summoning Spell? It's so simple. Sirius will be so proud of Harry when he finds out.

Harry rises into the air, the wind rushing through his hair, surveying the dragon not far below him. A sort of resolve seems to come over him and then he dives, forcing you to bring your hands up to cover your eyes in fear.

"Oh, I can't watch," you breathe. Beside you, Minerva gives you an understanding look as she watches on. You hear the rush of fire, the crowd cheering and screaming, and then —

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman roars. "Are you watching this, Mr Krum?"

You open your eyes just in time to see Harry plummet to the ground once more, just missing the burst of flames that flies from the Horntail's open maw — but not quick enough to completely avoid the whip of her tail and to your horror, one of the long spikes grazes Harry's shoulder, ripping his robes.

"Harry!" You shriek, practically about to chew your finger off with the alarming rate you're biting the tips of your nails as you reluctantly watch on, wishing for it to be over.

He begins to fly this way, then that, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire at him to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient enough threat to make her keep her eyes focused on him, tracking his every move.

The dragon's head sways with his movements, her eyes unwavering as she followed him, gruesome fangs bared. You can feel your heart palpitating in your chest. Harry rises even higher, the Horntail's head rising with him, her neck now stretched out to its fullest extent.

You jump as the Horntail lets out a deafening roar, her tail thrashing threateningly as she blows another burst of fire at him, which he thankfully dodges.

She opens her mouth and then she finally rears, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last and Harry seizes the opportunity to dive at an incredible speed. You can barely keep your eyes on him with the rate he's whistling through the air, hurtling towards the nest of eggs.

"Come on, come on, come on..." you chant, hands tapping frantically at the tops of your thighs as you sit on the edge of your seat, watching impatiently.

Harry takes his hands off his broom, seizes the golden egg, and with another huge burst of speed, he's off and soaring out over the stands. He tucks the egg safely under his uninjured arm, and looks out over the stands.

You can't help but jump out your seat, cheering yourself hoarse as you voice your praise and feel relief wash over your body like a tsunami. The noise around you is monumental, drumming in your ears like a jackhammer.

"Look at that!" Bagman yells. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter!"

The dragon keepers rush forward to subdue the Horntail and you hurry out of your seat, practically sprinting to the entrance of the enclosure. Minerva is hot on your heels and Moody and Hagrid have already beaten you, waiting with wide smiles for Harry to land.

"That was excellent, Potter!" Minerva cries as the boy hops off his broomstick. She points a shaky hand to his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Harry, you were brilliant!" You exclaim excitedly, eagerly pulling him in for a hug and beaming at him. Normally, you'd worry about other students thinking you have a favourite — which you do, of course you do — but today you couldn't care less, you're so overwhelmed with relief and swelling with pride for your godson. "Absolutely brilliant, Harry! Just — fantastic, honestly, I can't believe it, I was so worried — I'm so proud — "

"Thanks," Harry says, unable to keep the large smile on his face down, his face red.

"Yeh' did it, Harry!" says Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' — "

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry says loudly, so that Hagrid doesn't blather on about how he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand. You give a light chuckle.

Even Moody looks very pleased, the slightest of smiles tugging at his cracked lips. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter."

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." Minerva says, gesturing to the tent with her hand.

He leaves, giving you all a grin before heading into the tent and you just smile proudly after him, rolling on the balls of your feet.

"Oh, he was just excellent, wasn't he?" Minerva says to you, smiling. "The best out of the all the champions, by far!"

You nod enthusiastically. "Easily! Oh, Merlin, I am just so glad he came out alright, I thought I was going to chew my own hand off with worry..."

"He was migh'y," Hagrid says loudly, a sob racking his body as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a large handkerchief, bigger than your face, and blows into it. "Jus' migh'y."

"Oh, Hagrid," you say softly, reaching up to place a comforting hand on his back, smiling sympathetically.

Across the enclosure, the five judges are sitting at the end in raised seats draped in gold. The first judge, Madame Maxime, raises her wand in the air and what looks like a long silver ribbon shoots out of the end of it — forming the shape of a large figure eight.

"Not bad," you remark, clapping along with the crowd. "Must've been the injury that lost him marks..."

Crouch comes next, shooting a number nine into the air.

"Excellent!" Minerva exclaims.

Next, Dumbledore puts up a nine and the crowd yells louder than ever.

Ludo Bagman — ten.

You turn to Minerva in disbelief, matching looks of shock with each other before you eagerly applaud.

Now, Karkaroff raises his wand. He pauses for a moment, and then a number shoots out of his wand — four.

"What?" You yell indignantly, blinking several times to make sure your eyes aren't tricking you. "A four?"

"How shameful, he gave his own student a ten!" Minerva remarks angrily.

Several members of the crowd seem to agree with you, bellowing angrily and booing at Karkaroff's biased marking.

Suddenly, Sirius' words ring in your head.

He's a Death Eater.

You feel your spine chill as you look across the enclosure at Karkaroff's steely expression, steadfast in his decision to reward Harry four marks.

Scumbag.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"A toast!" Dumbledore announces, raising his glass. "To the completion of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

You grin, raising your glass in tandem. "Cheers!" You clink it against Minerva's, then with Professor Sprout's on your other side.

All the staff have gathered in that small room right of the Great Hall for a little staff-only party, the fire blazing in its place and radiating a pleasant warmth around the room. The house elves have prepared a small spread of finger foods for the lot of you — and you've gone straight for the cupcakes, decorated humorously with little edible dragons. They're delicious — you make a mental note to voice your thanks to Bitsy the next time you see her.

Despite the happiness that's settled in you since Harry's successful task, when your eyes land on Karkaroff, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you, talking with Snape, unease gnaws at your gut.

You're sitting in a room with a Death Eater.

You've been in this situation countless times, of course, back when you were an Auror. But then, you knew what was going on. You knew what you were in for. Here, you don't. At parent-teacher meetings, you don't doubt you've been in the company of some Death Eaters, or former Death Eaters, rather. Some of your Slytherins' parents certainly seem to have a fondness for opaque, long-sleeved shirts...

You can't help but remember that night at the Quidditch World Cup, and your brain starts to picture one of those cruel Death Eaters pulling off his mask and revealing Karkaroff's sharp face.

You grip your champagne glass tightly, downing the contents and taking a deep breath. You should go mingle, the time for investigating Karkaroff can come tomorrow.

It's this little staff party that you finally get acquainted with Madame Maxime properly, trying your hand at your conversational-level French. She seems very impressed at this, delighted that you know at least a little bit of her own language — she says something about the 'arrogance of native English speakers', which you don't disagree with.

"Oh, and look at this pretty diamond on your finger!" Madame Maxime exclaims suddenly, catching sight of your engagement ring, sitting pretty above your wedding band on your left ring finger. She takes your hand in her much larger one so she can inspect it closer. "You are married?"

You look at the sparkling ring, glinting in the candlelight, smiling softly. "Yes, I am."

"How sweet," she remarks, dropping your hand gently. "I was married once."

You raise your eyebrows imploringly and she leans closer, waving her large hand theatrically as she says, "But he was a bastard."

She laughs fiendishly, and you just sort of watch, unsure whether you should laugh or not.

"You can laugh!" she assures when she sees your unsure expression. "Good riddance, is what I say. He thought he could keep the company of some girl while I was at working at Beauxbatons — so I said to him, 'fuck you and the whore you rode in on!'"

You nearly choke on your champagne, shocked at what you've heard come out of Madame Maxime's mouth. She grins proudly, showing rows of pearly white teeth. She seems to be finding your shock very amusing as she laughs again.

"His loss," you tell her, chuckling.

"Absolument." She shrugs nonchalantly, as though it was nothing to her but a stone in the bottom of her shoe. "Et toi? Where is your husband?"

You don't answer her for a moment, sucking on your teeth. "Well, I don't know, actually."

"How do you not know?"

"Oh, because he's just escaped from prison," you answer simply. You don't know what makes you tell her that. It would have been so easy to lie, but you don't. Perhaps it's the two too many glasses of champagne you've had, or perhaps it's the way Madame Maxime doesn't seem to care about anything, really, other than Fleur Delacour and the tournament.

Her mouth drops for a second, before she laughs. "Ah, well, c'est la vie. Marriage is never easy."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. It feels weirdly relieving to you that she couldn't care less about your personal life. You find a new respect for the woman in front of you. "Certainly not."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter twenty-one here!

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

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[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.) 

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze. 

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off  – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song. 

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view. 

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window. 

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck. 

“Hi.” 

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs. 

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books. 

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.” 

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie. 

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?” 

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded. 

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless. 

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

[twice-inamillion]

Threesome with Michaeng

Smut (virgin sex, deflowering, threesome, rough sex, anal)

Chaeyoung’s unexpected experience with a cock 

Chapter 119-121

Chapter 119:

After dinner, Tzuyu helps clean the table and places the plates in the sink. You begin to wash the dishes and notice Chaeyoung beside you. She says, "I know what you did in the kitchen." Nervously you ask, "What do you mean?" 

"Don't play dumb, I know what it smells like, and I know you came in your shorts," says Chaeyoung. 

You say nothing, providing what she said is true. "Don't worry, I like it too, so I don't blame you. Maybe we can do something about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," you respond.

"Okay, that's fine but never says never," said Chaeyoung. 

You finish up and leave as she finishes drying the plates. Nayeon then asks Tzuyu to bring some alcohol to relax and enjoy games in the living room. All the members gather around (including you) and play multiple games, drinking games. 

Jihyo takes part and says, "I pumped some milk for Jisoo to last until tomorrow so I could drink a bit." "Maybe I'll have some too, but just a little. I bought some formula for the babies just in case," said Mina. 

"I'm not going to drink, but I can still join," said Dahyun. 

You left an hour earlier to put the babies to sleep. Since you weren't drunk and only had taken a few sips, the girls asked you to put the babies to rest. Everyone played for a couple of hours until it was late.

Dahyun said she could watch the kids and take them to her room when they were done. You agree, change them into their PJs, and put them on the bed. Because of the lullaby, you end up falling asleep. 

You get woken up by Dahyun, who asks you to help Jihyo since she passed out drunk on the couch. You go to the living room and find Jihyo knocked out and the rest of the girls on the floor with some blankets. 

 "Jihyo, let me help you to your room." Jihyo responds, "Nooooooooo; I'm okay right here. Leave me alone here" in a drunken voice. 

You let her go and try to find Mina to see if she's somewhere inside the mountains for blankets. You look around, but she's not there. You check the water closet but nothing. You walk around the hallways and hear some noise. 

You walk until getting to Mina's room. "Weird, why is there mumbling," you say. You go for the knob, turn it right, and push it slightly open. When you see what is in front of your view, you are shocked to find Mina in a compromising position. 

Chapter 120:

You open the door and see Mina lying on the bed, completely naked, with her arms reaching down for something. 

You open the door more and see Chaeyoung at the end of the other side and going down on Mina. Both girls are completely naked and look like they are enjoying themselves. They don't notice you since they are too busy, and you open the door more. 

You hear Mina say, "We haven't done this in a long time, Chae," who sounded out of breath. Then you hear Chaeyoung agreeing with Mina, but it sounds muffled since she is busy eating. 

You, on the other side of the door, can't believe what you hear and see. 

"How and why are Mina and Chaeyoung in that situation? What do they mean they it has been a long time? Have they done this before? Was this their relationship before you got together with Mina?" Many things are going down your mind, and you can't seem to understand. 

You try to get a better view, and you see that Mina is holding Chaeyoung's head down, and you can hear Chaeyoung increase the sound of her sloppy eating. Louder and louder are the sounds that are coming out of Mina. At one point, you listen to her say your name, which makes Chaeyoung say, "Why are you saying his name? I'm the one with you right now," but Mina doesn't answer. A couple of seconds later, you hear Mina say, "I'm about to cum, don't stop," as she grabs the sheets tightly. 

You can see Mina squirt all over Chaeyoung's face and Mina is shaking from her lower body. After a minute, you hear Chaeyoung say, "Now my turn, Sharon." You hear Mina say seriously, "Okay, let me return the favor to you and give you a good time."

Mina/Sharon gets off the bed, and Chaeyoung moves towards the middle. "Get on all fours, Chae," said Mina/Sharon. You see Chaeyoung go on all fours and "slap, slap" You see Mina/Sharon slap Chaeyoung's ass. 

Chaeyoung screams, getting caught off guard. Mina/Sharon pushes Chaeyoung down so her face is closer to the bed, and her ass is sticking up in the air. You see a finger move alongside Chaeyoung's ass down to her thigh and going back up. She circles her finger around Chae's lower lips and stops. She moves her finger out and uses the index and thumb to rub against each other, showing a sticky substance that you assume came from Chae's lower lips. "Please, Mina." 

"You know not to call me by that name."

"Please, Sharon, give it to me." Sharon then slides two fingers into Chaeyoung's pussy and pushes it all the way in.

You could see and hear Chaeyoung gasp, but Sharon didn't give her time to adjust and rapidly inserted her fingers in and out of her. After a while, Mina goes for three fingers, making Chaeyoung arch her back at the pleasure she is getting from Sharon. 

"Please eat me; I can't wait," begs Chaeyoung.

Instead of giving her a response, Sharon pushes her down and has her face on the bed. She slaps Chaeyoung's ass and screams. 

"Don't tell me what to do," slapping her again. 

"Slap, slap. Slap, slap" 

Chaeyoung gets her ass slapped until it turns red with Sharon's handprint. The whole time Sharon was spanking her, Chaeyoung had the blanket in her mouth to prevent her cries from coming out. 

