#but in a real-world au it made more sense for the characters to mention their parents occasionally

[quaranmine]

random firewatch au detail that has basically no impact on the story unless you want to psychoanalyze fw!grian even further than i did as the author, but it's very intentional that i always refer to both of mumbo's parents but only grian's mom. did i give him daddy issues? i guess so, but not in a way where i really deeply examined the implications as meaningful to the story. it was just a detail i stuck with from the beginning as a way to keep fleshing out the story's background subtly. the idea behind grian's dual citizenship was always that he was born in america to an american dad and british mom, and that his mom moved back to the UK when he was very young since she wanted to be closer to her family. perhaps his dad didn't go with them? or perhaps his dad did, and then later they split and he went back to america? whatever the cause, grian never even mentions his dad in the story, and it wasn't because i intended him to be dead (because that would have come up in a story about grief) if you get me

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 3: Medusa's Snake

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x femcoach!reader

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Yuuji, Choso and Sukuna are brothers. Toji is a nice parent. Praising. Warnings: Cursed words. Mentions sexual harassment. Word Count: 2685 words. Author's Note: I just finished and I could finally write this *cries happily*

Night was slowly falling over Tokyo. The small, cozy ramen bar stood out with its warm lights and glowing signs. The air was filled with the captivating fragrance of bone broth bubbling in the pots. The dim lighting enhanced the skill of the chef, whose expert hands moved gracefully as he masterfully prepared the noodles at the counter. The murmur of diners, mixed with the sound of steam and noodles cooking, created a gastronomic symphony.

In the middle of the stage, Yuuji, Megumi and I were there to relax after another day of hard training. The delicious broth and the comfort of carbs soothed the stress we had accumulated over the past few days. Sukuna and I have been training relentlessly for the past month for the fight that was coming up in a few days. Toji Fushiguro is a superb Muay Thai fighter, a real threat to a boxer like Sukuna. We had to be prepared.

"My brother didn't let you rest?” Yuuji asked me when he saw me stretching my neck with some help from my hands.

"Yes, he told me not to even dare to think about resting because he would kick me out of the gym,” I replied. The stress in my neck came back from just thinking about his tantrums.

I understood that he was nervous about the fight. He had an important title to defend, and every fighter in his weight class and in back-to-back weight classes wanted it. Sukuna is just a king protecting his crown, but this was already too much. All his tension was slowly creeping up on my back. I had to admit that his dedication is admirable. While we were eating a delicious bowl of ramen without worrying about ruining our diets, Sukuna was still training in the empty gym.

“Sukuna always acts like this. It only gets worse with every fight,” Megumi explained without looking away from his bowl.

“Doesn’t he have a hobby or something like that? If he keeps tensing his muscles like that, it could be bad in the long run.” I knew from experience.

“He does, but we can't help him with that.” Yuuji shook his head.

“What? Why not?” I asked. I was his coach, I should know.

Yuuji looked for a second at Megumi as if he was hesitating whether to tell me or not. It was little moments like these that made me understand why they were friends despite having two completely different personalities. They could communicate with just their looks and a few gestures. I wish I had a connection like that with someone. Yuuji let out a sigh and went back to eating, completely evading the question.

“Why don't you want to tell me?” I asked him directly.

“It's just… it's not like she relaxes with it. It's more like a good luck ritual,” he explained reluctantly.

Good luck rituals are common in any sport. There are soccer players who sing anthems before taking the field, baseball players who wear a special pair of socks, and fighters who tattoo talismans on their backs. I was used to that kind of thing, and I'm sure Yuuji was too.

“There's nothing wrong with that,” I said.

“It is because Sukuna doesn't know how to hold back,” Yuuji replied.

I could sense that he wanted to avoid the topic. I didn't know exactly why, but he must have had a good reason to do so, so I decided not to insist and continue eating, but we no longer conversed. It wasn't an awkward silence, we were just tired of the subject and needed to relax.

“Yuuji, she's his coach, maybe you should tell her,” Megumi commented after finishing his bowl…

“It's unnecessary,” his friend answered.

“Gojo knows about it, I think she should also know in case Sukuna tries something, don't you think?” With that comment, I knew that this was no ordinary ritual.

“You're right.” Yuuji sighed before looking at me. “The thing is… Sukuna must have satisfying sex the night before the fight for good luck,” he finally blurted out.

"That's not weird”. I commented before shoving another mouthful of ramen into my mouth. "Why didn't you want to tell me? You didn't want to embarrass your brother?”

“Because that's why he and Choso don't talk to each other anymore.” Yuuji brought up the story.

Days before the night Sukuna became the champion of the light heavyweight weight class, the three brothers had dinner with their parents. At this dinner, Choso excitedly introduced his fiancée. She was his love and pride, his better half. According to Yuuji, she was a very pretty and nice girl, and as usual, Sukuna avoided her like the plague because he was not interested in meeting her at all.

Since the championship was held in Las Vegas, Choso and his fiancée stayed in the same hotel as Sukuna because Choso wanted to show her how cool his brother was (despite being a complete jerk). The night before the fight, Choso woke up in the middle of the night and realized that his fiancée wasn't in bed with him. She wasn't in the bathroom, and she didn't take her phone with her, but she took her room key with her.

He went out to look for her and couldn't find her anywhere, so he went to Sukuna for help. As he was about to knock on the door, his fiancée came out of the room with her hair matted and her panties in her hand. He knew about Sukuna's lucky ritual, so he knew perfectly well what had happened. His fiancée cheated on him with his damn brother. Choso went crazy and jumped at Sukuna, but he knocked him out before he could do anything.

Choso woke up in the hospital bed with Yuuji next to him. According to him, he had never seen him so broken and betrayed in his life. He cried all night while his brother was preparing for their fight. He knew his brother could be many things, but he never thought he would be capable of being a traitor. Needless to say, despite everything, Sukuna won the fight.

"What a jerk.” I grumbled through my teeth.

"My brother doesn't care about anyone or anything. He can't be changed. I don't know where my parents failed in his upbringing,” Yuuji mentioned with a sigh.

"That's why you should be careful, Sukuna is capable of doing anything to win,” Megumi warned me.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for telling me.”

The days passed and the fight was one day away. After a tedious trip to Dubai and a quick stop to unpack at the hotel. The team, Sukuna and I headed out bright and early to the official weigh-in with the fight referee and judges. After Sukuna had lunch, we headed to the exhibition weigh-in at the hotel's convention center. This is where the fighters must appear to be brawling before the fight to get the public's attention. There is also a press round for them to publicize the event during the day.

Sukuna, Gojo and I were called to the stage along with Toji Fushiguro and his trainers to be the next to go on stage. Sukuna was wearing his headphones and had a very unfriendly look on his face. Gojo asked him to take them off, and he did so between tantrums as I mentally prepared myself to go on stage. This reminded me of the good old days.

As we walked out onto the stage, the press cameras began to flash and the murmur of reporters manifested itself in the room. I kept my face as serious as possible as Sukuna and Toji greeted each other and prepared for the weigh-in. I watched as he took off his hoodie to reveal his tribal tattoos proudly to the audience. The fighters reluctantly greeted each other and stepped on the scales. The weight was somewhat different from the morning, as both had eaten breakfast at the hotel buffet. Toji weighed 220 pounds, while Sukuna weighed 215.

The audience applauded when it was announced that both passed the weigh-in. The only thing left was the press round. After Sukuna and Toji exchanged threats, all of us on stage sat at a long table. Two coaches between the fighters to keep things from getting personal. The emcee asked if anyone had any questions, and the requests bombarded him. The emcee decided to give the floor to the reporter in front of me.

"I have a question for the Medusa’s Snake! How did the man-hating former welterweight champion of the women's division become the coach of the champion with clear anger issues!?” The reporter exclaimed so that everyone present could hear the question.

I could feel Sukuna's eyes drilling into my skull for me to turn around and give him explanations on the spot. I carefully approached the microphone to speak loud and clear.

"I may not like men, but I like champions. I always belong to the winning team," I answered while the photographers kept flashing me.