"Get off the bed and stand up straight with your back facing the bed," demands Sharon. She follows Sharon's command but has a hard time getting up. You see that her ass is red and has her stumbling when she tries to stand up straight. It is then that Chaeyoung sees peeking at them. You both meet each other's eyes, but she doesn't say anything. 

Instead, Sharon pushes her down, and Chaeyoung lands on the bed. She puts Chae's legs in a triangle and spreads her legs. You can see Chaeyoung's pussy. Sharon spreads Chae's lips, and you can see how pink it is; Sharon places her tongue inside and twists and turns its inside. Knowing that you are there and Sharon is concentrated on eating Chaeyoung, she says, "Do know that I caught Oppa's jizz in his shorts after seeing Nayeon feeling up on Sana and Momo's tits." 

"Ohh, really? Do you think he has something for them, or is he just horny?" asks Sharon. 

"I just think he's horny. I even confronted him and asked him to do something about it, but he gave me no response," Chaeyoung said as she looked directly at you while smiling. 

"Maybe we can have him join us if he doesn't bitch out," said Sharon. 

The disrespect of having Sharon call out a bitch makes you not recognize her and wonder who Mina is. 

But at the same time, this action is making you extremely hard. Your shorts are bulging, and you begin to get harder as you see Sharon keep on eating Chaeyoung. Since she is also nude, you can see Sharon's thick ass. 

You know that she has the best ass of all the Twice members. You can see her juicy pussy leaking and her butthole clenching. Suddenly you can see her spread her legs, making the view of her pussy and ass more accessible.

"I know you're behind that door, oppa; I can hear your breathing," said Sharon. 

Her actions caught you off guard, and you didn't know how to react. "Come out here and join us if you'd like. If you do not, close the door and go back to sleep," said Sharon seriously. 

It made you angry, and you opened the door wide open. You walk towards Sharon, pick her up from behind, and drop her on the bed. 

You raise your hand and give a big slap on Sharon's ass. When you hit it, you feel the vibration and see her cheeks jiggle.

"What are you doing op…." But you don't give Sharon a chance to talk and give her another two slaps. After three slaps, you realize what you have done and step back. 

Sharon turns her head, and you think she will be crying, but instead, you see her eyes full of ecstasy. She looks at you with her sexy glaze while biting her lower up. "Would you like to join us, oppa? asks Sharon. 

You want to, but your promise of having sex with other women didn't allow you to. Sharon sees this, says, "Yeah, I thought you wouldn't," and returns to eating Chaeyoung. 

You instead start to beat your meat as Sharon is eating Chaeyoung. After a few minutes of jerking off, Chaeyoung says, "I think he is about to cum." 

Chaeyoung and Sharon look into each other's eyes and nod. They both get off the bed and kneel in front of you. They stick out their faces and tongues and close their eyes. In your head, you know what to do. 

You give a couple of jerks and cum all over Sharon's and Chaeyoung's faces. "Ah ah ahhh," as you splash them with cum. Anywhere from their hair, eye, nose, and mouth, you came all over it. 

They both try to open their eyes and see your semi-limp cock still standing. Sharon grabs your cock and says, "You want to lick off the rest of his cum, Chaeyoung?" 

"Yeah, I do," as Chaeyoung approaches your cock and licks the cum off. She licks it all over, and suddenly you see Sharon going for the back of Chaeyoung's head. 

You think you know what Sharon might do, but you don't believe it until Sharon pushes Chaeyoung's mouth into your cock. She holds Chaeyoung's head down, and she begins to gag. Chaeyoung tries to fight it and frees herself. She coughs hard and says, "Unnie, why did you do that? I almost died with Oppa's cock down my throat." 

Sharon gets laughs, stands and gives you a peck on the cheek, and says, "I thought to be funny," and sticks her tongue out and winks with cum running down her face. 

After Sharon gives you a happy sex face, she whispers in your ear, saying, "I want you to continue." 

"I don't think we should. I don't want to mess with another member."

"I don't think you understood me; I wasn't asking you. I'm telling you to continue," as she has a hold of your balls, giving them a hard squeeze.

You say to yourself, "This isn't the Mina you know; Sharon is a dangerous person." 

"Hey, Chaeyoung, come over here and give him a handjob." 

"Okay, unnie, but I don't know how to do it," says Chaeyoung. Sharon walks up to Chaeyoung and "slap," gives her a slap across the face.

"Why are you so useless when it comes to cock” as she is pitching Chaeyoung's face with her hand.

Shocked at what happened, see Sharon walking towards you and right behind you. "Here, this is how you do it" as she grabs your cock. 

She begins to jerk you off until it's nice and hard. "Come on, Chaeyoung, and suck his cock” says Sharon in a commanding voice. Chaeyoung rushes since she doesn't want to get slapped again. She takes both her hands to grab your cock and gives it a couple of licks with the tip of your tongue. You could tell that she was inexperienced since she had a confusing look in her eyes.

You tell her, "I know you don't want to do this, but it will be over soon."

She then begins to suck you off slowly and with such carefulness. But you could tell that Sharon didn't have it. 

"Do it faster, Chaeyoung." 

Chaeyoung does what she is told and inserts more of your cock in her mouth. Sharon whispers in your ear, "You don't have to be gentle with her, don't get emotionally attached and be rough with her." 

You couldn't believe what Sharon was saying. Chaeyoung currently was only taking in 30-40 percent of your cock. Not giving a reply fast enough, she grabs the back of Chaeyoung's head and led it to the end of your cock.

Your whole length hits the back of Chaeyoung's throat, and it felt marvelous; her throat squeezed on your cock. Chaeyoung was surprised and panicking, but Sharon said, "Don't worry you'll get used to it," while holding Chaeyoung's head from moving. 

You could see that Chaeyoung wasn't used to it because her eyes were getting watery, and she began to place her hands against your thighs to push you away. Sharon took notice of this and kept her head as still as possible. 

Chaeyoung began to gag and push you again even harder, but Sharon wouldn't allow it. She then looked at you in your eyes, and you could see she was losing her breath. Her arms pushing you away were weakening, and you could see her eyes rolling back. 

Only then did Sharon pull her head back and allow Chaeyoung to catch her breath.

She coughs harshly as tears fall down her face, her makeup a mess since it was ruined. It didn't take long until Sharon told you to fuck her throat. 

You do not want to disappoint her, so you slide your cock back in, but Chaeyoung has difficulty keeping her head up. Sharon holds it still with her two hands while you fuck her throat. You thrust your cock in and out, keep it in the back of her throat just before she passes out repeat again. 

"Now cum in her mouth," commands Sharon. 

"Please, I'm tired. I can't anymore," begs Chaeyoung.

"I'll decide when you're done. So go and cum in her." 

You do as you are told and have your cock all the way back of her throat. At this point, Chaeyoung doesn't even fight it anymore and accepts her fate.

The warmth of her mouth makes you release a nice and smooth cum that flows down her throat. You pull your cock out, and she tries to get up but stumbles. She falls on the bed and looks like a rag doll that's been played with. 

You turn your head and see Sharon with a happy smile, and she tells you, "Good job, but it's not over."

You ask, "What do you mean? I did everything you told me." 

"That was just for starters. You still need to fuck her. Choose a hole to cum in," as she spreads Chaeyoung's lips, revealing her untouched hymen. 

In your head, you want to fuck her but know you don't want to get another girl pregnant. So cumming in her pussy is out of the question. "I'll fuck her ass then.

"Perfect, but cum inside." 

You see Chaeyoung lying on the bed in a comatose state. You walk towards where she is and move her body so she has her lower body facing you. As you move her, you see she's trying to tell you something, but her body doesn't react. 

You spread her legs wide open and see her shaven pussy and nice pinkish butthole. Chaeyoung is petite; has small breasts and ass, but her body proportions are still significant.

Sharon goes up to Chaeyoung and says, "Are you sure you don't want some of this" as she spreads Chaeyoung's pussy lips open once more. You are tempted, but you think about the possibility of her getting pregnant, and you can't risk it. 

"No, I'm okay." 

You jerk your cock, and Sharon tells you to smack Chaeyoung's ass. You smack it, and Chaeyoung grunts softly. 

"Slap her harder, as you mean it. I'm not going to tell you twice."

You raise your hand up high, pause, and slap her ass with force. She grunts harder, not being able to speak because of the cock that you gave her earlier. 

"Again," says Sharon. You give her about ten slaps, and every time, she grunts loudly. 

Tears were falling from her eyes, and her ass was red and had your hand imprinted. "Now she's ready," says Sharon. 

You align your cock to the entrance of her pucker hole. Because you were slapping her ass earlier, your cock got excited and produced some precum. You use it as lube and slowly and gently enter her butt. 

Chaeyoung's asshole is tight, and it would try to push you out as you triy to penetrate her. While holding her hips, you pushed in deeper you could feel your foreskin peeling back, giving you a cold but hot sensation all over your body. 

Chaeyoung, too, reacted and would say "aaaahhhh" while holding the bedsheets with all her might. Hearing her whine and the pain excited you, making you want to go in deeper. 

It feels like forever, but you are 3/4 inside her, and Sharon tells you to give a final push. You follow her order and slam your cock deep inside. Chaeyoung yells in both pain and pleasure as she is being stretched by your large cock. 

"You know this is the first time Chaeyoung had something in her ass; you took her anal virginity," said Sharon while caressing Chaeyoung's head, trying to comfort her through this experience. 

"Now move," commands Sharon. 

"But shouldn't I let her adjust to my cock?" 

"No, like I said before, you don't have to be nice and romantic with her. You don't have a relationship with her, so you can be as rough as you want. Use her for your pleasure; think of her as your cocksleeve."

Hearing that, make your blood pump faster as you shove more of cock in her butt and thrust.

A yell slips from Chaeyoung as she is biting on the bedsheet. You continue to thrust repeatedly until both of you are in sync, from yelling of pain to enjoyment and, finally ecstasy. 

She grips your cock with her insides and tries to choke it when you slam it inside. Her boobs shake, and precum is dripping onto the sheets once she begins to enjoy it. She even starts to call your name and ask you to cum. 

"Please, oppa, cum inside of me" as Chaeyoung turns to face you, you see her eyes of ecstasy. 

You finally give it a final thrust, and your cock pours all of its cum inside her ass. She loses all her energy, falls on the bed, and passes out. 

You pull out and see your cum running down her ass to her leg and eventually the bed. Sharon tells you you did a good job and takes a picture of Chaeyoung passed out on the bed filled with cum. 

She then invites you to join her in bed and moves Chaeyoung's body over like a used rag doll that's fulfilled its purpose.

 All three of your fall asleep next to each other. The following day you all are fresh and filled with energy, ready for breakfast.

Chaeyoung, on the other hand, is still passed out with your cum dried up and her handprint still on her ass.

 When asked, Mina says that Chaeyoung woke up unwell, but she would take her meal to her later on as she looks at you with an innocent face. 

[joelscruff]

Just curious but what are the WIPs you have brewing up? Can’t wait to see more from you <3

i have so many WIPs at the moment 😭 my current dilemma is having all these ideas but for some reason having no brain power to actually write any of them (except for the last one on this list 👀)

feelings on fire chapter 11 & beyond - i'm in a weird place with fof at the moment. i love these two so much and i have their whole story planned out (even further than you might think) and i do plan on finishing it, but right now it's just not flowing for me. it's affecting my other writing too because i just feel this immense pressure to get it done and because of that, i tend to guilt myself out of working on anything else. it's been a struggle lmao. but i'm trying. i go into the draft whenever i have a little bit of motivation.

darkness hums (next to freeze or to thaw installment) - joel's going on the raid so you're left behind with tommy 👀 i'll get this done eventually lmao i have to be in the right mood to work on this series

beautiful stranger - this is my joel x escort!reader fic that i still feel SO passionate about but haven't finished. featuring an insecure & out of practice joel + lots and lots of joel worship. again, it'll get done, just not sure when.

pick my petals off - THIS fic has been in developmental hell for a long time lmao. dbf!joel, very very pervy and coercive who wants to sleep with you before you go away for college. huge age gap obviously, very filthy. it's actually a series so i haven't had much time to really focus on it. will i ever write it? we'll see lmao

stray animal - can't say too much about this. but. VERY dark fic. kinda fucked up. involves a glory hole. stepdad!joel. we'll see what happens lol

untitled best friend's dad!joel fic - this is my current passion project, i'll be honest. been thinking about it for a long time and would really like to start writing it soon. it's a series though so i'd like to have most - if not all - of it written before i start posting it. it takes place in jackson and you're ellie's best friend. you have a crush on joel, he doesn't see you that way. but then something happens and you end up growing closer, very slowburn. i've also been referring to it as touch starved!reader fic lol. han @swiftispunk has heard alllllllllll about it

imperfect for you - a drabble i'm writing for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge!! it's joel + nose kiss 🥰 hope to have this up soon, it's kinda taken a backseat because i suddenly got inspiration to write something else.....↓

⭐is it that sweet? - this one's coming tonight most likely, so i won't say too much 👀 pervy!joel + the beach ⭐

so yeah. a lot. i mean, this doesn't even include ideas that are only living in my brain rn and not a draft, like a sequel to my boss!dave york fic and a threesome sequel to my frankie fic one of your girls, more of my boyfriend's dad!joel (believe it or not, i do intend to return to these two eventually. i miss them v much), etc. i feel like sometimes readers might think that just because an author hasn't posted for a while they maybe have lost interest in their fics/writing/fandom/etc, but it really couldn't be further from the truth lmao. i have so many ideas and i'm constantly writing things down, it's just actually turning them into fics that i've been struggling with lately. bear with me 💖 and thank you for asking!

[sissylittlefeather]

Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: The End

A/N: My heart, y'all. I can't believe this is over. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this last chapter for Elvis and Vivian. If there's enough demand, I'll write more of them happily ever after, but otherwise, here it is: the end. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. I love to hear from you!

Need to read the rest? Masterlist here.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m&f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~3k

"Are you?!"

"Yes."

******

Sonny's shoulders slump as he sinks into a chair. Vivian's heart breaks for him, but she just couldn't lie to him anymore. It's not fair to anyone involved for her to keep pretending like there's nothing between her and Elvis.

"I knew it. Jerry told me about the wedding and I just kept hoping it was him being, well, him. But no, this has been going on for a lot longer than just that time, hasn't it?"

"No, we've never really been anything-"

"But that's what you've wanted. You love him and you always have." He pinches the bridge of his nose and Vivian swallows deeply. He's right. "I can't fight him. I won't win. Not if you're in love with him."

Sonny looks up at her with his eyes glossy and wet. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

"Sonny, I-"

"No. It's okay, sugar. I love you too much to keep you miserable. If you want him, you should be with him." She sits on the floor in front of him and leans on his knee.

"I'm not miserable."

"No, but you would be eventually. Especially if his marriage is over. It's cruel for me to make you stay, knowing what I know now."

"Sonny... I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You can't help who you love. Can I ask one thing, though?"

"Anything." Vivian looks up at him sadly. Some part of her does care for him. Just not enough. Not more than she loves Elvis.

"I'm gonna go for a drive for a few hours. When I get back here, please be gone." She nods slowly.

"Okay. I can do that."

"Thank you." He whispers and then leans forward, kissing her forehead. Then, he stands up and walks towards the door. When he gets there he turns. "I don't want you to feel bad for me. I'll be alright. Just go be happy."

She nods again as he walks through the door. The tears come hot and fast for a while as she sits there in the rubble of her ruined marriage. After a while, she stops, though, and there's only one thing on her mind.

Elvis.

She jumps up and starts to pack.

******

Elvis is sitting in the dark in the TV room. All three TVs are going, but he has no idea what's on any of them. His mind is racing. How did he get here? He's alone, his own wife gone to another man as his heart longs for a married woman. What a mess.

His mind drifts back to the night he met Vivian. She was so beautiful reading the book of French poetry in the corner at his party. He should've whisked her away from Charlie that night. He should've broken up with Anita the second he met her and taken her in his arms to be his forever that afternoon when he found her crying at the cafe.

And all the movie years. How stupid was he to value his string of flings over her? How easy it would've been to leave them all in the dust and marry her in 1962.

And the conversation they started should've finished with them together. Why did he abandon her for Ann? Yes, he loved Ann, but what was she compared to his future with Viv?

And WHY, WHY did he choose Priscilla?! He looks at the corner of the couch where Viv had laid that night they made love for the first time. It's like a movie with the scene of her on his porch, arms full of liquor bottles, a soft smile on her lips. Then it cuts to her gently shaving his face, an ultimate gesture of love and service. And the kiss, his mouth on her body, carrying her upstairs and pulling off clothing. The flashbacks wash over him and he lets himself weep. His tongue pushing into her as she moans, her mouth wrapped around him, him pumping into her overcome with passion and love and a need to be hers forever. The gentle and affectionate touches when they finished and held each other like they'd do it every day until they died.

"Oh God, Vivian." He holds his head in his hands as the tears stream down his face. He should've married her. His heart aches thinking of her coming to see him when he was so hurt and needed her so badly, only to be turned away. How could he have spent all those years angry? How could he let her fall into Sonny's arms?

And now she's gone forever. She'll have a baby soon and then he will have truly lost her. He'll only ever-

There's a knock at the door. Whoever it is can wait. Elvis is too lost in his grief to answer the door right now.

He wraps his arms around himself and lets his shoulders shake with sobs.

Another knock, this time a little more urgent. He listens carefully and realizes it's raining. Briefly, he feels for the person who is soaking wet on his porch, but not enough to get up and answer the door.

He's always taking care of everyone else. In this moment, he needs to just be and feel and nurse his broken heart.

More knocking, almost frantic.

Fine. He gets up off the couch and goes to the door.

******

Vivian sits on the front steps in the rain, crying. She's knocked and knocked, but either he's not here or he doesn't want to see her. She has nowhere else to go and even if she did, this is the only place she wants to be. Why won't he answer?

She gets up to walk back to her car.

******

"Viv?" He says it softly, not believing what he sees in front of him. Then, he realizes she's walking away and runs out to her in the driveway. "Vivian!"

She stops dead and turns to face him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sonny left."

"He did? Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you." His heart skips.

"You... what?"

"I'm in love with you, Elvis. I always have been. I love you with every fiber of my being. It's like you're a part of me that I can't dig out. You're in me. You are me. I love you. God, I love you." She stands there, chest heaving, trying not to be a cliched crying mess in the rain. Elvis's heart has stopped with her words. His hands shake and he wants to pinch himself to make sure he isn't dreaming.

"Am I- am I too late?" She asks, almost panicked. Finally, he finds his voice.

"Never."

He takes two steps and has her in his arms, his mouth pressed to hers in a desperate kiss. The years of yearning pour out of them into the way their tongues mix in an ardent dance of need. He grabs the back of her thighs and she jumps to wrap her legs around him. Then, he turns and carries her up the steps into the house, slamming the door behind them with his foot.

She moans into his kiss as they make their way up the staircase to the bedroom, her still wrapped around him. In the room, he sets her down gently and begins peeling off her wet clothes, one layer at a time, dropping his lips to every new exposed inch of skin. He makes a trail of hot kisses along her body, finally dragging down her pants and underwear until she's fully naked in front of him. But when he goes to dive face first into her center, she stops him.

"No. I want to feel your skin." She unbuttons his shirt and pushes it off of his shoulders, going to the buttons on his pants next. He kicks off his shoes while she undoes the zipper and pulls, exposing him to her fully. They stand for a second, just taking each other in with nothing in between them, finally.

He caresses the side of her face and steps closer to her so that their bodies touch softly. She looks up at him in anticipation as he runs his thumb over her cheek.

"I have loved you from the moment I saw you. I should've said it then and every day since. It's always been you, Viv." He leans in and kisses her gently again, his hand moving down her body tenderly. When he gets to her lower back, he pulls her in close to press against him and kisses down her neck. She whimpers at the feel of his length pushing into her hip, reaching down to stroke him with her hand. He grunts at the sensation and slowly walks her backwards to the edge of the bed. She sits down, her hand still pumping him, but he stops her and gets on his knees.

"You're the love of my life, Vivian. I want to give you the world." He leans forward and kisses her thigh, pushing her legs open further to get to her center. "Let me give you everything I have, baby."

With that, he lowers his mouth to her and presses his tongue into her slit, dragging it up to the hardened bud, licking over and around it vigorously. She inhales sharply and throws her head back.

"Oh, God, Elvis." She runs her hand in his hair. He groans, but doesn't stop working his mouth on her. He moves his tongue in circles and then in a hard line over the top of her clit, keeping a steady rhythm. Her hips buck forward into his face and he slides a finger into her, tickling the spot that makes her moan out loud.

"Fuck!" Her back arches as her orgasm builds quickly. She feels herself on the edge, ready to spill over into an ocean of pleasure.

"Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go for me." He goes back to licking her with a fervor he's never expressed before. He's never been so invested in a woman's pleasure but he wants to give Vivian more than she's ever experienced. And he does. In that moment the dam breaks and she cries out as the waves of ecstasy crest and break inside her over and over again.

"Yes! Fuck! Yessssss!" She moans with her teeth gritted, her body quaking with the aftershock of the most unbelievable orgasm.

When she finally comes down, she sits up and grabs him, pulling him into a deep kiss, her tongue diving into his mouth feverishly.

"I'm so... in love... with you..." She whispers in between kisses, her hands running down his chest. She stands him up and he looks down at her, cupping her chin in his hand.

"No, baby. I'm in love with you." She smiles and leans forward, holding his cock in one hand, pulling his foreskin back and running her tongue around the tip. He leans back, his lips parted slightly and his eyes closed. "God, that feels good."

She tries not to smile as she pulls him fully into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. She buries her nose in the hair at the base of him, swallowing around him. Then, she begins to move up and down as he thrusts slowly. She puts her hands on his hips and works him gently, moaning. He grunts and takes a handful of her hair.

"Viv, baby, you have to stop. I'm not finished making love to you."

She pulls back off of him and looks up, crawling backwards onto the bed. He climbs on top of her, kissing her neck and chest up to her mouth.

"I am yours, Vivian. Body and soul." He lines his cock up with her dripping entrance and teases her clit for a second. "I want to love you like this forever."

"Please, Elvis. Never stop." He nods and pushes into her.

"I won't, baby." He whispers as he slides in as deep as he'll go, grunting when he feels her tightness around him. "You were made for me."

She whimpers as he fills her, pulling back and pushing into her again. Neither of them will ever get enough of the way it feels to be connected like this. They fit together like a lock and key and the pleasure hits them both at the same time.

"Yes, Elvis..." Her back arches as he continues his sensual rhythm of sliding out and filling her, his hips rolling into her over and over and over. Their sweat begins to mix as their bodies meet in burning kisses, breast to chest, stomach to stomach, hip to hip, and thigh to thigh. His hand runs up and down her, squeezing and pinching softly where it pleases them both until it settles on her hip, holding her in place as his thrusting picks up. He's still moving slowly, pounding her deeply, slamming her with his cock both passionately and lovingly.

"Oh, God, Viv, I love the way you feel." He sets his head on her shoulder, knowing his climax is coming fast. "I don't want this to be over."

She takes his face in her hands and kisses the tip of his nose.

"This will never be over. I'm yours until the end. Let go, baby. I'm not going anywhere." He whimpers softly and peppers her face with kisses as he goes back to pumping into her. His pace increases and her breasts bounce as he moves inside her harder and harder. He feels his orgasm building in his cock and he knows he's ready to explode. He slams into her two more times and then cries out as he shudders.

"Fuck, yes, Viv!" He feels his release wash over him as he cums hard inside her, emptying himself as the tsunami-force ecstasy crashes through him. He's frozen inside her, cock throbbing until he's completely spent. She whines through her own orgasm as he collapses on top of her, careful not to crush her with his weight. He slides out of her gently and lays next to her, pulling her into the crook of his arm where she fits perfectly. She reaches up and pushes his sweaty hair back off of his forehead and then runs her fingertips down the side of his face. He grabs her fingers and kisses them, looking down at her. She smiles up at him and whispers. "Je t'aimes toujours avec tout mon coeur."

"You know I don't speak French, baby." He chuckles.

"It means 'I love you always with all of my heart.' It's something I was saving to say to the man that set me on fire. And it's you. I burn for you, Elvis. I always have and I always will." He smiles, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I will make you mine forever as soon as I can. You are the one who my soul loves. Viv, tell me this is us, from now on."

"Always and forever, Elvis."

"Always and forever."

******

A lot happens for Elvis and Vivian through 1972 and 1973. Vivian moves into Graceland and they christen every room in the house. Then, Elvis films Elvis on Tour in April and Vivian is there. He plays at Madison Square Garden in June and Vivian is there. He goes on tour again and still, Viv is there. Then, he does the Aloha show in Hawaii and she is there for that too. Both of their divorces are finalized in 1973 and they're there for each other. By Thanksgiving, Elvis has a 10-carat ring on her finger and by Christmas they're married.

He records an album at Stax that won't be released until 1975, but there's a song on it that makes him think of Vivian so much he almost cries. He saves it for the right moment, though.

So when she comes to him on New Year's Eve with a note from the doctor confirming her pregnancy, he knows exactly what to do. He pulls her into a warm embrace, kissing the top of her head. Slowly they begin to sway and he sings:

The first time I saw you I knew I was hooked on somebody other than me

And the first time I held you, your soft lips and blue eyes

Were as far as my eyes could see

Yes, here in my arms I knew I had found the reason that I'm livin' for

And I felt the feeling, such a wonderful feeling

That I'd never felt before

Baby, you're love's been a long time comin'

Baby your love's got a hold on me

Baby your love's sure got me hummin'

Baby your love's been a long time comin'

******

Fin

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @atleastpleasetelephone @burnthheparaphilia @cinnamoroll-things

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 11

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, SMUT

Chapter Length: 6K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

You stare at the door for a long time after it closes. 

When the shock starts to wear off, the regret seeps in. There's so much more you should have asked him; so much you should have told him. Instead of almost silently accepting the end of your friendship, why hadn't you tried to make him slow down and talk to you?

Your eyes drift downward as you feel the truth settle into the pit of your stomach: You'd known as well as he had, saying anything more would only have led to further pain.

As you turn away, your blank gaze slides from the door and falls to the small table nearby. On top of the table, you keep a little bowl with trinkets and a few scrap pieces for your speeder bike. Beside these items sits a heap of cloth, which you don't recognize. You draw nearer, noticing that it's wrapped neatly around a cylindrical object. Picking it up and pulling back the cloth, you're taken aback to see the hilt of a lightsaber. Your lightsaber. 

You slide it out of the fabric, feeling the weight of it in your hand for a moment, then place it delicately down on the tabletop just to stare at it. 

You'd been facing Dooku when you'd lost it, completely on the opposite side of the outpost from where you'd been rescued. He would have been the only one there to retrieve it. And yet, he'd told you at that time he'd believed you were dead. 

Your chest suddenly aches. 

You tell yourself not to think about him, fleeing for his own life, half-dead himself, but stopping to pick up the only remnant he'd thought he would have of your existence.