Medusa’s Snake was the nickname I was baptized with in the first fight I had against a man in the gym I used to belong to. That fighter was a disgusting man from my past who harassed me in and out of the gym. He would always watch me, try to touch me and follow me home. That was until one day I asked him to train with him, since he was so interested in me. He agreed and during the fight he tried to touch my tits, that was until I kicked him and knocked out a couple of his teeth. He ended up in the hospital and didn't wake up until a day later. From then on I was nicknamed that way, and my brand as a champion was to be mean to men but honest with women. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

"How is your neck? Can you train the world champion in that state?!” Another reporter asked.

I used to be the world champion in my weight class until during my fight with Maki Zenin, I fell badly on my neck and tore it. I won the fight, but I lost a lot of range of motion in my neck. The doctor ordered me to rest for an indefinite period of time. It's been like that for three years now.

"I feel fine, but I'm not fully recovered. My focus at the moment is on doing everything I can to keep Sukuna as champion.” I replied.

"Mr. Ryomen! It is known that you are very strict with the people who enter your gym and that there are no women! Why the change?!” Another reporter asked. Sukuna took a few seconds to think about his answer, I could already imagine what stupid thing he would say next.

"I chose her because she is the best.” He answered without further ado.

A small smile infiltrated my face before I could hide it. That response caught me off guard. It was the first time Sukuna had recognized me like that. I'd be lying if I said it hadn't been nice to be recognized for the first time in two months of work. In fact, it's the first time I've been recognized as a trainer in a long time. Being a woman in a male-dominated world is complicated. You have to be good enough to be accepted, but not be the best so as not to overshadow any man with fragile masculinity.

After a couple more questions and an exchange of threatening hints, we went back backstage. We were about to head to the hotel gym to warm up a bit, but Sukuna stopped me halfway down the hall to confront me. A move that not only seemed strange to me, but also to the team.

"Are you a world-class fighter?” Sukuna questioned me. He couldn't be serious. I was going to answer, but Nanami stepped in.

"Didn't you know that?” He asked him to make sure he wasn't joking.

"Did you think we just brought you some random pretty girl so you could finally learn floor techniques?” Gojo interjected in amusement.

"I don't waste my time watching female fighting,” Sukuna answered, slightly blushing with embarrassment for being the only one who didn't know who I was.

"That explains why she beat you up the first day,” Itadori commented with a chuckle.

"I'm not surprised coming from Medusa’s Snake," Someone said in a thick voice behind us.

He was none other than Toji Fushiguro. A tall, strong and powerful man. A fighter easily recognizable in the crowd. If you put a bag over his head, people could still recognize him by his large physique. Unlike his body, his appearance was quite plain. He had a haircut that was not so long, but not so short. He wore a black sweatshirt, gray shorts and sandals from the brand that sponsors him. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had a pleasant smile, decorated with a small cut on his lip.

"It's nice to finally meet you,” he greeted me directly, completely ignoring his opponent.

It felt strange for him to approach me in such a friendly manner, but I still accepted his greeting. Megumi appeared behind him, looking like he was wondering the same thing I was.

"Do you know her, dad?” Megumi asked him in confusion.

"Do you remember the fight your cousin Maki lost three years ago?” Toji asked without taking his eyes off me. Megumi nodded. “She finished the fight with a perfect Kimura*, someday you should teach me how to do that,” he flattered me with a proud smile, but it vanished when Sukuna came between us.

Kimura: A technique whose main objective is to exert pressure on the opponent's shoulder and elbow joint to achieve submission in various wrestling disciplines.

"Not in your dreams, old man.” Sukuna barked with a frown. “She signed a contract saying she belongs to me, so don't even try.”

Seeing Sukuna so defensive about keeping me on his side was strange. After the last two months, he has done nothing but scold me every time I do something wrong in his eyes. Toji didn't even flinch at his threat. I poked him in the ribs to get him to step aside and let me talk.

"Thanks for the compliment and the offer, but Sukuna is the only one I plan to train until I get back on my feet. I plan to return to the ring soon,” I explained with a smile.

“I understand. If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he said while pointing at Megumi. Toji approached Sukuna and gave him a proud smile. “Take good care of her, snakes are great at escaping,” he advised him with a wink before walking away with Megumi and the rest of his team behind him. Sukuna muttered a curse under his breath and let him go.

Two big UFC fighters had recognized me as a good coach and fighter on the same day. It was a big step for my self-esteem and my career. My heart was beating like crazy with excitement, and the smile on my face didn't seem to go away anytime soon.

“You're smiling like an idiot,” Sukuna scolded me.

"Can't I be happy that the heavyweight champion just complimented my skills?” I said as we headed for the exit with the others once Toji left our sight.

"That better be it, and you better not be thinking about going with him,” he challenged me.

"Are you jealous?” I joked while nudging him.

"Of course not,” Sukuna answered while rolling his eyes.

"Don't worry, just behave, and I'll still be yours,” I said in a mocking tone. I was partly joking and partly not. I really wanted him to behave.

"Nice try,” he spat before picking up the pace to go with Gojo, leaving me behind. “Worth the shot” I thought as I followed them.

Next →

Masterlist.

Order your own fanfic! (Starting $5 USD!)

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[thatdeadaquarius]

Harry Potter/Genshin Impact Crossover Fun🎉

for @kiraisastay my beta reader for the big fat Eldritch AU awhile back! :)

“…a genshin/Harry Potter crossover where reader (still fem) comes from genshin (so she has a vision) and tries to fit in at Hogwarts (would love for it to be set around the Goblet Of Fire so the hp characters in that age start maturing and actually understand what happens around them and aren't little kids , plus, y'know, YULE BALL), would also like for the reader to have a more stoic/emotionless personality with tragic past (so like having scars y'knowww) cuz it makes character building a lot more juicy ahah, but you can write it however you want tho!! (this can be funnier to write if you're feeling a lot creative)”

UGH sorry i took forever! im rlly bad at estimating time...

I hope this is a fun read at least, and thanks for much for taking on that eldritch monster fic awhile back lol

☆

Orbit: Long Headcanon/fic-thing (~2k words) - Harry Potter x Genshin Impact Crossover (4th Year)

Sun: Feminine Reader (she/her), Slytherin Reader, Reader is 15-16 year old.

Stars: Harry, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, Viktor Krum, mentions of others.

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader has rough past, & Trigger Warnings: vague mentions of scars, Reader has bad relationship with parents.

☆

You’re so fucking happy your Cryo Vision came with you.

You knew you were in a different country, one you definitely had never been to before, but you couldn’t figure out for the life of you where it was at first

Your first guess was Fontaine, but the robes and strange overuse of catalyst weapons (actually, only catalyst weapons??) began to convince you otherwise real quick,

Fontaine was just the closest country you could compare it to

yeah so obviously by the time u realized you shouldn't be waving a sword around, it was too late lmao, u scared the shit out of the potions shopkeeper and had to make a hasty exit

bc for some reason any other weapon than a catalyst is shamed here?? which makes no sense to you, as it seems like their “magic” here could just as easily be channeled into different weapons/items??

u guess not having monsters to randomly fight everytime u just wanna take a walk outside makes for a pretty peaceful world, and specifically this country ”England” or the “United Kingdom”

u had taken a week or so to re-orient yourself to this new world, how only a certain society knew about their magic, how there were no gods here, at least not any u could easily interact with, and that most people your age would be in school still???

while u could choose to pursue higher education or specialize in Sumeru’s Akademiya, basic schooling was still provided in every country in Teyvat up until about 15 years old

but at this point u were willing to do what it took to blend into this world, and u didnt want anyone to be asking how old u were/why u werent in school when you wandered around, so u went to Hogwarts

It also proved to be a good way to acquaint urself with the world/its magic and give u a place to better excuse any social or magical mistakes

But needless to say, u struggled, u had to constantly find some workaround for “magic” from the wands/catalysts in classes

and luckily they took u being a transfer student pretty smoothly, as u were just in time for the “Triwizard Tournament” to be announced and other schools were coming to participate, u easily got accepted in

and the only one who batted an eye at it was the weird old Headmaster, who u already suspected knew more abt u than he was letting on (Dumbledore seemed to have eyes everywhere the more u learned, which made u more suspicious of him too)

you'd been sorted into Slytherin, along with the Russian magical students, (Durmstrang?)

of which you had absolutely no frame of reference for how bad that was, other than being accused of literally being from the Abyss 💀

while the rest of the student body treated u with the basic contempt u learned all Slytherins just seemed to kind of get all the time, ur own house was a little more confusing when it came to you

some were curious abt all the scars, the strange glowing snowflake gem that u concealed on ur hip, what ur country was like and what the magic school over there was like (thank fuck for ur poker face and insane lying skills that made it believable)

(there was absolutely a rumor abt u pulling a sword on Filch at some point, u neither denied nor supported it)

the other half of the slytherins were all uptight about u possibly being a “Muggleborn” and sneered at u every chance they got (some weird blond kid a year or 2 below you??)

or they outright ignored u

tbh u didn't really get much genuine favor between Slytherins just being Slytherins and ur own reputation/cold disposition until Professor Snape saw how good u were at potions a month into this insanity

(it was just basic alchemy? nearly everyone, especially Vision-users, knew how to do it back home? why was it so special here?? u had this kind of question a lot in this world over most things, like the “muggles dont know abt magic” thing, it seem like more trouble than its worth.)

U both got along in the same way a cold-demeanor father bonds with his carbon copy cold-demeanor daughter lol

in which he invited u for tea sometimes out of polite extra teaching for “ur future plans of being a potion master, like myself”

which okay?? u were better than most ur age at potions bc of alchemy (which u learned is taught at higher levels of potion mastery) and its not like you've figured out how to get back to ur world anytime soon

so u just roll with that being ur “future career” for now, it makes the old emo professor happy so u figure why not

And its the first scrap of favor you’ve found here so it works

Tho u did complain at Snape for picking on Gryffindors, saying “ur rlly not helping that Slytherin reputation for tall dark and evil here”

He proceeded to make u clean and reorganize his potion stores for that lol

(Tho he did start to lighten up the more u picked on him abt it, the poor kid with huge round glasses followed you with his huge green eyes for weeks, he seems to be the only one who's really realized ur the one convincing Snape to mellow out)

U begin researching information (thanks to Snape) in the forbidden part of the library abt different worlds/time travel, anything thatd put u close to possibly getting back home

Or, to be honest, a portal would be better, bc youd like to come back here sometimes,

Its not like u have family back home (not any who you'd want to visit), mostly just a few good friends who'd be worried abt u (Childe misses his sparring partner for sure)

Which then leads u to noticing that boy with the black hair and big round glasses (was it smth like,,, harold sculptor? Atp that seems like a feasible name to you bc in this world parents rlly were cruel abt naming their kid “feathery” or smth wild)

Harold and two others, one with fluffy long hair, and the other a redhead,

Were attempting to “spy” on u from behind bookshelves or at tables seated near the forbidden section

U saw them learn the times u came there and how they made sure to match them (tho it seems the redhead got bored easily and begged to eat instead)

You'd actually managed to make friends with some Durmstrang friends in the meantime too

And by that u mean Viktor Krum mostly

Ppl were constantly obsessed with him and he'd managed to escape up the astronomy tower to get some peace and quiet,

Only to run into u reading away, and he'd heard abt ur reputation, and wanted to befriend u

U two got along rlly well, lots of peaceful silences, and chill convos, esp since u guys had some stuff in common

Mostly how ur both foreign to Hogwarts/this country and adjusting still

Anyway that is to say, Viktor teased u abt the ducklings following u around everywhere thinking they were sneaky

And this was a routine u got used to, until it was time for the tournament

You hadnt bothered to put ur name in, u didnt feel like risking ur life for no reason afterall

So needless to say u were pissed when rumors went around abt u putting Harol- Harry's name in the goblet

(u finally learned his name, apparently he's famous for not dying? As a baby?? A powerful tyrant evil wizard wanted to kill him as a baby??? Just,, why)

Not only that but then he was obligated to be in the tournament???

U knew there was smth insane abt this school, bringing back this crazy tournament in the first place, somehow getting Harry's name in the goblet,

but u didn't think they were batshit crazy.

(Dumbledore is not helping his case in your eyes, esp as u suspect he’s got Snape involved in his BS too somehow…)

So needless to say you were going to fix this mess since these seasoned “wizard adults” weren't 😒

You snuck into the Great Hall using a high level alchemy invisibility amulet, and used ur Cryo vision to extinguish the Goblet of Fire 💀

It reset the game, and luckily they were able to resubmit the champions to the Triwizard Tournament and hide away the Goblet before it got tampered with again

Lol u got Harry out of it, and it wasnt until later in the library that u get cornered by the Gryffindor fourth year himself

He admits to seeing u under his invisibilty cloak that night and thanks you for getting him out of that hell, poor kid looks so grateful 😭

But regardless of that, he insists u tell him abt the ice spell u used, how u used it wandless, with no incantation, etc.

You just gave him a small smile (his big green eyes look even more shocked behind the glasses, what, was that old professor right? do u rlly not smile that much?) and tell him he owes u one

He agrees and u go on ur way to the forbidden section

(U dont explain the ice, afterall, who would believe him? You werent even that much older, and only “master wizards” could do what u did)

After that, Harry starts to follow u around a lot more,

much to the annoyance of his redhead friend (Rodrick? Rocky? smth with a R-) and the absolute admiration of the younger girl with big hair

the champions start the first trial, and u help Viktor out with a plan to defeat the dragon and get the egg in one piece (u had lots of experience with monsters after all, and Viktor and Snape, who couldn't keep his big nose out of your business, were simultaneously disturbed and yet not surprised by this information)

it works flawlessly, and that's when you notice the new DA teacher acting suspicious

as the champions gear up for the 2nd trial, u help Viktor try to figure out the egg’s secrets,

Both Harry and Hermione have taken to interrupting ur library research time (u finally learned her name, but not the redhead, he seemed a bit rude tbh so u don't care to know)

after brainstorming (well more like talking at the brick wall that was Snape) with the old potions professor over tea gossip time again, u finally figure out how to get the egg open without screaming, and tell Viktor

Who thanks u by taking u to the Yule Ball, but u only manage the first dance before u get absorbed in the food and the cool decor, and u also convince him to gossip with u in the corner too

(u do appreciate having a reason to dress up at least, as you attempt to imitate the Tsaritsa herself with this dress)

U notice further on into the night that Hermione ran out looking upset, and ur “girl’s girl” instinct kicks in, (regardless of ur neutrality for her, u lie to urself) and follow her outside to comfort her

u talk, and tho ur cold demanour did intimidate her a little, after she realized u were genuinely trying to help her, she took u up on the offer, and asked if u two could be friends since she’s “surrounded by stupid Gryffindor boys all the time”

u agreed amused, and convinced her to join Viktor and u in ur gossip session, which Harry (after humiliating himself on the dance floor), joined in later as well

(You may or may not have iced the floor secretly under the redhead’s and the equally annoying prissy Slytherin blonde’s feet, sending them sprawling on top of each other, so neither would come bother u four)

Over the next week you hear from Hermione’s researching/studying sessions with you that Ron did apologize to her, of which u advised her to get revenge on him anyway lmao

Harry at one point came groaning and complaining to you abt Cedric bothering him abt the egg problem, and u went ahead and gave it to him

Finally the next task was here, something abt rescuing smth underwater that mattered to each of the champions

u were immediately on ur guard when Dumbledore called u and 3 other seemingly random ppl to ur office (but u began to connect the dots after realizing one of them was the little sister of the Fontai- French Champion)

only to deflect the spell that would've knocked u out, and instead pretend to be knocked out

u obv kept ur Vision on u at all times, as always, and realized what was happening as the teachers levitated u all out to the lake

Snape snapped about being the one in charge of you, (and lowkey told u he knew u were awake, did he sound a little,, proud?? no, not Snape surely of all ppl)

Viktor did end up fishing you out, which he said u “looked like a very unhappy drenched old tom cat” while swimming to shore, (u awkwardly pat him on the back for thinking ur the best part of Hogwarts, and then smacked him for getting u kidnapped to go into a freezing lake)

and u also ended up helping Viktor rescue the other girl left behind, and froze some of the mermaids’ tails in the water for their trouble