Facing away from the table, you shut your eyes and do the same thing you've been doing for the past two days - immersing yourself in the force with a fervent determination you've never known before.

Your eyes flutter open again. You look out the window. The snow whirls. 

Despite your better judgment - despite the fact that you know he'll feel it - you reach into the force and try to sense him. His speeder should be halfway back to base by now. You might not sense him at all. But you want to try.

To your immense surprise, you feel him instantly, his presence not halfway back to base as expected. In fact, he's not far away at all. 

Pacing back to the door as quickly as your legs can carry you, you pull the handle and wince as the spray of icy wind crashes against your face again. His figure emerges slowly from the white abyss, one of his arms upheld to break the lashes of snow whipping around him. He's only a few feet away, but it's still hard to make out the shape of him through the dense flakes of ice.

"I don't suppose," he shouts over the rising gusts, "I could trouble you for a ride back to the main base?"

You wrap one arm around yourself, shivering and leaning out of the doorway to wave him in. "Come inside!"

He finishes his trek, entering your house once again,  and you swiftly close the door behind him. After catching his breath, he lowers his hood again and sighs. 

"I'm sorry to impose. I didn't realize the storm would be so..." He gestures to the window to indicate the ferocity of the wind beating away at your home. "The speeder bike I rented can hardly lift off the ground."

You give a shake of your head. "You aren't imposing. I don't think anyone expected it to be this bad. But I can't give you a ride back to base. I loaned my ship to a friend off world." 

When he raises a brow, you shrug. "They needed a ship, and I didn't expect to be leaving anytime soon. My speeder is all I have at the moment."

Brushing a hand through the front of his snow-dusted hair, he sends a worried look off to the side. You stand, a bit stiffly, not quite knowing what to do or say. You try another solution. "I suppose you'll need to call someone at base for a pick up."

He doesn't answer for a few beats. Then he shrugs off his coat again, placing it gently on the bench. He seems to hesitate when looking downward, and you realize he must have noticed that you'd found your lightsaber. 

He flicks his gaze back up to you. "I would prefer not to. This trip wasn't exactly... above board."

You'd started to back toward the kettle you'd had boiling before his arrival, but that makes you stop in your tracks. "Oh?"

You pose it half as a question, half as a statement, not wanting to force an explanation. He clears his throat, though, correctly reading your tone as curious.

"I was meant to deliver a mission report on Coruscant, then return to the Gaulus sector for further duties. But I left my duties in the hands of Commander Cody for the time being, and I... took a short leave. For my health."

"I... see," you answer, turning away and walking to the stovetop, fiddling with the knobs while you process his words. His second lie of omission to the council. You consider this, not saying anything in return. 

He hovers at your home's entrance, and you both listen as the long-range holocomm goes off again, detailing the inclement weather. The storm is worsening. 

The kettle is warm again by the time the report ends, and when you turn back to him with a reheated cup of tea, he gratefully accepts it, taking a seat in your kitchen when you motion for him to do so.

"Isn't there a friend you could call?" you ask, sitting down across from him at the small table. "Someone you trust not to share your... change in plans?"

He strokes a hand down his chin just once, shaking his head. "Anakin is on assignment, several days away."

It's been a long time since you'd heard mention of Mace Windu's former padawan. The young war hero had very nearly become Obi Wan's padawan when they'd first met, but the council had seen the bond between the two following Qui Gon's untimely death and had thought it better not to encourage their closeness, placing him with Master Windu instead. An unlikely friendship had still unfolded, despite their efforts, and you'd often joked that the Skywalker boy had always been Obi Wan's second padawan.

You want to ask more about Anakin, but that sort of lighthearted talk doesn't seem relevant at the moment. Instead, you sip your tea and think. 

You try to keep your eyes locked onto the drink in your hand, instead of roaming across the lines in his face. His features are drawn down, stern and contemplative, and you want to paint over every inch of him, getting a second chance at your last encounter. 

Clearing your throat, you try to force nonchalance into your voice. "Well, these storms don't usually last long. A few hours, or a day at most. You're welcome to stay until-"

You quiet down on the word "until", both of you listening as the holocomm goes off again, this time with an even more severe warning. The storm is now expected to last nearly a full rotation. Neither of you makes a comment right away, though the shift in energy is palpable. Ilum's rotations are sixty-six hours. 

When the broadcast ends, Obi Wan's eyes flicker up to yours with a far-off look. They're a little dulled, his expression restrained and distant. It's the look he often holds when giving orders. The look that duty brushes over him.

"Perhaps I will make a call, after all."

Standing up, you start to make your way over to the holocomm to help him dial out, but you freeze in place when the lights cut out, and the low electronic hum throughout your home suddenly drops into silence. You look around the darkened room, then back at him, catching only the faintest outline of his expression in the soft light coming through the window.

"Don't worry," you assure him, once the initial jolt of susprise has worn off. "I have a generator."

"Oh," he answers, the shadow of his face peering around your dim surroundings. A few seconds later, he adds, "good."

A few seconds after that, he gives you a mildly concerned look that has you crossing the room to check the fuse panel. 

"Which definitely should have started up by now," you say, opening the cover. The normally illuminated buttons are completely dark. 

"Damn," you whisper to yourself. Then you turn back to Obi Wan, who's also now standing. 

"I'm sure it's just a loose connection somewhere," you tell him, reaching for your own jacket and pulling it over your robes. "I'll have it fixed in no time. Don't worry."

He gives you an uncertain look. It's the same one he always employs when you're failing to sell him a lie. But he doesn't argue as you finish dressing and head back to the door. 

After he's followed you into the small maintenance shack behind your home despite your insistence for him to stay inside, Obi Wan finally gives his opinion. 

"That does not look good."

You glance up at him from your kneeling position on the ground, flashlight fixed on the gnarled remnants of the main rotor. "No, it's-"

You're interrupted by the sound of skittering feet, and you jerk the light to follow the movement, catching the barest glimpse of grey flesh along with a flash of multiple eyes. Yelping at the sight, you tip back onto your feet to stand up. 

Before you can so much as bend your knees, a pulse of energy rips you backward, and the creature on the opposite side of the shed crashes into the wall with a dry slapping sound. Obi Wan lunges in front of you, lightsaber brandished, and you belatedly realize he's force-pushed you to the ground. 

"Obi Wan, it's a lisk!" you tell him, getting up to stand beside him. "It's just a lisk."

You've managed to pin the reptilian-looking thing under the light, finally, and you both watch as it drops from the wall and scrambles out of the maintenance shack, through a hole in the corner. The animals aren't dangerous, or at least, certainly not a threat to a Jedi. You find them creepy, but they aren't really more than a nuisance. 

Obi Wan would have - should have sensed this. But he hadn't responded to the danger. His response had been to your yelp of surprise. As you look at him, a loose lock of hair threatening to dip into his eyes, his teeth jutted in what you'd very nearly call a snarl, snd his body held in a distinct Ataru pose, the meaning of what he'd said earlier - about not working together - is suddenly ringing out to you with crystalline clarity.

And he knows it. He silences the hum of his weapon, deactivating it and clipping it back to his belt with one smooth, hurried movement. 

"I didn't realize it was- " He starts and stops, tenses his shoulders, then drops them. "I'm not familiar."

Neither of you addresses the fact that he'd thrown you to the ground. Neither of you says anything about his taking an offensive attack position that he hasn't used since before you'd met - since before the death of his master. 

You gather yourself, trying to move past the discomfort of the moment by looking back down at the torn mess of metal on the ground. "They're common, here, but not dangerous," you tell him. "Not unless you're a generator."

Obi Wan's gaze follows yours. "Evidently."

"They like the warmth, I think. But they've never caused this much damage." You back away from it, sighing. "I don't suppose you have a long-range commlink you've been keeping secret?"

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

A particularly loud gust of wind wails through the small crack between the open doors of the shed, widening the opening with drifting snow. 

A full rotation. Sixty-six hours. 

"We'd better get back inside," you tell him, turning off your flashlight. "We'll need to keep all the warmth we have left."

--

First Hour

"And how much is left, exactly?"

You swiftly close the small door of the wood burning stove, having tossed in another log. "Enough to get through about two standard days, comfortably. Or four... uncomfortably."

"I take it we're rationing, then."

You stand up, brushing the splintered wood from your leggings. "To be safe, yes. I can't heat the whole house, either. We'll have to close off the two other rooms."

He nods, firelight flickering across his face. He seems to hesitate, and you've turned back to the stew hanging in an old-fashioned durasteel kettle above the fire before he speaks again. 

"I suppose it doesn't serve much purpose for me to mention it now, but, was it wise to keep such a small stock of emergency supplies?"

You stir the food, looking over at the paltry woodpile. "I don't, normally," you answer, mouth closing in an 'M' shape that nearly became the word 'Master'. Old habits die incredibly hard, it seems. Especially when he takes that tone with you, thinly veiling his judgment. 

"There was a storm recently before this one, and an outpost on the southern quadrant needed urgent resupply. I split my stockpile in half, and I meant to replace it. A few days later, I was called away to an emergency mission," you look at him pointedly. "Never got around to it."

"Yes, well," he absently runs the back of his knuckles down the side of his beard. "Your ship is loaned to one friend, your supplies to another... it's a shame I made my visit after you've run out of favors to give."

You smirk a little, dishing some of the stew into a bowl and handing it to him. "I don't know about that. Here."

He takes it with a curious look and follows you when you close the lid on the kettle, leaving the main room and heading back to the seating area in the kitchen. Sitting down across from him again, you invite him to eat with a gesture, while pouring two drinks. He's taking his first bite when you open your cupboard and take out a couple of small cakes, placing one down next to him and taking a bite of the other. 

He raises his brows in surprise. "Is that..." He bites into it, politely finishing his chewing before starting again. "Where in blazes did you find yalo cakes?"

You give a genuine smile. "Made them myself."

"Very impressive," he says, bringing warmth to your face with the compliment. "They're delicious. Where did you get the yalo root?"

"Picked it up on a supply run on-" You stop yourself, then look up at him. There's no point in not finishing the sentence. He knows where to get yalo root. It's his favorite. That's why, on some level, you'd wanted it on hand. It brought you back to those days in the temple, with him. "... on Coruscant."

There's a long silence and it's obvious he's deliberating on whether to say anything. But you both know what he would say, and you both know there's no point in posing any questions. Eventually, you say something anyway. 

"I would have visited, it's just-"

"Of course," he interrupts. "There's no need to explain. I would have likely been away on duty anyway."

You drop your gaze down to the table. You wish you could just... tell him. Seeing him would have only made things worse for you, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. You want so badly to just tell him, so that he can understand. 

So you do.

"I wanted to see you more than anything," you say quietly, and his spoon clinks against the side of the bowl as he sets it down. You can't bear to raise your eyes yet. "But I thought if I did, it would make thinking about you... harder." 

You drag your gaze up to him, forcing yourself to look. "You know what's funny, though? I don't think it made any difference."

His blue eyes are set, wide, unflinching. His mouth is tightly closed, and his expression is indiscernible. 

You let the silence drag on, finally breaking it again when he doesn't say anything. "I'm... going to go shower. Before the water in the tank freezes."

He watches you go, not saying a word. 

 

Third Hour

You've both spent some time in the refresher, your hair still a bit damp as you begin to light a few candles. You don't have many, so you've rationed them as well, placing them together in the middle of the room, on a table. 

Obi Wan is sitting in a chair, holding a book, one leg crossed over the other. His hair is dark, the ends sparkling with water in the dim light when he shifts in his seat. You're both wrapped in tunics and full robes, thick socks bound high above your ankles, and yet, you can still feel the chill in the air. 

He'd asked your permission to borrow the book - a high fantasy novel set on the seas of a fictitious planet - and to your amusement, he seems rather engrossed. You sit down in the makeshift sleep roll you'd created out of blankets on the floor, looking up at him. "I didn't expect you to enjoy that one so much."

"Hm?" He glances over the page. "Oh. No, I- it's quite, uh, interesting, but..."

You raise your brows, imagining he's feeling caught out for enjoying something so childish, but he surprises you. 

"I'm having trouble seeing the pages, in this light."

"Oh," you say, understanding now why he'd been staring so intently. "Well, it's much better near the fire. Come sit down here."

He gives an uncertain look through the grated door on the wood stove, and then down to the floor, next to you. "It's alright. I can see well enough, thank you."

You bite your lip, then decide to let it be, picking up a book of your own.

Ninth Hour

"Before I had studied the ways of the Force, the mountains were mountains and the waters were waters. When my knowledge of the universe became more intimate, I saw that mountains were not mountains and waters not waters. But now I have come to know the truth and can be at peace. I see that mountains are mountains again and waters once again are waters."

You blink at the page of the copied Jedi text before you, eyes growing heavy. Obi Wan is lying above you, now, spread long and lean over one of your couches. Actually, it's more of a chaise lounge. He'd dragged it over, closer to the light of the fire, and you'd sat down in front of it.

You turn to look at him, finally looking a bit more relaxed, one arm behind his head as his eyes slide down the page. You're close enough to hold your book up for him to see. 

"Have you read this one?" you ask, indicating the first paragraph of the longer text. 

He turns his head a little, angling himself to see the page. "I think it's safe to say I've read all of them, young one. I was assigned to the archives more than most padawans." He finishes reading, then flicks his gaze to you. "And perhaps I should have assigned you there more often. That passage as well known as the 'empty cup'."

You're sorely tempted to roll your eyes. "I'm aware. Just trying to be polite. I just really like that one."

He's quiet for a beat. "It's a good passage."

"Yes, it is," you say absently, turning the page. "One of my favorites."

You go on reading for a while, then speak again without looking up from the page. "Perhaps you'd care to share one of your favorites?"

You turn back to look at him and he places the book he'd been reading down on his chest. "Alright," he says, reaching out as you hand him your book. "Which one is this?"

"Poetics IV, Farseeker," you tell him, handing it up. "...but I thought you might have known that, Master."

He lifts his brows just a bit at your smirk, then turns his attention back to to book, paging through it, skimming for a few minutes while you sink into the comfort of the blankets surrounding you. 

"Ah, here. I've always thought this one interesting," he says, and you feel him shifting on the chaise behind you to get into a better position. 

"A single bundle of thread is made up of innumerable strands..." he begins, voice a bit smoother and deeper than it had been before. "but, if they are joined in a rope and laid down on a plank, they can easily be cut with one stroke of a sharp blade..."

The rich lull of his voice pushes you deeper into the blankets, and soon your eyes fall shut. His softly spoken words interspersed with the crackling of the fire is almost melodic. 

"...as many as the threads may be, they can not resist the singular blade. So we come to the truth: the threads of selfishness, of mistrust, of passion, are cut by the diamond of wisdom..."

Fourteenth Hour

You stir, pressing your nose into the warmth of his robes. He makes a humming sound deep in his chest, breathing softly into your hair. The warmth of it tickles your neck, and makes you open your eyes.

You flinch, breath stuck in your throat as you pull back. 

You sit up, shivering in the darkness. The fire is almost out. You stand up to stoke the embers and feed a few logs back into the stove. The sound of the door closing makes Obi Wan roll over to his other side, his breathing soft and steady. 

You look down at the floor, realizing you'd had to cross over several feet to get into his bedding. 

You must have been very cold.

You drag your blankets a little further away, then crawl back into your makeshift bed. 

 

Thirty-Second Hour

It's pitch black outside, now. The day cycle has turned fully to night, and after spending the morning eating, talking, and cleaning out your kitchen, and the evening mediating, there's nothing left to do but read until you're tired enough for bed. Obi Wan is lying down on his back, in front of the fire. You light another candle, then join him. 

The smell of him mixed with the smoky scent of the fire is... making it difficult to concentrate on your book. You're starting the same paragraph for the fourth time when he clears his throat softly. 

"Perhaps tonight, we should take shifts, to watch the fire. It nearly went out last night."

You freeze. "That's a good idea."

He says nothing more, and you lie still while your heart races. If he'd known the fire was low, he'd been awake. How much had he been awake for? 

"You... noticed that."

"I did," he says slowly. "By the time I noticed it, though, you'd already gotten up to fix it."

You're certain he can hear the blood thrumming in your ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake. I didn't mean to... to..." You start over, totally unsure what to say, but knowing you have to say something. "I was asleep when I must have rolled over, and...gotten into your bed."

He'd been watching you struggle to speak with a curious look, but finally, understanding seems to dawn on him. "Oh. I... had thought it was intentional."

The thoughts in your head run over a cliff. 

"It was cold," he offers. 

You have no idea what to say, blinking in embarrassment. "It wasn't intentional."

You'd found it difficult to concentrate on your book before, but now it's nearly impossible. You turn the pages a little longer, finally giving up and deciding to meditate instead. You close your eyes.

When you open them, you feel warm, and you feel safe, and once again, you realize you've curled into his arms. 

But you don't pull away this time. This time, you just... stay. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, shifting your fingers in his robes. Feeling the heat between your bodies. 

It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. None of this matters, because in two days he'll be gone from your life.  

What's the difference whether you dream of holding him like this, or if you simply let it happen? He'll plague your thoughts either way. 

You feel the rise and fall of his chest change its rhythm. He swallows, and you realize he's waking up. You lie still, then tilt your head up to look at him. 

"Cold again?" he asks, and it hangs between you. An open invitation for you to move away and pretend it's all been a misunderstanding. But you don't. 

"No."

The howling wind outside is the only sound, distant and ominous, as you stay motionless against his chest. Then he softly brings a hand to your face, gliding the back of his thumb down your jawline. 

You could cry, the way his skin meets yours with such tenderness, without hesitation. You can feel the tension in his force signature, bleeding through although he's suppressing it. 

"Go to sleep," he tells you. "We will get through this. It will be over soon."

"I know," you say immediately, his hand leaving your skin and making you give in to boldness. "And when it's over?"

"We've already discussed it," he says tightly, and you can feel the muscles of his arm behind you tense. He's not quite lying it down, not quite touching you. "We agreed, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. After this, we won't see each other. So," you whisper into the thick fabric covering his undershirt. "I want to be honest. I don't want to lie to you anymore."

"Is this wise?" he asks, his words gentle but his gaze intense. 

"There is always wisdom in truth," you answer, knowing he'll recognize the words he's told you many times.

"I want you. It's terrible how much I want you. But I think it could be easier if I didn't have to pretend that I don't."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, but the shifting emotions in his eyes speak for him. "Then you should not pretend. Not for me."

You desperately want him to reach down and kiss you, but he stays still, as you knew he would. You let out a silent sigh, resting your ear to his chest. His signature is mostly hidden from you, but he can't disguise the rapid beating of his heart. "I think it's been more for me." 

"There is no need to hide your feelings," he murmurs. "But there is every need not to act on them."

You know he's right, but hearing him say it just makes it so much worse. And in some ways, it stokes the heat inside you even higher. Your leg is already nudging against him, and some depraved part of you is dying to lift your knee and hook it over him, to spread yourself open, to touch him in any way he'll allow it. 

But the larger part of you, the part that knows right from wrong, tells your body to roll onto your back, and you do. 

His arm lifts around you to let you separate, and you both stare upward, listening to the fire and the storm.

After so much time passes that you're not sure if he's asleep, you whisper one last thought that's been tormenting you for a very, very long time. "It's just a shame. For all we've been through, even the pleasure of breaking our vows... we didn't even get that." 

He stirs beside you, head turning slightly, but he doesn't answer. 

"If we had to break our vows, I'm just sorry we didn't even get to remember it."

Carefully, you turn to read his expression. His eyes are downcast. "I seem to remember much more than you do."

"I know," you whisper, a thrill that you know you shouldn't feel running through you. You're on edge, like you're trying not to frighten off a wild animal, with every word you shouldn't be saying. 

"If you wish," he says, voice forcedly calm, "I could show you."

The words hang in the air; low, heavy, dangerous. You part your lips with some effort. 

"Show me."

He rolls to his side, facing you, and wordlessly places a fingertip to your temple. It isn't necessary to form a bond through the force, but it helps.

Before he closes his eyes, and before you close yours, you feel it passing between you - an unspoken acknowledgement. What you're doing is precisely on the edge of sin and salvation, just teetering on the illicit line; a line which has been crossed and uncrossed so many times between you that you've lost count. 

You close your eyes anyway. 

The image is pristine. So real between sight and sound that you can hardly distinguish it from reality.

Your skin is on his skin. Sweaty, brazen, unashamed. You're lying naked on your back, and he's beneath you, pants unfastened, inside of you.

You squeeze your eyelids tight, overwhelmed and instantly aching between your legs.

He drags his cock slowly from you, one hand splayed across your stomach, holding you steady on top of him. Your body shudders involuntarily, imagining the pressure of his head moving from deep inside to pressing shallowly within you. 

"Tempted me for too long," the Obi Wan in the vision growls, voice surrounding both your ears as if he's speaking from everywhere at once. 

Then he pushes back in, hot and slick. "So tell me," he says, pulling out and sinking into you over and over, "Now. Tell me how you wanted this." 

"I wanted this," your voice comes - bare, powerless. Like you're clinging to him, adrift and keeping yourself afloat by saying anything he asks. 

He gives a long, tortured groan. "No, not just this." He drives into you, pulls out, coated and sliding so perfectly between your legs. "Say it."

"Oh, fuck," you moan, trembling against him, sounding too distracted to answer. 

"Young one," he warns, quickening the pace just slightly as he wraps one hand around your neck, tilting your chin upward as he spreads his fingers out, feeling your pulse skyrocket as he tightens. "Do as you're told."

"I wanted this, Obi Wan. Wanted you inside me. Wanted you to fuck me," you answer him, words spilling out of you without pause. "Wanted this forever."

The hand on your stomach has moved to your hip, now, gripping you to stop you from moving. He's writhing beneath you, and even from this perspective, from the catch in his breath, from the wet sounds in the room, you can tell he's gone from fucking you to pounding into you. 

"You've done this to me," he rasps, the muscles of his arm flexing between your breasts as he squeezes your neck tighter. "Do you understand that? You will answer for it."

You nod against him and he sinks his teeth into your neck, burying his moan in your skin. 

He's about to fucking cum, you realize.

Why had he started the vision here, of all places? Was he trying to make you lose your mind?

His thrusts are getting deeper, harder, staying buried longer, and, there- you hear it in the open-mouthed choke of his voice. You see it in the way he drives up into you and stays there. He's-

Obi Wan breaks the bond, bright and vivid imagery bursting into nothingness, fizzling right before you.

You blink, eyes falling open to meet his own. His lips are parted, his face as flushed as yours must be. You take in a breath, and it occurs to you how empty your lungs had been.

He straightens his shoulders, but he doesn't move away. His eyes dip down to your lips, then swiftly back up to your eyes. "I must tell you that what I said..." he pauses for far too long. "It wasn't true, of course."

"I know," your response is automatic. You're unsure precisely to what he's referring, but you want to reassure him.

"Shall I stop?" he asks the question softly, but his voice is too rough for him to feign innocence, now. "Or would you like to keep going?"

There's some shame in your breathless answer, and no doubt he hears it. No doubt he feels it, too. But it's outweighed by scraping, seething, agonizing want that's been buried for so long. 

"More," you tell him, never more certain of anything. "Don't stop."

There's conflict in his gaze, but the same animal you've been fighting wins out within him, too, and he closes his eyes once more. 

--

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch

Masterlist // Next Chapter >>

[still-a-morosexual-help]

okay so lately I have seen a lot of people claim they hate mammon bc he steals from mc, and like there's nothing wrong with disliking a character lol but I don't recall mammon ever stealing from mc?? like the only thing I can think of is that one time in season 1 I think where he was going through their stuff and said he was looking for something to sell (I think?? it's been a while) and beel straight up calling him a liar lmao l'm just wondered if I missed something? or if this is just newer players who maybe misunderstood that one scene? and I figured if anyone would know it would be you lmao

I got so fucking pissed about this (not at you anon <3) cos this is the third time I got an ask like this, that I scrolled all the way down my 'Obey Me Mammon' tag to June/July 2020 and then slowly scrolled my way up pulling all the receipts I could.....I saw this immediately after you sent it and I just finished now...... turns out it takes 5 straight hours to go through my Mammon tag😶

I have answered this exact same ask twice before and I can only assume it's new people? Like honestly you can't play the game for a long time and still think this (they prove this false within the game in LESSON FOUR)

Not only does Mammon NOT steal from MC, he also:

a.) Gets legitimate/legal jobs whenever he wants to buy MC something (which is pretty frequently)

b.) Shares the money with them when he comes into a large sum of money

But anyway here are the links to the posts talking about all this:

(everything is directly taken from canon or based off canon)

A.) No he doesn't steal from MC

• Full Summary of the Lesson 4 locked chapter where he goes through MC's stuff and a compare and contrast of what we know about Mammon from future lessons, events, devilgrams

• First post talking about this, goes more into detail about him not stealing from them

• Second shorter post about how he doesn't steal from them

• They're literally Partners in Crime

• He straight up refuses the Midas touch (multiple times I believe) after realising it means he won't be able to touch MC anymore

• HEADCANON that maybe he steals/borrows their clothes, with their knowledge, to wear

• In the small introductory manga page they say the thing he likes as much as money is MC

• In S3 he admits to loving MC more than he loves money

B.) He goes out of his way to get MC Presents (which we works actual jobs to earn money for)

• Mammon at the Office Devilgram, where he gets an actual office job so he can buy MC a watch he saw them looking at

• In the Movie Date Devilgram he rents out an entire theatre for the two of them because it was the anniversary of the day they first met

• In the You Always Ride Shotgun Devilgram he rents out a pool for the two of them

• He's always giving MC presents

• Usually he buys matching things for them

• He buys them shoes in their favourite colour

• Mammon's love language

• He wants to share his winnings from a lottery with MC

• He finds a secret second map in the pirate au event and tells only MC so they can share the treasure

C.) It's not just MC, he puts the others before Money too

• In the Presents From Mammon Devilgram he buys presents for everyone

• In The Guardian Demon Devilgram he saves a 9yr old orphaned homeless human girl from a mugger, fosters her and plans to pay for all her needs until she's an adult/can provide for herself - which is why he's always in debt to the three witches who look after her for him, there's also extortion going on from them towards him

• He'd rather lose the entire fortune he won than make Luke upset

• List of times he's put others before money

• He straight up tells Luke he doesn't mind missing out on a reward as long as it means Luke is alright

• Socks for Beel

• He gets a stone for his birthday which can give him whatever he wishes for, he wishes for fortune to come to whoever has the stone and then gives the stone to a student who tried to hurt him

D.) How Mammon works as a character

• Solmare makes you form certain expectations about him and then starts breaking them within the next few lessons and it's amazing to witness

• Friendship, Actions & Reality Vs Calling MC 'Servant'

• Mammon, MC and their Friendship

• Mammon being smart and why he comes off as an idiot

• His thoughts about himself vs MC

• He's actively changing and growing as a character and he knows it

• How Mammon actually views himself

• Why there's a difference in his level of affection in public vs privately

• Jerk with a heart of gold trope but better

• Mammon and how much he cares about consent

• How outsiders see Mammon vs how people from the city see Mammon vs how his close friends and family see him

• Chasing some creep away from MC

• How his relationship with MC changes and grows throughout the season

E.) Other reasons to love him

• Examples of how much he loves MC

• How supportive he & MC are of each other

• Some of his funniest moments

• He's objectively terrifying

• Mammon being a good brother

• He's extremely ride or die for MC

• He waits for MC when they've got to stay late at RAD for other work

• Despite being an ancient being all his best memories consist of the time he's spent with MC

• He created a whole line of toys based around missing MC

• Everything he says about loving MC in his 2022 birthday event

• List of things he's good at

• The amount he loves MC

And this is just a few of my posts about mammon, his character and what there's to love about him

And look it's MORE than okay for people to dislike a character but at least dislike them for something that actually happened?