Fleur was so grateful that she came to hunt you (and Viktor too at the time) for helping her and her sister that she came to thank u two again while at the library

which then led to her sometimes hanging around ur table at the library (everyone avoids it like the plague initially bc of you, but now youve got a gaggle of wizards rotating out all the time, like the younger years Harry/Hermione/Ron, Viktor, and now Fleur)

by the time the third trial rolls around, youve taken to bullying the prissy blonde brat a year below you to keep him from not only bothering Harry and Hermione, but also ur own peace and quiet

The other Slytherins are beginning to warm up to you, or at least not actively ignore you, since you’ve been hanging around Viktor Krum, along with gaining favor from Snape more obviously (he’d plopped a singular towel in ur lap after getting out of the lake, and u might as well have “Snape’s Favorite” written across ur forehead for all that means)

(also some of them may or may not find u roasting the annoying blonde bully kid amusing too)

it isn't until u see the creepy retired Aura (or whatever they call their knights) DA professor milling about the castle more, nearer the Gryffindor tower, that you begin to warn Harry to spread the word among his little lion club to not travel alone, esp in the evenings

(u don't like how his weird rolling blue eye looks thru you, it reminds u of Dumbledore)

by the time the third trial is finally announced, you have ur sights set on that weird old man, and end up following him to his classroom at one point,

in which he cracks open a rattling trunk, tosses some food in, and seems to have definitely stolen what you assume to be the Triwizard trophy

he casts a spell on it, and you put on that same invisibiltiy amulet from alchemy to better follow him, and watch him sneak into Dumbledore’s office to return the trophy

(You break the “portkey” spell you find on it)

(you also leave a note behind on the headmaster’s desk to look into a trunk in the new DA professor’s classroom storage, and to be more careful hiring the next one.)

Harry somehow gets sucked into the maze you find out, and you end up sneaking in to save him, using your sword and Cryo Vision to battle him out

(finally, Archons, you didnt realize how much you'd miss fighting monsters)

Aurors descend upon Hogwarts, only just after the trial ends, and Viktor wins (you trained him too well for him to not, and may or may not have viciously sparred with him a little too much for him to not be a little afraid of the consequences of losing after you helped him so much lol)

Just as Harry is taken in by Dumbledore for questioning of how he got trapped in the maze, he runs back to nearly squeeze the life out of you in a hug, he tells you thanks for helping him again (and forced u to promise to teach him sword fighting or “ice magic”)

Then, surprisingly, the entirety of Durmstrang (and some Slytherins??) haul you up into the air with Viktor to celebrate his victory

(You can see Snape snickering at ur misery in the air)

Viktor and Fleur stay penpals, and the “golden trio” (more like “gryffindor triplets”) sticks around your library table

and you think you could start to get used to this, and Harry, Hermione, and Snape had gotten you a Yule/winter gift

(what’s Christmas. and why is everyone obsessed with decorating trees??)

…that is until Hermione looks over your shoulder one day at your usual reading table, and points to a book you’ve chosen for research,

saying “if you need to make a portal somewhere, that’s the book you should be looking in.”

☆

i hope you liked it!! and that it wasn't too much of a clusterfuck/chaos that was barely readable 😅

again, thanks for being patient with me, and here's finally ur payment for dealing with my ass lmao

Happy late new year!!

Safe Travels Kirarisastay,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck

If your tag didnt work, idk why!!

Maybe make sure your a "searchable blog", or make sure u didnt give me a side blog?

(Tumblr is against tagging/DMing side blogs, only main blogs usually can)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The Current event makes me smile since it kind of confirms a headcanon I had that the Great Seven have animated movies based on them. Makes me wonder about the plot of the movies

Disney should get on the Twisted Wonderland AU Animated Remakes. What is Ursula was a good witch, what if Scar was right to take the throne and did he take it from Mufasa? (Or whoever is the stand in for him)

The Evil/Beautiful Queen...actually GOOD?

Yeah, it makes sense! Since the Great Seven are historical figures and the stuff of legends, surely there would be popular media made in their image. It’s like how the Disney fairy tales borrow from stories in the public domain or how there are historical retellings and reinventions (Hamilton, anyone?).

I believe TWST has mentioned films based on their own stories and history before too, but purely in the animated sense rather than live action. In book 3, Ace and one of the Atlantica Museum guards talk about an animated movie based on the tale of the mermaid princess and her prince; this movie is said to have come out ~30 years ago, which corresponds with Disney’s animated The Little Mermaid. Ace compliments the movie’s soundtrack too way to stroke your own ego, Disney/j.

Later on in Tapis Rouge, the characters discuss other films based on the Great Seven, including one Queen of Hearts movie. A Sea Witch movie is also mentioned; in it, she “goes gigantic” and also sings as she brews potions. The Octatrio quite enjoy this particular film.

(Side note: I don’t have the link for it anymore since it’s such an old post, but another anon once suggested to me that people probably also write fanfics of Neige and Vil since they’re celebrities… Think like “My mom sold me to One Direction?!” Wattpad kinds of fics, but replace One Direction with Vil or something.)

It’s… interesting this event specifically has Vil promoting a live action adaption of an in-universe animated film about the Beautiful Queen—an animated film which was the first full-color animated movie AND it originally released close to 90 years ago. They also reference the funding issues that Disney suffered while producing Snow White + inviting bank employees in to preview the movie to acquire more investments, stating that the studio that made the animated Beautiful Queen experienced the same. The in-game live action is even slated to come out “NEXT YEAR”. They’re not being subtle here with TWST’s references to their own version of the irl Disney Snow White (the live action is coming out in 2025, the OG is also almost 90 years old, etc.). I wonder if the EN server will actually get Tapis Rouge around the time of the irl release of Disney’s live action Snow White as part of a promotional campaign? 😂

UPDATE: There are even more not-so-subtle references to Disney animations in part 4 of the event, including discussion of cel animation, rotoscoping, adding blush to the characters, and how Disney brought in real animals/observed the “real thing” to help with animating similar scenes or subjects. They also cheekily say that most animation nowadays is CG 💀

I know some books under Disney publishing try to show alternate tellings or show the villains in a more sympathetic light, but I don’t know that they would ever commit to fully animating a film like that. It definitely would not happen in the style of traditional animation, Disney no longer seems well-equipped to handle that task 😔 I feel like it would also be pretty niche or might not get overwhelming positive reception with recent audience calls for “true bad guys” instead of twist or sympathetic villains (though I’m not sure what percentage of people watching Disney actually have this opinion).

I do wonder how those “AU” films would work though…? It wouldn’t be as simple as suddenly turning the G7 into “good guys”. The scenario and other characters would also have to drastically change. TWST doesn’t necessarily make the original “good guys” “bad” in a world where the villains are historical figures; we still hear plenty of positive or neutral stories about the achievements of the mermaid princess and other Disney heroes.

There are also times when the same story diverges into multiple separate stories that seemingly have no connection to one another. For example, there is a story where a princess marries a street rat (clearly referencing Aladdin) and they live happily ever after in spite of the difference in their social statuses. However, there simultaneously exists a story in which the Sorcerer of the Sands saves a princess from being deceived by a fake prince (also referencing Aladdin). The same goes for the mermaid princess (Ariel)—there is both a story referring to a “mermaid princess” who married a human prince and also a different story (clearly still pulled from the same film) about a mermaid who made a deal with the Sea Witch to find true love but broke her contract in the end.

Very cool idea, just not sure where it would lead or it it’s feasible or worth it monetarily for Disney.

[yuri-is-online]

The TWST cast from the original Fyuuture Kid timeline is so Cleopatra by Lumineers coded. They just get their (pregnant) joyfriend ripped away from them, cursed, and then sent back to earth, where they can't follow all in one day. That's gotta be a fucking nightmare. They just lose everything at the same time. Bro. Imagine Jamil or Azul, they had to fight for everything and just when they finally, FINALLY, think they have something that will never leave, it's taken away. Imagine malleus or cater or silver; they've already lost so much, silver just lost his dad and now, when he's going to make his own family, they're taken from him too.

TW FOR SUICIDE.

You wrote one time that of Yuu ever died, Floyd would be quick to follow, so. Did Jade and Azul have to put him on suicide watch? My mind is reeling there were NO WINNERS in this timeline Goddamn.