[httpsjeonglvr]

Red-handed

Aged up miles morales x fem!reader

Chapter summary: You and Miles finally get a break from taking of your children and your jobs but unexpectedly you both get caught in the act by his friends.

Chapter warnings: You and miles get caught in the act,there are children mentioned,let me know if there is anything else

This was taken from my other account guys just so you guys know 👍🏾

It was a regular day. You woke up to the sun shining and an empty bed. You went to your kid's room and didn't see your son in the crib or your daughter.

You went downstairs to see them watching TV on Miles’ lap who was on his phone. You snatch your youngest off his lap making him smile.

"Hey baby you had a good morning with daddy?" You ask him kissing his nose. You gave birth to Chin-Sun, but everyone called her Sunny. A few years later you had Manny. They were both happy babies and were adored by everyone. You lean down kissing Miles. "Hey uh, babe, the guys are about to come to get Sunny and manny is that okay?" He asks

"Sure are they coming right now?" You ask. He nods as you motion for your daughter to follow you upstairs with Sunny following you to get them ready to spend a day with their uncles. It didn't take you long except for when you tried to do Sunny’s hair where she got fussy and started calling for Miles who came to her rescue. "Sunny!" Hobie called walking into the house and smiling at the two kids, Sunny ran down the stairs as you carried Manny downstairs smoothing his hair. Her face lights up reaching for her favorite uncle. "I want them back home before 10, you got that," Miles says

"She's 6 and he's 5 months Rin they're not 16!" Peter speaks up making everyone laugh. "I'm serious!" "Okay! They'll be home before 10" Miguel says as he grabs Manny’s baby bag and leaves. With the kids being gone you figured you'd get some cleaning done. You started with the main rooms like the bathrooms, Kitchen, and bedrooms.

Sunny had toys everywhere, with Miles spoiling her, he bought every toy she picked up in the store and bought it for her. But you couldn't talk much since you spoiled your baby boy with every toy and gave him food every time he begged for it.

You had checked and cleaned every room except for the living room where Miles was and he didn't show any signs of leaving. He had his feet up on the table. You were trying to vacuum but couldn't do it with him in the way. "Baby stop cleaning so much and come chill with me" He says as he grabs your arm. "I will once I finish," You tell him.

"No I want you to stop right now," he says with his voice full of demand. "Who are you talking to?" You ask as you turn the vacuum off. "My wife so sit the hell down,” He says. You ignore him and turn the vacuum back on and continue to clean. This makes him mad and he groans. As you get to where he is you sigh as you attempt to vacuum under the couch.

"Can you move?" You ask. "I don't know can my wife come to sit down with me?" He asks not taking his eyes off the tv. "Miles move, "You say rolling your eyes. "Make me," He says smirking

You roll your eyes turning the vacuum off. You march over to him and take his legs off the table. when you do he pulls you into his lap wrapping his arms around you. "Let me go," you say. "Make me," He says as he kisses your neck. "Miles let me go so I can finish cleaning-" He had found your sweet spot and now you were ice melting in his hands. Soon enough both of your clothes were on the floor leaving a mess you'd worry about later.

"I can't believe you forgot to get their food!" "You were the one that grabbed the bag" "You should have checked it before we pulled off!". Miles looks up seeing his friends in the kitchen. He rolls his eyes forgetting he gave them a key to his home for emergencies.

"Ya know what I won't take any more disrespect- what are you two doing?" Hobie asks as everyone directs their attention to the couch. "I was about to get laid until you guys barged in,” Miles says as you slap his chest. "Well we forgot their snacks,” Miguel says. "And you couldn't just buy some at the store?" You ask. "Why would we do that if she has food here?" Hobie asks while rolling his eyes adjusting the restless baby who was reaching for his snack and babbling.

"Anyway, We are gonna let you get back down to business," Miguel says pushing them out the door. "Please" Miles mumbles as they leave closing and locking the door "Now where were we?" He asks with that stupid smirk on his face. "I believe that we were at make me," You say pulling him back over your body.

[missmonsters2]

—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been taken from right under Wednesday's nose. Finding you is a given, but it's really a question of who is saving whom. Wednesday shouldn't be surprised that she's complete entranced by the sight of a fallen faerie.

Warnings: canon level violence. long villain monologues. Enid & gang doing their best.

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Note: just two killer gfs 🫶 also i can't believe the next chapter is the last one 😳

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Part Eight

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Ambedo: Noun. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

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Wednesday touches item after item in your studio. She holds whatever Thing passes her and tosses it when nothing happens. Wednesday knows she can't force a vision, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her hands run along the ground, trees, and furniture. 

Something—anything in this forsaken room should give her a clue as to what happened to you or where she could find you. 

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even. 

Wednesday doesn't need to turn to know who it is. She grabs one of your books, gripping it with force, willing a vision to happen. When it doesn't, Wednesday tosses it aside. "What is it, Enid?" She asks, her voice flat but frustration laced around her tone. 

"I've got everyone spread out and looking around," Enid updates. "I texted Ajax, and he's got some of his friends out searching too."

Wednesday merely nods tersely. 

"I'm going with Yoko to search, but I just wanted to tell you something before I left," Enid bit her lip. 

Wednesday turns, her eyes boring into Enid's with a dark intensity that her roommate is both used to and still finds unsettling. "Go on."

"I—" Enid sighs lightly. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else in case I was wrong, but I'm pretty sure now. I can smell someone else in here. The scent is stale like yours and Fae's, but it's a little stronger, more recent."

"Who else was in here, Enid?" Wednesday demands immediately. While certain people knew you had a studio, no one except Wednesday knew where it was. 

"Um," Enid murmurs, her brows furrowing. "That guy—the one who's always around Fae. Yoko said his father is an alumnus here. Harry?"

"Henry," Wednesday seethes, her eyes flashing and jaw clenched.

"Yes, him!" Enid exclaims. "Yoko and I are going to see if we can find him, but if we can't..." The words drag, but Wednesday already knows the truth of it. 

If they couldn't find Henry, then they'd found their culprit. 

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Enid: can't find him.

Enid: roommate says he hasn't seen him at all today and said he's been barely in his room. He usually apparently only returns around 1 to 2am lately.

Enid: I'm gonna search around in my wolf form with yoko. She'll text u with my phone with any updates.

Enid: also the black fuzzy blanket you had earlier in our room is gone. Did you take it?

Wednesday doesn't reply and clicks her phone to turn off the screen before putting it back into her pocket. 

1 to 2AM was when the two of you finished your nightly meet-up.

Wednesday definitely didn't move the blanket. Her eyes look back to the blanket in question. She recalls you telling her that Henry was a psychic who could create things. And based on what she's deduced so far, he could materialize his mindscapes into reality, but it seems that anything taken out of his mindscape couldn't last for prolonged hours if he wasn't focusing on it. 

Wednesday has touched everything inside this studio, and nothing has conjured a vision. It leads her to believe that you weren't taken in your studio. She exits and begins to look around. 

The first thing she noticed now that she was not blinded with rage and panic when she first searched for you was one of the tree trunks partially rotten. It was hard to tell with it being so dark, but Wednesday could spot the strange shape of the rot. She walks over to it and finds a single black feather resting on the ground directly underneath. 

Wednesday bends down to grab the quill of the feather, and the live wire shredding at her skin comes forth.

Wednesday sees you walking out of your studio. The day has rewound, and the sun is only starting to set. 

You look happy, with a serene smile and a single feather in your hand. But only after a few steps out do you tilt your head and refuse to take a step further.

Wednesday can hear it from your perspective. The way the wind oddly ruffles the leaves. There's a certain discomfort in her spine. 

"Who's out there?" Wednesday watches you call out and place the hand on the tree trunk. "You can't hide from me in the forest and whatever trap you've set, I can sense it."

There's a moment of tense silence, but you refuse to budge. 

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree. 

Henry steps out, and you relax slightly but keep her hand on the trunk.

"Henry," you look confused. "Why are you following me?"

"Well, this is annoying," Henry sighs. "You didn't notice the mindscape of your studio, but now you won't step into the new one I made? I wonder if it's because Wednesday's energy is so intertwined with the studio one I made. You lower your guard down so much when she's around," he hums. 

You look wary. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow me," Henry smiles, but his eyes are hidden, and you can't determine his full expression. "Quietly."

"What are you talking about?" You frown at him. 

"Your wings," Henry says in a cavalier tone. "I need your wings. So, I need you to come with me to Crackstone's crypt so I can perform the ritual there. I still have some things to prep, but if you go to meet with Wednesday for your date, I'll miss my chance and the sap wont be potent anymore."

As you step back, you narrow your eyes at him, full-on in defensive mode. You're opening your mouth to say something, but Henry pulls out a small blowgun and shoots a needle that lands right into your neck. 

You stagger, hand at your neck to pull out the needle, and you instantly know it's made out of draeconium. You slump to your knees first before falling onto your front completely, groaning. 

Henry approaches with a syringe filled with a cobalt teal liquid. He steals you away, and all that's left is your feather and the rot you placed in the trunk.

Wednesday returns to reality, her hand on the trunk and the grip of your feather in her other hand. She pulls out her phone, typing a quick message to Enid before she takes off.

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt. 

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The room was dimly lit by candles. Where Crackstone's crypt used to be now stood a giant rectangle stone table. There were inscriptions carved into the table, and Wednesday knew immediately that it was a ritual for your wings.

Wednesday's eyes lay upon your limp form lying in the middle of the table. There was a chained collar around your neck bolted to the table. It was only long enough to likely let you sit up, but no further than that. She can see your body rising and falling with each breath, and there's a sense of relief. She's about to walk to you and wake you up when someone steps out of the shadows.

"I didn't think you'd actually find us."

That lanky, stuttering boy. Except he wasn't stuttering now. Wednesday's uncontrollable rage simmers inside her, but she tempers it. She needs to be rational if she wants to save you. 

Henry's long fringe normally covers his eyes, but tonight, they're pushed out of his face, combed stylishly over his head. It was no wonder that he covered his eyes, Wednesday thought. They would draw too much attention with their pale silvery glassy look. His eyes lacked pupils, but Wednesday was sure they were why he had such powers. 

"Of course, I'd find you," Wednesday sneers at him. "Only a moron would come back to Crackstone's crypt. How unoriginal."

Henry smiles at her, and it's utterly disgusting. "I suppose after your glory stories of last year, I expected you would and that you'd come here stupidly alone."

"I don't need a group to make you wish you were never born," Wednesday's face was stoic. "What exactly can you do? Your little tricks won't work on me now that I know what you can create. It's not real."

Wednesday takes a step closer, but Henry pulls out a knife. The blade was a pale pearl white with ridges, and the handle was made from wood. There was no doubt it was made from draeconium.

"Move any closer, and I'll plunge this right into her," Henry threatens. "I only need her alive, she doesn't need to be unharmed."

There's a moment that Wednesday hesitates, thinking about her chances. She has a knife in her own boot that she could use to cut his throat. But Wednesday eventually decides against it as she doesn't know where he might stab you and if it'll accidentally be fatal. He looks like an idiot.

Wednesday's eyes trail to you. Even though you're unconscious, your wings are slowly appearing from your back, unfurling slowly, and you haven't moved one bit. She eyes the chain in detest and wills you to wake up to no avail.

"I know her wings are injured, but I'm pretty cautious," Henry sighs but doesn't relax his form as he turns to point the knife at her. "I can't risk her potentially flying."

"What did you do to her?" Wednesday demands, her stance tense as she keeps a distance from the boy. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She won't," Henry shakes her head. "I know she's told you about how draeconium sap can cut her wings out, but they can do so, so much more."

"Makes me wonder why she didn't tell you. Maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think." Henry smirks at her. "Draeconium petals can be crushed into a powder and mixed into a liquid that will put faeries to deep sleep. It's poisonous and makes their body numb and unable to control their movements."

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

"How did you find out where we were?" Henry narrows his eyes at her. "I hear you're a witch, but I have yet to see you do anything amazing. If anything, you're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"You're always hanging around her, hovering like a goddamn vulture," Henry huffs. 

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Wednesday raises her brow. 

Henry rolls his eyes. "I thought for sure her fae abilities would catch me following her around. At first, I couldn't get too close without her constantly turning around and nearly catching me. Before you started to get closer to her, I was trying to figure out for weeks where she was going every single day and night."

Henry smiles lightly at her. "The night you followed her after the siren's party, she heard both you and I were following her. But for some reason, she dismissed it and kept going. Your presence has always masked mine perfectly."

Then he smiles haughtily at her, his eyes filled with malice. "Thank you, Wednesday. Because of you, I was able to get closer to Fae without her noticing. And since then, the two of you haven't even noticed you've been in and out of my mindscapes for months."

Wednesday thinks back to the night she first followed you to your studio. You had turned around, and Wednesday thought it was her, but it was probably Henry you'd sensed. But her presence distracted you, and you kept going. 