Sorry for the angst dude I just think about this AU a lot

i am so sorry for making you all live with this many thoughts and just waltzing on off to do fuck all

So there weren't any winners in the original timeline no, but the way things went down sort of prevented the type of outcome you are describing with Floyd due to the potential for hope, that most dangerous of falsehoods. In a way that sort of makes it worse though... so lets talk about what went down shall we?

(I'm going to keep this post to more general information, but I did write some specific ship thoughts I'll probably use for another post later on, I just need to think on some of them more...)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au which can be found under the series section of my masterlist. This post will not contain discussions of suicidal ideation, but will contain major character death and descriptions of violence. If you are curious about what happened to Yuu and Fyuuture kid, look at this post here.

General Original Timeline Facts

To give a brief re-cap of what happens to Yuu, they were arrested by the Magical Marshall's office and sent back to their world, while pregnant, and cursed to forget everything that had happened to them in Twisted Wonderland. Something I didn't mention in that first post, mostly because I intended to imply it in the answer about Riddle's relationship with Yutu but ended up cutting, is that none of the characters actually know that this is what happened at first. They know that Yuu disappeared, but they don't know that the Marshalls were involved or that Yuu went back to their world, which causes a real sense of panic in all of them because holy shit their spouse and unborn child just went missing and they can't seem to get anyone to take this seriously. How the Marshalls went about hiding this information, and what the general public believed happened to Yuu depends on who their husband was, as did the fallout of their disappearance.

For anyone who might be a bit confused, the Magical Marshall's Office is an elite squad of police officers who investigate magical crime, and occasionally deal with overblots. They are the organization that Deuce wants to join one day, which does mean that the people who made the decision to see Yuu as a threat to public safety and send Yuu home were Deuce's own co-workers and friends.

Deuce is the first to suspect that the Marshall's might have had something to do with Yuu's disappearance, but he isn't able to really do much with that. He tries, but he is stonewalled and eventually fired- though by the time that happened monster attacks started getting really bad in the Queendom and Deuce had a whole other set of questions.

Speaking of those monster attacks, the instant Yuu is removed from Twisted Wonderland Grim overblots I have an idea as to why, but it isn't super set in stone. This "Chimera" begins hunting and stirring up monsters, inciting them to attack civilization while it focuses on trying to "wake up" the Phantoms of the Great 7. These phantoms want to re-join with their respective overblot boy, which is an easier task for some of them than others.

The first phantom to re-appear was the Thorn Fairy's. Malleus chose to seal himself and his phantom in an eternal sleep inside the Briar Valley capital after ordering Sebek and Silver to evacuate everyone who lived there, leaving his people truly leaderless and in shambles. He technically also ordered Lilia to go with them, but he refused. He wasn't able to abandon another Draconia to die alone. A lot of nocturnal fae died to the Phantom before Malleus's sacrifice, but because the problem was more or less contained to Briar Valley not all of the other nations saw the monster problem as a threat. They should have.

The second phantom to re-appear was The Queen of Hearts'. Riddle, having been approached by Deuce with his suspicions regarding Yuu's disappearance and outraged by what he saw as a clear violation of the law (if nothing else) was easy prey and re-assimilated into the monster. The phantom then began hunting down each of Riddle's previous dorm mates to corrupt them into card soldiers for its army, eventually fashioning four lieutenants that were a touch more sentient that the others out of Trey, Cater, Deuce, and Ace.

Certain members of the Al-Asim family saw that happen and quietly, without Kalim's knowledge, arrange to have Jamil killed. This doesn't prevent the Sorcerer of the Sands' phantom from reuniting with him, it just means the monster is puppeteering a corpse. And dragging around a second once it gets its hands on Kalim...

Obviously at this point something of a pattern has been established, meaning S.T.Y.X. is expected to do something. Idia does not actually overblot for a second time thank you very much, Phantom Ortho has a mind of his own and he promised to stay in the Underworld until it was Idy's time. His first order of business is to check in on Vil, Azul, and Leona to make sure they're ok. He manages to make contact with Vil, but the Coral Sea proves impossible to get a message through to and Leona is M.I.A. Literally, he and Ruggie have both disappeared while investigating monster attacks around the slums. Idia has a decision to make, and it's not one he really likes, but S.T.Y.X. has a better relationship with the Sunset Savannah than it does the Coral Sea, so it's off to the Elephant Graveyard while Vil agrees to stay behind on the Isle of Woe under observation for his own safety.

It's a decision Idia regrets later. He gets to Leona in time to help him fight and kill the King of Beasts's phantom, but it costs Leona and Ruggie their lives, and while he's there, the Sea Witch's phantom finds Azul and begins using his magic to drain the merfolk dry. Floyd manages to use his unique magic to distract Azul long enough to allow Jade to escape, who only flees because he thought his brother was behind him the whole time. The oceans become polluted with blot, forcing the surviving merfolk to the surface. Many go to NRC and take refuge in the Octavinelle dorm pocket dimension, resulting in the Mostro Lounge being closed to make more room. Somehow that feels more like a killing blow to Azul for Jade than what the phantom did.

Schools like NRC, RSA, and Nobel Bell become sort of centers for survivors due to the large amounts of mages, magical wards, and artifacts that such schools typically have made them safer than most towns. NRC specifically has seen a large influx of magicless people who run a lot of the things the ghosts used to and runs a lot of normal school classes in additional to the magic program, which shifts over time to be more focused on fighting due to the increased monster attacks.

Also Crewel is now Headmage. It would have been Trein but I don't think he needs the stress. I haven't decided if he is still alive or not, but Vargas and Sam are still kicking.

So to give a run down of where everyone stands in the original timeline in order: Malleus and his phantom are trapped in an eternal sleep, Lilia is dead, Silver and Sebek are alive (at least at first) and trying to help the fae refuges displaced by the Thorn Fairy's Phantom. All of Heartslabyul are overblot phantoms, and actively making the Queendom of Roses unlivable. Jamil was assassinated and the Sorcerer of the Sands's phantom went on to kill Kalim and most of his family. To be clear that wasn't because of Jamil's lingering emotions, but good luck explaining that to most people. Vil and Idia are overblot free, Vil because he is being detained on the Isle of Woe and Idia because of his promise with Phantom Ortho. Leona and Ruggie died fighting the King of Beast's phantom. Azul and Floyd are blot phantoms, while Jade is alive and tending bar at what remains of the lounge at NRC.

Now Epel, Rook, and Jack aren't named in that list. No one really knows what happened to them, but they are assumed dead (or at least Jack and Epel are.) Since this is my AU and I get to give out the information, I'll let you know that Rook is a phantom under control of the Fairest Queen's phantom, Jack is dead, and Epel is alive, but cut off from the rest of Twisted Wonderland by the monsters under the Fairest Queen's control. He's right teed off about that, hey Yutu go get him that ladder he's gonna give Rook a piece of his mind-

I do have some ship specific thoughts but I want to cook with them a bit more... but to maaaybe tease some of them?

Yutu and his friends had to fight the Heartslabyul boys multiple times. Yes this hurt their Yutus a lot, and is one of the main reasons Riddle! Yutu hates his dad so much.

Vil can hear the Fairest Queen talking to him and it's not great for his mental stability. Neither is being cooped up in the Isle of Woe, his Yutu did meet him and remembers it being a terrifying experience.

Jade has a good relationship with Floyd! Yutu, Jade and Floyd are their own people but losing Floyd killed a part of him that was slightly healed by getting his nephew back. He likes to tease Azul! Yutu and told him a great deal about his dad. As for his own Yutu... their relationship is a tad strained by how protective Jade is over his son. He is terrified of losing him and what is left of his pearl...

Not all Yutus are in the same dorm as their father. I haven't decided on where all of them are yet, but I did mention once in my replies that Azul! Yutu is in Savanaclaw. I did not mention that he did intend to transfer but couldn't when he accidentally became the Dorm Leader because he got tired of being mouthed off to and knocked someone out. I have an ask about Cater! Yutu I'm working on but I'll add him here as having been put into Octavinelle, and I think I want to put Kalim! Yutu into Pomefiore but I need to cook more...

[milfgyuu]

Lessons in Love Pairing: Choi Jongho x Fem!Reader Series: Mr. Right Next Door Tags: 3.5k, Co-Worker!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Humor Warnings: One good smooch and mentions of more smooching. Summary: Your students learn that both you and the teacher next door are single which brings up the pressing matter of getting you two together. Immediately.