She thinks back to Parents' Day and how she couldn't find you anywhere. She had gone to her room first to change before looking. Yet, you told her you'd been in her room waiting for half an hour.

Wednesday recalls the time you came to meet her, saying you just came from seeing Henry, but he couldn't conjure anything. But he had, and you just couldn't tell you were already experiencing it.

Wednesday thinks back to the day before the Poe Cup Race and how the three of you had been standing in the hallway. She had heard footsteps, but when she turned around, it was just Henry sitting at one of the arches. Those footsteps were probably from the outside of the mindscape. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth, keeping her mouth shut as she looks around the room for anything she can use. Her phone is in her pocket, and she can tell Enid has likely been sending her messages incessantly by the sporadic vibrations. Wednesday hopes that Enid will call her so she can try to pick it up, keeping it open in her pocket before she starts spouting things that will tell Enid where she is. 

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"This is weird," Enid mutters. "This is the crypt, isn't it?"

"It should be," Xavier looks around. "Something feels off, though."

Yoko is walking around, her glasses are off, and she looks up to see the moon. "This isn't right. Something feels wrong," Yoko says as she turns to the group. "This moonlight feels synthetic. It's making my eyes hurt."

Bianca looks around. "Henry was a psychic, right? What classes was he taking?"

"Um," Enid thinks of some of the classes they shared, but it was generic. Then she snaps her fingers. "Oh! He was taking psychitech! You know, the class where you can use your psychic powers to build things."

"What if this is one of them?" Bianca suggests as she looks back to the group. "What if this is what he could build? Fake rooms?"

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of this? It looks way too real," Xavier sighs, rubbings his face. 

"Let me try calling Wednesday," Enid pulls out her phone and dials. It picks up after the 4th ring, and Enid almost shouts into the phone when voices are already coming through.

"—couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

"Hold on," Enid says quietly, putting the phone on speakerphone. "I think Wednesday picked up, but she's with Henry right now."

The group listens to him speak, gauging the story with tense interest. 

"That's weird," Enid whispers. "It's quiet, but I can kind of hear an echo now."

"Hey Enid," Eugene whispers as he looks at her. "You put flowers in the Crypt when we came back to school, didn't you?"

Enid screws her brows in thought but nods when she remembers. "I did in the corner...to remember Rowan."

"What flower did you put?"

"I put a potted tristeria in there because they don't require any care. I didn't want to come back to look after it."

Eugene smiles. "I think I know how we can find our way in." He summons a single bee. 

"As long as there's pollen in there, this bee will find it." 

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"So?" Wednesday raises her brow at Henry. "Aren't you going to reveal your grand master plan? What your wish will be?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because cliche villains like you can't help it," Wednesday drawls. "It's why you're all so embarrassing. You think you're so clever and the need to show your cleverness to someone overrides any smart brain cell in your head to be efficient."

Henry looks at her contemptuously, but he looks up through the open sunroof and realizes the full moon isn't in position yet, and he has time. 

"I'm an only child," Henry begins to talk.

"Here we go," Wednesday mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"My father was an alumnus here. We come from a long history of psychics and old money, so coming to this school is really the only choice. My father eventually graduated and married another socialite. You know, the type that's well-bred and genetically compatible to produce another strong psychic to pass on the legacy," Henry continues to point the knife at Wednesday but waves his other hand whimsically to emphasize his point.

"Except," Henry sighs, like the next part will be tragic. "The well-bred socialite turned out to be barren in the womb. Oh, whatever will they do? How will they pass down this enriched legacy? They need another psychic to pass it down to!"

Henry smiles like a bright idea comes to his head. It looks unhinged, which Wednesday would normally find charming, but Henry's face disgusts her to her stomach.

"Of course, the only answer is to find a surrogate. Secretly, of course. It's too shameful to let anyone know. And that means our lovely little couple finds an outcast struggling to make ends meet three states over. She's barely got any psychic abilities, but she's better than nothing, right?"

Wednesday's listening, but her eyes are taking in his stance. He doesn't stand like he has extensive combat abilities like she does, and she's confident in her odds there. 

"The couple promised riches. They promised a better house and food that wasn't stale and enough money to let her live her days out comfortably. But our soft-spoken, poor outcast says she can't agree. She loves children, and if she were to have a child, she'd want to be able to see her visit that child. The couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

Wednesday stares at the room around her without moving her eyes. This was real, wasn't it? There were limitations to Henry's powers. How many rooms could be kept active, how long he could keep them engaged, and the objects inside the mindscape can't stay outside for prolonged periods.

Henry must've brought you here because he couldn't mimic the magic residue that surrounded this crypt. 

That meant the surrounding area of his crypt would be made up of mindscapes so no one could find them.

Wednesday wonders if Enid and the rest of the group were currently lost in one of his mindscapes, and they were closer than she thought.

"Everything seems fine at first," Henry's voice interrupts her thoughts. "The pregnancy goes without a hitch, but on the day of her birth, there were complications, and she passed away soon after. Still, she gives birth to a lovely, healthy son. All should be well, right?" The way Henry says it is filled with sarcasm.

"But what should be filled with fulfilling days is just scorn. The well-bred socialite can't love a son who isn't really hers. His eyes are a constant reminder that he's someone else's child. She doesn't want to hold him, touch him, or even look at him if she doesn't have to. The father has great expectations, but when his son can't achieve them, he's distant. They don't tell him the origins of his birth, so the child is left to believe his parents just can't love a disappointment like him."

Great, Wednesday thinks, another idiot with mommy issues. "That was entirely uninteresting and cliche," Wednesday stifles a yawn, annoying Henry.

"Yes, but I'm not quite done."

"Hurry on then. I'm considering dying might be better than listening to the rest of this."

Henry sneers at her but continues on. "The child thinks he's just unloveable. That it's just the way he is, and that's why his parents cannot love him. Until one day, he's rummaging through his father's study in hopes that there's something there that could help him strengthen his psychic abilities."

"Let me guess," Wednesday drones. "You found a letter from either the doctor or the coroner about the day your birth mother had you but your father had her killed right after."

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs. 

"Yes," Henry looks miffed that his plot twist was ruined. "The doctor injected nightshade into her IV, and because she was poor, her death was never looked into after the report the doctor gave."

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow. "What are you going to wish for? Your birth mother to come back so someone might love you as pathetic as you are?"

"I'm going to rewind time," Henry reveals, scowling at her. "I'm going to go back in time and kill Tyler before he can awaken as a hyde."

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "That mongrel is already behind bars and rotting. Even if you rewind back time, he's not going to awaken his hyde for you. He has severe mommy issues just like you do, and you don't seem like the motherly type."

"Not to kill my parents," Henry snaps. "For me, for my life at Nevermore. Everything was perfect before Tyler came along."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What the hell do you—"

"If Tyler didn't come along, Miss Thornhill would still be here and she'd be focusing on me!" Henry shouts, gripping his knife tightly until veins become visible on his arms. 

Wednesday's eyes scrunch up in disgust, her head bobbing back with disbelief. "You're doing all this for Thornhill?" Her tone hides none of the contempt she feels. "Are you an absolute imbecile? Thornhill was using Tyler because she hates outcasts. She hates you too, you stupid—"

"That's not true!" Henry thunderously shouts at her. "Tyler and I were different. She cared about us but she chose Tyler because he was stronger! I'm different now! I can help her achieve her goals and we will be happy after."

"No," Wednesday curls her lip at Henry. "You were her puppet until she decided you were useless and Tyler could help her kill everyone. You do realize that was her goal, right? You'd only be kept alive until she decides she doesn't need you in her normie world."

"Shut up!" Henry's red in the face as he roars at her, stomping toward her. 

Wednesday hardens her stance, bending her knees slightly to keep her grounded. She blocks Henry's attempt to stab her before using her other elbow to dig into his sternum. It makes Henry stagger back, coughing, and grip his chest, but he hangs onto the knife. He recovers quickly before he moves back towards her, swinging the knife back and forth.

Wednesday dodges, but Henry extends his arm, and it nicks her cheek. The cut stings, and Henry grunts as he tackles her to the ground. He meant to stab her in the neck, but Wednesday moved her arm just in time and stabbed the outside of her bicep. Wednesday grunts in pain when he rips it out. 

His height difference gives him the advantage, and they're rolling on the ground. The force of the tackle made the back of Wednesday's head slam into the ground. She can feel a warm liquid dripping down the back of her head, but she doesn't let it stop her. 

Wednesday knees him in his groin, which makes him drop the knife, roll onto his back, and hold the tender area with a groan. Wednesday quickly kicks the knife away and gets on top of him, punching him in the face before she wraps her fingers around his neck and squeezes.

Henry is struggling and wheezing, his hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to rip them away, but Wednesday's grip is firm. She can feel his Adam's apple giving, and she squeezes tighter. 

Henry flails around, winding the back of his hand, and punches Wednesday in her temple. He wore a ring that dug into Wednesday's skin and ripped it open. 

The force and cut of it make Wednesday dizzy, and she's forced to let go as she staggers to the side. Henry is gasping for air but immediately scrambles for the knife. He has a cut on his brow from where Wednesday punched him, and his neck was wrung red. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Henry shouts, enraged as he grabs the knife. 

Wednesday is still lying on the floor, holding herself up on her elbow as she is holding her temple while her own blood coats her hand. 

The noise is deafening, and it makes you breathe deeply. 

You begin to stir, your fingers twitching. The sound of your leg moving grates against the stone table.

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction. 

"How did you..." Henry starts to say.

"Don't...touch her..." your voice is raspy and lethargic as you slowly sit up.

"Don't move," Henry threatens, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's shirt and pressing the knife against her throat. "Don't move, or I'll slice her neck open!"

Wednesday is staring at you. It's hard to see your eyes with your head tilted down and your palm pressed against your eye.

"How the hell did you wake up?' Henry seethes. "The draeconium should've kept you unconscious even when I started to cut your wings. You shouldn't have fought against it. This would've made all of it less painful."

The chain rattles as you move your palm away and look up at them. Wednesday could feel Henry tense, and she could understand why. 

Your eyes have transformed, and they were completely pitch black—even your sclera. You looked more like a demon than a faerie, and Wednesday felt her heart skip. She's entranced, eyes unable to look away. 

"I'm a high lord's daughter," your voice rumbles quietly, your eyes narrowing on them. "I'm a night faerie. You think I wouldn't be trained to have resistance against draeconium poison?"

Henry's jaw clenches, and Wednesday can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure your eyes drop to look at the knife against her neck. 

"Let her go," you demand. "Let us both go, and the worst that will happen to you is an expulsion."

Your voice isn't threatening in any way. It's almost calm, and Wednesday almost scoffs that you'd think this psychopath would listen to you. 

"Expulsion?" Henry laughs. "The second Weems learns what I did, there's no way I won't be going to jail. My parents might just execute me out of shame."

"You could probably use your last meal to request to see your beloved Thornhill first, if she even agrees to see you," Wednesday mutters. The knife presses further into her neck threateningly. A thin slit of blood drips down from Wednesday's neck.

"There's only one way I'll let her go," Henry looks at you warily, trying to bargain. "Your wings for her life. I'll tie Wednesday up as leverage but the second I have your wings, I'll let her go."

"Only a moron would believe that," Wednesday drones, her face impassive. 

"She can't wait that long," you argue back, ignoring Wednesday. "She's losing blood in her arm."

"It's not fatal," Henry shakes his head. "I'll let you seal the wound up, but if I don't have your wings before the moon moves from the highest point in the sky, I will kill her."

"Don't bargain with me," you warn him, but your delicate tone doesn't scare Henry at all. 

Henry glares at you. He's losing his patience as he presses the knife further into Wednesday's neck, and she can feel it cut into her skin more. "There's nothing you can do but accept my bargain. You're lucky I'm even offering to let Wednesday go. I could kill her right now and still take your wings—"

Your eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, flash dangerously at him.

"Shit!" Henry suddenly curses, tenses up, and Wednesday sees his eyes cloud over. She knows that he can no longer see the way he's frantically looking around. She moves her head back, so the knife is no longer pressed against her neck. 

You suddenly spread your wings to their full span. Your wounds rip open, and blood rapidly rushes down, soaking your fingers and staining the stone table. They fill in the carved inscriptions but pour over onto the ground. 

You flap your wings, rising. The chain initially resists, but with another flap, it breaks like a measly string. 

You're hovering in the air, held up by your wings. Blood coats your shirt and cheek when your wings flap, splattering blood everywhere. 

It's terrifying how much blood you're losing, but Wednesday can't help the hitch of breath in the back of her throat. 

You look like a fallen angel. Like you fought tooth and nail before heaven cast you out.

You force your wings to their full wingspan and flap them with a reckoning force. The wind you create is so powerful that it forces Henry to fly back. He collides with a pillar, his body arches from the impact, and he gasps painfully. He drops the knife and falls onto his knees, coughing. 

You swoop down towards him, standing in front of him as you grab the collar of his shirt with both your hands, pressing him against the pillar to hold him up as he can't even stand. Henry is sure you've broken his ribs. 

"Lucky?" You snarled before seething at him. "Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday looks down at her hand, covered in blood and soaked feathers that fell when you flew over her. The air is hard to breathe after your wings disrupt the air, almost like she's choking. 

This was what her vision meant. 

How utterly useless to figure it out now. 

All Wednesday can smell is blood, all she can hear is your breathing and the sound of your wings. Your voice—raspy and rumbling—is all she can hear. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of you in the air with your bloodied wings is imprinted—burned into the back of her eyes. 

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

"Say, Henry," you say, and Wednesday feels a chill down her spine in the calm and light way you say it. "What do you think would happen to you if I dropped you from 1500ft? Do you think you'd die, or do you think you'd survive and just become paralyzed?"

"Please—" Henry whimpers, begging. He screws his eyes shut despite the fact that even if they're open, he can't see anything but pitch black. It's just instinct at this point.

"Let's see who's really lucky," you tell him, pulling him from the pillar, your wings fluttering. "You or me."

You're about to take off when you feel your shirt being tugged at. 

You look over to find Wednesday standing, parts of her temple crusted with dry blood while fresh blood pouring down a line. 

Wednesday is looking at you sternly, her brows furrowed deeply while hiding something else she is feeling—desperation. 

"Don't fly," she demands you, her voice serious. "If you fly, you'll lose too much blood and you won't make it."

You merely stare at her, and Wednesday wonders if you can even hear her.

"I'm okay," Wednesday tells you quietly instead. "We both are." She turns her head to look at Henry, who looks like he has passed out from the pain in his ribs. "He's done. He can't do anything anymore."

The words seem to reach you as you loosen your grip, dropping Henry, and he falls to the floor on his side. 

You turn to Wednesday, blood dripping drop after drop from the end of your wings. 

"You've ruined your wings again," Wednesday scowls at you, and your lip twitches. "You fool, they will never heal at this rate."

"They will," your voice was raspy. "I just need intensive care for the rest of the year."

Wednesday keeps her scowl at you, and you smile weakly at her.

"Thank you for coming to find me," you tell her, your voice lulls Wednesday.

"Of course, you were late," Wednesday relaxes her face as she looks over your wings. As much as she hated to admit it, this was out of her hands, and they needed the nurse.

You smile sadly, and it looks strange with someone whose eyes are completely black. "I missed our date."

"Stop with the look," Wednesday orders. "It's unnecessary. I can always plan it again."

You look happy, then. But you also look extremely tired. The black from your eyes fades and after a couple long blinks, they become normal again. 

"Thank you for saving me," Wednesday eventually says, her features looking soft as they gaze at you. "Even if you were stupid enough to ruin your wings."

You chuckle, but it's weak. You lift your hand, almost hesitating to touch Wednesday's face since your hands are coated in blood. But Wednesday leans into it, letting it smear her cheek.

You're so warm, and it's comforting to Wednesday. It was a sign you were alive. 

Making sure you paid for making her feel wretched over you would have to wait because all Wednesday can do right now is be thankful you're alive.

You lean towards her face, your lips hovering over hers. 

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands. "Ever. Especially without me."

You smile, and it brushes against Wednesday's lip. 

"Are you threatening me with a good time again?" you murmur. "But okay, only because you have such a way with words."

You're about to close the distance, but you slump against her instead, passing out.

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening. 

Suddenly, Enid burst through the room. Well, first, it was a bee, and then Enid.

"We're here! I'm going to wolf out and beat that motherfuc—oh, you guys already won."

The group follows quickly behind Enid, taking in the gory scene.

"Jesus Christ, Addams," Bianca scowls at her. "Did you make Fae do all the work? What happened to the Addams that held someone hostage to torture them?"

Wednesday doesn't respond to the comment, merely passing you to Enid and Yoko to carry. "Take her to the nurse quickly."

"It'll be faster if I carry her in my wolf form," Enid says. "Let's take her outside first."

"I can do some first aid to hold her over," Bianca follows. "Let's get her near the river; I can use the river water."

They all take a moment to stare at you. 

"I didn't know she had wings," Yoko comments. "They're beautiful."

"If rumors of her wings go around, I will—"

"Obviously, we're not going to talk about them, Addams," Bianca rolls her eyes. "You don't need to threaten our lives."

Wednesday shrugs. 

"Let's just get going," Enid starts to move. Everyone begins to follow except Xavier. He stays and lingers around Wednesday.

"You need medical attention too," Xavier glosses over her, specifically the wound in her arm. 

"I'm fine," Wednesday brushes him off, turning around to stare at Henry on the ground. "You should go help them."

Xavier follows Wednesday's gaze. "I can help you carry him back."

"I'm not bringing him back," Wednesday monotones.

Xavier sighs. "Wednesday, I know what he did was horrible and he should die for it, but you can't kill him. Weems might—"

"I'm not going to kill him either," Wednesday interrupts. "You should leave."

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

Xavier hesitates for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh and turning to leave the room.

Something scuddles into the room, and Wednesday turns to see Thing.

"There you are, Thing," Wednesday says. "Let's see if your scalpel skills improved."

PART 10

[aishangotome]

Roger Barel: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

♡———♡

I got into the carriage with Roger and Alfons, who were accompanying me on the mission.

Kate: What exactly is this "Death Party"?

(And... I don't understand the relevance at all.)

Kate: Why am I being made to change into a dress?

This morning, after finishing breakfast, I was taken to the dressing room and dressed from head to toe by the maids without any explanation.

Roger: Hmm, what's the matter? You came along without knowing anything?

Roger: Lil' lady, I'm impressed you've managed to survive this long.

If you're going to say that, I have plenty to say in my defense.

Kate: Because I became your exclusive Fairytale Keeper, I thought you would explain things to me!

Roger: Ah, is that so? My bad, my bad. Then let Roger explain it to you kindly and carefully.

(You're the one who brought me here without saying anything, what's so kind and careful about that...?)

...Anyway, Roger told me about the mission from the beginning.

Deep in the forest, there is a secret party held every night at a nobleman's mansion.

Rumors of fatal accidents happening there have reached the Queen.

The rumors increased over time, and finally, the police tried to infiltrate.

However, the undercover team had already been marked and were turned away by the guards at the party venue.

(So, the place we're going now is somewhere even the police can't get into...?)

Kate: Then, wouldn't we also be turned away at the gate...?

Alfons: Please rest assured.

A card the size of a playing card danced between Alfons' long fingers.

Alfons: We have obtained an invitation card. All that's left is to disguise ourselves as nobles and infiltrate.

His thin lips curved into a smile.

Alfons: Ah, would you like to ask me where I got the invitation card?

Kate: ...... I'll pass.

The Crown has too many secrets, and it would be endless if I wanted to know them all.

Roger: Getting back to the dress you're wearing.

Roger: The party requires a female companion, so you're wearing a dress and accompanying me.

(That's a simpler reason than I thought. And the problem is...)

Kate: What's going on at the secret party?

Roger: We believe it's highly likely that some kind of drug is being used at the party.

Kate: Drugs at the party? Why?

Alfons: For pleasure.

Roger: The Pharmacy Act. ...... Do you know it?

Kate: No, I'm not very familiar with the law......

Roger: In the UK, the Pharmacy Act was enacted to regulate the sale of medicines.

Roger: But the enactment of the Pharmacy Act was already several years ago.

Roger: It hasn't really taken hold, and there are many loopholes that allow people to use drugs for fun.

Roger: Any substance that is harmful to humans should be immediately classified as a poison and regulated under the Pharmacy Act.

Roger: Her Majesty is also eager to enact the law and make it known to the general public.

Kate: It's a worrying situation if illegal drugs are spreading despite the Pharmacy Act...

(The party we're about to infiltrate is also one of those places where such drugs are rampant for pleasure...)

Kate: So...this mission is mainly about gathering information rather than condemnation?

Roger: Yeah. Infiltrate, confiscate and report if drugs are being used. That's it.

The scene of condemnation I witnessed the night I first met the Crown.

I'm a little relieved that I don't have to see it.

Alfons: Even so––

(Hmm?)

Alfons: You're really dressed up tonight.

Alfons: This night dress, with such a high slit and exposed legs...

Lewd fingertips flip up her skirt.

Kate: Wh- Stop it!

She hurriedly covers herself, but Roger also casts a lewd glance at the bare skin peeking through her fingers.

Roger: I agree. Even for a noble role, that's too much service. You look really delicious.

Kate: You said you wouldn't touch me because it would be troublesome to have a mess to clean up later!

Roger: Just because I find it annoying doesn't mean I don't have sexual desires.

Roger: If you leave yourself wide open, I'm going to take advantage of that.

Kate: What!?

I was stunned by Roger's nonchalant remark when Alfons' voice whispered into my ear.

Alfons: Miss Kate, you need to live your life with iron underwear on your heart. This man is a muscle-powered beast.

Roger: Hey, hey, is that what you say to an old friend?

Alfons: We're friends? Did you hit your head somewhere?

The two of them seem to be old acquaintances, but they always bicker like this when they meet.

"The more you fight, the closer you get."

I said that to them once, and they looked at me like I was disgusting, so I don't say it anymore.

(Putting aside how much I should believe Roger's statement and the relationship between the two of them...)

Kate: Anyway, I want to do my best on this mission.

Alfons: Why?

Kate: I've been a mere bystander up until now, but this time I'm going to a party where women are needed.

Kate: Even though I'm just an escort, I'll be able to participate in the mission.

(Up until now, I've been watching everyone from a distance because I'm a new Fairytale Keeper.)

Kate: I want to fulfill my role as a Fairytale Keeper. Of course, I'll do my best not to be a burden.

As soon as I put my determination into words, the carriage passed through the gate of the mansion.

Roger and Alfons both took on the "Crown" look as we entered the target's territory.

Alfons: Roger, put that shotgun away. I don't want to be turned away at the door.

-

We were easily admitted to the mansion using the invitation Alfons had obtained.

Women in glamorous dresses and men in tailcoats, people who at first glance could be identified as upper class, were chatting with drinks in hand.

Kate: ... Huh? Where's Alfons?

I noticed that he was nowhere to be seen, even though he had been with us until we entered the hall.

Roger: Don't worry. Al is well-connected and perfect for gathering information.

Roger: It's better to let him loose like a stray cat.

I was surprised that there was no detailed plan before we infiltrated, but apparently, the Crown members don't have clear roles either.

(They read the situation and act accordingly. Is that because they have a strong relationship of trust?)

(Or is it because of the strength of each member, who can handle any situation...?)

Considering the strong personalities of the members, I thought it must be the latter, when I suddenly felt a gaze.

(I feel like I'm being watched...?)

I was chilled for a moment, thinking that my identity might have been exposed, but as I observed my surroundings, I realized that wasn't the case.

--"I wonder whose son he is."

--"He's lovely. This is the first time I've seen him here."

The sweet gazes of the young ladies were fixed on Roger, who was next to me.

(I forgot because we're rarely together outside of Crown Castle, but Roger...)

--CHOICES--

Seems well-bred

Has an intelligent aura

Has a nice body

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

(He has a nice body... He's tall and well-built.)

His attractive physique was evident even through his suit.

(Sometimes when he talks to me at close range, my heart skips a beat... but no, no!)

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Roger calmly looked around the venue.

Roger: ...Those young ladies over there are showing symptoms of some kind of addiction.

Kate: Addiction symptoms...?

Roger: Yeah. Their smiles are distorted. There's a possibility that their central nervous system is malfunctioning.

Kate: ...So, there's a high possibility that drugs are being used for pleasure?

Roger: Yeah, it would be easy if we could catch them in the act.

Roger: Still... if British medicine were more advanced, there wouldn't be such trivial incidents.

I knew what he meant, but it was difficult to find a trustworthy doctor in London.

Kate: There are quack medicines, quack treatments, and even quack doctors...

--When I first became a Fairytale Keeper, Liam told me something.

*earlier*

Liam: Roger comes from a medical family. His father is a wealthy man who still runs a clinic in town.

Liam: The Crown has a lot of complicated backgrounds, so Roger might be a rare type.

*back to present*

(If things had gone smoothly, he could be like that young man over there, laughing with a glass of wine in his hand.)

(It wouldn't be strange for Roger to inherit the family business...)

(But instead, Roger chose the path of punishing evil with evil.)

Kate: Roger, why did you join Crown?

Roger: So, you're asking why I didn't inherit the house and enjoy wine and women like those guys, right?

(Ugh, he's sharp... It's like he can read my mind.)

Kate: Yes, Crown is a dangerous place, even though it's under Her Majesty's nose.

Kate: I thought it wouldn't be worth the risk to jump in unless there was a special reason.

Roger: Hmm, so if I had a special reason?

Roger: Like, if there was research I could only do here.

(Research that can only be done at Crown...?)

Kate: ...What kind of research are you doing, Roger?

That was a question I had also wondered about in the underground laboratory.

Roger: I want to eliminate the cursed ones from this world.

(Eliminate the cursed ones? What does that mean...?)

I stared back into Roger's eyes, confused.

Roger: I'm cursed with the Hunter of Betrayal.

The "cursed ones" are people who have been cursed since birth.

Because of that curse, they are destined to "commit a crime and meet a tragic end."

Kate: Betrayal... Is that your destiny, Roger?

Roger: Yeah, maybe I'm a super dangerous thinker who will betray the Crown?

(......)

Roger: So, Kate, what would you do in that case?

(In that case--)

Kate: As your personal Fairytale Keeper, I'll watch you 24/7, and if you do anything strange... I'll stop you with all my might.

Roger: Pfft, hahaha! You're really funny. You're a good person to the core.

Roger laughed and ruffled my hair.

Kate: Hey, don't try to distract me like that!

Roger: If you stay by my side 24/7, the day may come when you understand the meaning of what I just said.

Alfons: Excuse me for interrupting your fun.

I turned around at the sound of his voice to see Alfons, who had been nowhere to be found earlier.

Alfons: Miss Kate, Roger. This party was a hit after all.

Kate: A hit? ...Does that mean...

Alfons: There was a fun show going on in another room. Please come this way.

.

.

.

.

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Roger Barel - Chapter 3 Letter

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