You love teaching your fourth-grade class - they are still sweet and inquisitive. Still learning how the world works and all its wonders. They’ve yet to outgrow their innocence and kindness. It’s a beautiful age to experience with an adult perspective and even more amazing that you’re allowed a hand in growing their ever-expanding knowledge and shaping their character. 

One thing you hadn’t considered was their surprisingly persistent interest in your lack of a love life. 

It had begun at the start of the year when you were getting to know your students and in turn, allowed them to get to know you as well. The kids had so many questions. Did you have a dog? A cat? A house? An apartment? Did you live with your parents? Can you drive a car? Are you married?

It was the answer to the last question that had struck them the most for some reason. You were a grown up but you weren’t married. In their minds, being married is just part of being a grown up so why were you single? What does being single even mean? Do you not know anyone to marry?

A simple introduction had turned into the great inquisition and with wide eyes and a nervous chuckle, you had to re-direct them to the only other interesting topic you could think of. 

Recess. 

Those clever little things hadn’t forgotten about the lack of a band on your left hand though and made it a point to bring it up every few weeks. Did you go on any dates this weekend? What kind of person would you like to date? If you have lunch with someone every day could that be counted as a date?

Admittedly, you fumbled through those. 

You hadn’t realized that you might regret the way in which you answered them because it seems your ever-observant children have been spying you in the cafeteria with the teacher next door whom they’ve also learned is single. 

“So, do you like Mr. Choi? You guys always have lunch together!”

“Yeah! And you guys are always smiling and laughing together!”

“And Mr. Choi brings you coffee!”

“My friend in Mr. Choi’s class said that he is single too!”

“Mr. Choi said you had pretty hair!”

“Mr. Choi has really shiny hair too so your kids would have nice hair!”

Left and right the children pelted you with words you had stopped comprehending after the first mention of ‘Mr. Choi’.

Oh boy. 

Mr. Choi is your next-door neighbor at school. His classroom is actually attached to yours by a shared storage room and you suppose you do spend quite a bit of time together in front of the students but that’s only natural - you spend just as much time with the other fourth grade teachers. 

Well, maybe not the exact same amount of time. You’re usually on lunch and recess patrols together. You always get paired up to chaperone field trips and tend to volunteer for many of the same events like dances and fundraisers. 

If you had to really stop and think about it, Jongho was quite handsome. Broad shoulders, pretty smile, kind eyes. His surprisingly dry sense of humor did always make you laugh and he always leaves a coffee on your desk when he notices you’re running late since he is a chronic early riser. 

Again, you manage to calm the children and their increasing pitch - your eyes darting to the adjoining door between you and Jongho’s classrooms. 

It doesn’t end there, unfortunately, for you and your white blouse, exactly four days later. 

“Imagine the fallout if the kids found out we went on a real date…”

Your mouthful of juice sputters and dribbles down your chin before staining the silk of your top with bright red liquid. 

Jongho’s mouth straightens into a flat line and he hands you several napkins to dab at your ruined mess. “That doesn’t hurt my feelings at all.”

Leveling him with a peeved look you sigh, “It’s not like that,” and glance back down at your blouse, “You just caught me off guard at the worst possible moment.”

Neither of you are on lunch duties today so you’re sat across from each other at a craft table in the corner of your empty classroom. Little paper chains rustle in the crisp air pumping from the school’s icy vents and you’re grateful for them in the moment since they make you keep a long grey cardigan hung over the back of your chair at all times. 

You push back and ignore the sound of your knees popping when you stand to full height. Pinching the material of your shirt you tug at it rapidly as if you have some hope of at least drying the wet spots and speak openly to Jongho who is still diligently picking apart his salad from the cafeteria. 

“I can’t believe they’re all so invested,” you comment before rolling your eyes, “Little gossips.”

Jongho snorts. “I’m surprised that you’re surprised. They love ‘spilling the tea’,” he says with an added flair that tells you it’s something he’s picked up from his students, “Whatever that means.”

“Look at you using the lingo,” you chuckle as you sit back down, “And what ‘real date’? Last I checked cafeteria lunch didn’t count. Thought you’d be more of a romantic, Mr. Choi.”

You’re smirking with mirth until Jongho decides to match your teasing, hooking his foot behind the leg of your chair to haul you closer to the table. You squeak in shock at the jolting motion and he laughs, stabbing another bit of cucumber and moving on like you’re not internally marveling at his flippant show of strength. 

His thighs are kind of thick and firm you suppose if you think about it. 

Which you’re not. 

That would be weird. 

“What?”

You say it so hastily that Jongho looks at you like you’re losing it and laughs. “I didn’t say anything.”

Oh, so it was because you are crazy. 

Embarrassed you shove too much of your sub in your mouth, awkwardly and probably repulsively chewing to manage the gargantuan bite. The sound masks that of the napkin sliding across the table under one of Jongho’s fingers. You look up at him and he just pinches his lips together like he’s sure you don’t want to hear anything he might have to say about the mess on your face. 

After the driest most excruciating swallow you’ve experienced to date, you attempt to wash it down with your water in your stupidly expensive bottle and nothing comes out. Pathetically, you whine and try to pry it open. There is a mechanism on the inside of the lid that keeps jamming and you really could use a new one but they’re pricey and you’re living on a teaching salary and a prayer. 

“Let me help,” he says, pushing back in his little chair to rub his hands over his jeans like he’s preparing to empty his full strength into the effort to open your bottle but when it gives without so much as a pause he snickers and shrugs handing it back over to you. “Not really much of an opportunity to show off.”

You gawk at him. “What are you talking about? That thing was like welded shut!”

Jongho’s brows playfully rise until they’re high enough to hide beneath his fringe and the overwhelming urge to giggle and playfully swat at him nearly swallows you whole. He is so flirting with you.

Openly.

And you’re tripping all over yourself with glee.

Like any free moment in your school day, it comes to an end far too quickly and your classes are due to arrive in less than five minutes to continue instruction. Ignoring the butterflies in your belly, you take both your trash and Jongho’s to dispose of while he straightens up the table and then it’s time for him to head back to his own room and yet…you both awkwardly linger by the door instead.

“We should-”

“Maybe we-”

Embarrassingly enough, you open your mouths at the same time and talk over each other but you know you do not want to finish your own sentence and Jongho rocks back on his heels knowing he’s got a solid sixty seconds before little voices trail down the hall toward the door.

He takes a deep breath and says your name which is so odd because has he ever said your first name? Surely, he has…so why does it sound different now?

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

It comes out in a bit of a rush and he tacks on a “please” after a second thought and you nod because words don’t seem to form and you’re just stupidly staring back at him but…yes…you would like that. A lot. 

Jongho blinks as if he’s shocked that you actually said yes…or well, gestured, that yes you wanted to have dinner together. He hadn’t even planned to ask. He’s not sure when the idea sprouted in his head but once it bubbled up and up and up he just had to let it out. 

Now he has to plan the perfect date in less than five hours which means…

He grins and throws his hand up, thumb pointed toward the door behind you. “Gotta meet the kids…How’s seven o’clock? My place? I’ll cook.”

Still nodding, you manage to say something at last, “Yeah…yes. That’s…fine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He slips out the door and you let out a long laughter-filled breath. With your room still empty, no one catches you twirling all the way back to your desk before you flop down into your chair. Well, it’s possible one person saw you since your door bursts open right after and you’re jumping up and into an incredibly animated history lesson.

Meanwhile, Jongho is assembling his kids in a group huddle because they have a new assignment: Helping him decide what to cook.

Your hands shake down at your sides just after you ring Jongho’s doorbell. 

Fingers dance along the skirts of your dress - one different than you’d wear in the classroom. Typically, you wear fun floral or artful prints with plants or planets. Things the kids love to talk about. This however is one you hope Jongho will think about, even after your gone. Even when he sees you in your overalls on Monday because your kids are working on art projects.

The door clicks open and there is Jongho in fitted black slacks and a loose white button-down smiling back at you. His hair is…fluffier than usual which is an odd distinction to latch onto but the combination of his hair and his clothing, the relaxed slope of his posture….you can’t seem to stop looking at him.

“You look different.”

Jongho chuckles. “You look the same,” he says and it jolts an incredulous laugh out of you, “I meant that to say I think you always look good but I see that sentiment isn’t shared.”

“Are you going to invite me inside or what, Mr. Choi?”

“Wouldn’t dream of sending you away in that dress,” he smarts, stepping aside to let you in, “Besides,” he closes the door behind you both, “You have to see what a romantic I truly am since you decided to tease me about it.”

A romantic indeed.

His home is crisp, clean, inviting, and it smells heavenly between the cooking he’s been doing and the candles lit throughout. Your eyes dart to little details along the walls and shelves as he guides you to the dining room - also set perfectly with flowers and more candles.

It’s not at all what you expected.

At work, Jongho is relatively quiet but you learned after a few meetings that he was rather charming and engaging. He likes sports and cars - kind of a man’s man. When you became closer, you realized he was chock-full of sarcasm and dry humor. You appreciated him for his company and the laughter that he supplied more than anything and that still stands true but this is a different side of him you haven’t really mapped out.

Hardly noticing that your feet have stopped moving, you’re surprised when you hear Jongho chuckle from your right. “How did I do?”

He almost sounds unsure of himself until you turn to him with a warm smile. “It’s really nice, Jongho.”

Just the sound of his name from your lips makes the tips of his ear tingle. “The kids said flowers and candles were the way to go.”

Taking your seats at the table, you agree. “The kids seem to know too much about romancing for their age.”

Jongho gestures to your glass with the bottle of red in his hands and fills your glass when you nod. “It’s a little admirable though,” he mentions, eyes glancing up to yours, “They have such a pure and simple definition of love. Everything is still so beautiful in their eyes so all they know is a happily ever after and I wish it would stay that way for them.”

“Oh, you’re such a softie.”

Jongho pokes his tongue into his cheek and grins, using his fork to point toward your plate, “Shut up and try the food.”

Again, not something you imagined Jongho would be good at but the food is delicious and there isn’t a takeout box in sight. He mentions something about not getting too excited because he only knows how to make a handful of meals on rotation but it’s still impressive. He also keeps you laughing and entertained throughout the meal, even with the prickles of ‘holy cow, this is a real date’ floating around in your head. It all feels so natural.

“So, you clean up nice, your house is immaculate, you can cook, you’re good with kids…” You twirl you wine, bellies full and plates empty as you sit across from one another, “What are you hiding, Mr. Choi? Where is the catch?”

He grins, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “No, catch. I’m perfect.”

“The catch is that you’re an awful smartass,” you chuckle before draining the last of you drink. “I suppose I already knew that though.”

“I suppose you do,” he returns, gathering the dishes to deposit in the sink for later - for now, he moves you both into the living room to relax on the couch and continue the conversation. “I am genuinely a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy so I don’t know how much I’ll surprise you but ask the hard questions and I’ll answer them honestly. Anything you might want to know before we decide this is a good idea or just mutual attraction and peer pressure from ten-year-olds.”

Because you’re both adults, co-workers, and friends. It would be a waste to pursue a relationship you both want different things out of.

You purse your lips and think for a minute. “Dogs or cats?”

“Both,” he answers easily, “You?”

You tilt your chin in thought, “Both is good…I’m still in the ‘plant mom’ phase so I don’t have any pets but I’d like to. Any plans to relocate in the future?”

Jongho shrugs, “I’m not particularly attached one way or the other. The area here is pretty nice but there are lots of nice places.”

“You’re not overly picky, are you?”

He laughs. “No, not really. I’m pretty laid back.”

In the time you’ve known and worked with him, that tracks. You pivot in your seat, facing him a little more fully. “Oh, boy,” he jests, “Getting to the big stuff, huh?”

“Marriage…kids,” you state plainly, “Thoughts and feelings.”

Jongho rolls his shoulders. “I’m interested in both,” he says simply, though there is a tinge of hesitation like he’s waiting for your reaction, “My parents have been married for thirty years and are still very much in love so it’s probably given me a set of rose-colored glasses when it comes to long-term commitment but the idea of having ‘a person’...like “my person’ to share love and life with, to grow old together…that sounds good to me.”

You nod, chewing on his answer. “And kids? Singular? Plural?”

“Eight.”

You instinctively recoil. He’s playing with you, so you’ll play.

“Well, this has been great,” you pretend to stand up to leave, “See you Monday, frien-”

A funny little ‘oof!’ puffs from your lips when Jongho grabs your hand and pulls you back down onto the couch. It’s just a lucky coincidence you land much closer this time and when Jongho releases your hand, he keeps it close, almost hovering nearby like he’s aching to take it again.

“Yes, I would like kids and no, I don’t care how many. Even one is a blessing and I would be over the moon to be a dad,” his eyes twinkle and it kindles a little warmth in your chest, “You look all ooey-gooey right now. I think you like me.”

You give into the urge to swat him this time. Right in the chest.

Jongho loves it.

“I already like you,” you roll your eyes at yourself for admitting so out loud but it’s a bit obvious at this point and he’s teasing. “I’m not ready for all…that…just yet but I would agree we have enough in common to maybe…give this a try?”

You don’t mean for it to sound so unsure but you haven’t dated anyone in a while and this is your friend, your co-worker…this is kind of a big decision to pursue a relationship and you want to take it seriously.

Jongho squeezes your hand and doesn’t remove it this time.

“If you’re asking me to go steady, I’d gladly accept.”

You let yourself lean into him as you laugh. “Do you always have to give me a hard time? You’re so unserious!”

“That’s not even a word! Aren’t you a teacher?”

You push yourself back with a hand against his arm, “Unserious is totally a word! Aren’t you a teacher?!”

Dissolving into laughter, you wind up holding your hands over your belly to soothe the ache, heads dropped back against the couch. It takes several minutes to settle down, no thanks to Jongho and his smart mouth, but you’re having so much fun you don’t care that your stomach hurts or that your cheeks sting from smiling too much.

Spending time with him like this is something you want more of. 

Rolling your head toward him, you break open the fresh silence with a question.

“So, Jongho,” you manage, still a little breathy from laughing, “Would you like to go steady with me?”

He smiles and it’s gorgeous to behold. “Yes, I would.”

Both shoulders jump up to your ears as if the excitement you feel is trying to escape your body and you grin like a fool. 

A boyfriend. That’s fun.

“Don’t get mad,” Jongho chuckles, taking your hand back into his, now playing with your fingers comfortably, “I might have seen you dance all the way back to your desk after I asked you out today. You’re really cute.”

Like a vortex opening up and swallowing you whole, you crumble, shrinking into the couch. “You’re kidding...”

Jongho almost feels bad for sweeping your high away so quickly but he’s telling the truth. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen and shot his ego through the roof. “If it makes you feel better, I called an emergency meeting with my students. They helped me choose dinner and suggested the flowers and candles.”

“And the wine?” you raise a brow, coming back out of your shell.

Jongho uses his free hand to scratch the back of his head. “Called my mom.”

It’s quiet for only a moment and then you’re fawning all over him. “Awww!!! Who’s cute now? That’s so sweet!”

He pretends not to love all your attention. “Yeah, yeah…so, it’s a Friday night and we don’t have school tomorrow…”

“Mhm,” you grin, nodding along playfully.

Jongho lists options off as if he’s reading off a menu. “We can grab another glass of wine, or a beer, I have that too,” he winks, “and bullshit the night away. We could watch a movie or if you’re tired of my company I could just kiss you goodnight - I mean - walk you out.”

He’s smirking like he’s just so funny.

“You could kiss me now, grab me a beer, and then we could talk shit for a little while longer,” you suggest with equal teasing, and his brows shoot up.

Butterflies hardly have time to take flight in your belly before Jongho’s lips touch yours, though it’s not rushed at all. It’s an easy sort of confidence in his movements like he’s so comfortable kissing you - like it’s not the first time and most certainly won’t be the last.

One hand cradles your jaw and he’s still smirking when he pulls away because it was a good kiss and he knows it.

You know it. The universe knows it. 

“Beer, movie, and makeout?” he jokingly suggests and you’re hopelessly falling for every ridiculous, unserious word coming out of his mouth.

“You really are just a man’s man, aren’t you?”

Jongho shrugs and gets up to retrieve two cold beers from the fridge calling over his shoulder, “I’m not really into guys, but I could be your man!”

Letting out a sigh that fades into a breathy laugh, you smile to yourself. Yeah, he absolutely could be your man.

Series M.List | ATEEZ M.List | Main M.List

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms WITHOUT PERMISSION! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2021. ©️

[princess-pray-a]

warnings : mention of death of komugi oneshot , slightly alteration than real anime , intro of new character y/n , vaginal penetration, 1st time , creampie , breeding kink, unsafe sex, soft mereum, , kissing , breasts fondling m sucking breasts, mereum has 10inch cock , mate au, smut , 18+

Characters : Mereum X reader

minors donot interact

find my works here .

⚜️ THE KINGS MATE ⚜️

Komugis death broke mereum, his humanity that had sprouted out now seemed to eat him. Trying to finally understand his act of killing humans, almost causing genoside makes him step aside from her injured body trembling . The impact from the debris was Enough to rob of her life , and pitou was also unable to rescue no matter what she did . The king finally realized what he had done what loss he caused for the human kind and how his ideals were the cause of suffering . The lifeless body of komugi taught him his extreme ways had caused multiple others to feel the same anguish and torment he faced , what if they had more than one person they cared in the way he did for komugi the pain would have been much much terrible .

was he really the top of all when he couldn’t even understand that sentiment of people he wanted to rule over ? he should better understand their emotion , wouldn’t that be better for even himself !? Seeing Netero risk his life to prevent killing of many humans ,brought to his understanding that power existed to protect the once weaker than them . The human society was definitely warped but what he did was nothing a sort to be celebrated . An emotion bubbled within him , I will come back to rule only when I can truly stand to the the leader of this being . seeing the display of humanity by the king

Netero and Zeno felt compelled to hear him out , he surrendered claiming he was stupid enough to think that he could rule over human without even knowing how they operate , The pride in his words were evident though pouf tried to stop him , he continued “ I need to grasp what this humanity is better understand everyone starting from my guards and those around me before I set a conquest for a world , I don’t mean to rule over the mass full of corpses merely controlled by me , so I believe it will be a worthless fight no matter which party wins “. Nefero went ahead with the negotiations “fine whatever it is what do we get in return for simply going on your wimps !? Can you sure never to lay a hand on human life !? To consume human !?” Mereum was silent he felt conflicted , many emotions , ran through him one that was starving for the rare human and another imagining to witness another loss like komugi , but he made his decision quick ,” fine I won’t devour human , but for the bargain if your kind willingly pick up fight with my royal guard or me you will be devoured that instant.

The king and royal guards of chimera ant make their way out .now that the fight was , taking away the lifeless body of komugi and buried her .This was a path for the king to find and explore his humanity all before you met him . You are a hunter who just learned her nen and had ventured the mountain fei outskirts of pejing for finding a rare herb to make medicine as the medical hunter . You Who have been studying microbiology unknowingly endup infiltrating the base of these royal guards and the king. Your small stature shoulder length brown curly hair side swept and sparkly brown eyes made you look vulnerable yet precious. Luck wasn’t at your side hence you got capture by the royal guards then you were now presented before the king mereum

Many even today when presented front him trembled through pitou s en and aura . But you simply bowed them . Why are you here are you here to challenge me for duel !? . The king asked you who was pure of heart simply replied “ Oh no no sorry for intruding your place I simply came to look for yarshagumba . I am a medical hunter you see ! “The. King sensed a feeling of deja vu your figure reminded him of komugi that komugi who introduced him to humanity and feelings he at that moment he hadn’t realized but now it was clear it was love . “Take her to the guest chamber and treat her with utmost care” . The words from the king made royal guards reply immediately “ as your highness wishes”. The king who was almost dead inside finally showed the signs of life in pitou s eyes , though pouf felt he was returning back to his time with komugi but now as the situation and time had passed he realized a king without emotions would only command an army as a robot . For the spiritual well being of a king they needed her .

you smiled brightly at the king with the kindness and fondness that even komugi couldn’t deliver . She was blind she didn’t see the beastly form he had , but you you saw him yet you could smile soo sweetly at him with no malice in your heart . She was not a beauty but you were far more brighter than her , not in complexion but your light was beautiful, your heartbeat was a melody, your aura the most calming and nurturing, oh how could he forget you were a healer, a medical hunter , “ Thankyou soo much for your kindness I will make sure to repay it somehow,” you said clearly with innocent curiously. “ by the way what is your name he asked !?”. His eyes peered searching for komugi the same name that had left its print on his heart . But alas “ it’s Y/N .. and what about you ?” . The king that had been in a sea of thoughts came back he,, what had he expected , she was gone and you are a different person . You had asked beaming with excitement again . He blinked a few times and a smile to his lips “it’s Mereum, “ he was finally able to answer his name to someone , it gave him a sense of accomplishment. “ your name is mereum the light that rules over all that was what your mother wanted you to know “ the word of Netero. “ ahhh it’s such a beautiful name “. Your smile from ear to ear now thawing his heart , he felt something flutter he never had experience such emotions , what he had with komugi was excitement of game and wish to protect her but with you , he was having these different emotions .

he wanted to know more about you , what is your inner working ,how could you stand there smiling without fear in front of a creature as him , komugi was blind but you , you could see yet there was no hostility or wary ness. He chuckled to himself . “You may leave I will meet you tomorrow to know about yarchagumba or what you said “. “ hehe surely can’t wait” waving to him you are escorted by the royal guards .

Next day mereum couldn’t wait to venture out with you , what in the world had you seen to make you soo carefree , he was curious to step into your view your own ideas . “ good morning mereum shall we go ?” You ask him hopping and full of energy you were somewhat that was an energy ball in his gloomy life he was blinded by your light !” Yes let’s go “ matching steps with you he went to scout the area . “ together you explained him how rare is yarchagumba and how to pick it up , dancing and singing while dwelling in the mountain . You taught him how song heals the soul . The beauty of dance during festivals and falling in love with the nature . In spotting a River you pull him together “ look the water is soo fresh come let’s go and soak the feet into it your feet might hurt you have been walking barefoot “ he was being soo patient with you, not saying no to any request or ideas because all these moments he was in your world was so peaceful and beautiful. He imitates what you do after removing your socks and shoes . The content expression on your face as the cool water wash over your sore feet makes his gaze glued to you , the simple moment making his heart race , and when you hum a tune while enjoying the breeze and cool water , he feels like hearing the most magnificent tune better than the violin of pouf . You both decided to catch some fish way back . When you both arrive at the base l the royal guard they are perplexed seeing you return with fishes. You are beaming so mereum motions his guards to say nothing to you , and they take the hint.

“Can I use the kitchen to cook ? I really am good at it I will also make it for you pitou,Pouf and Yupi sama so we can dine together “. Your demand is met by a laugh “ haha you really don’t fear us do you ! “Pitou says “ well I am ok if his highness is ok with it” pouf added

me too “ youpi simply replied . “ sure but I will want to watch you while you work if it’s given then you can cook” mereum said .

“Hehe sure I would love to be with you I can teach you about various stuffs too “ you replied . In the kitchen you show your skills using the vast range of spices telling him about them and their benefits to mereum simply as he gazed you down with aw.. “ after you were done you had meal with all of them together , they definitely didn’t feel different in taste but the way you brought them together gave the whole dining experience a new light even to the royal guards. Hence your days at the kings base was a new experience for them too .you were a light that was shining in their highnesses life .

it had been weeks , you had definitely grown a lot familiar with Mereum and known his story , every moment he shared with you was precious to you , you had fallen in love with the villain but did he feel the same for you !? Or he still loved his first love . That thought stung you . You were clutching a sketch you made of him while he was sitting ,it wasn’t the best sketch but good enough to say it was him . As you peered down into the forest through the balcony you heard footsteps approaching , the love of your life was there standing infront of you , you wanted to take that step a step where you could be closer to him than any other but we’re afraid . “Hello how was your day “ you asked as the last r of sunrays exited the room . “ it was good , what are you doing here alone ?” “Oh it was this picture of your I had made it’s not that good but still ” you showed him your creation and he smiled softly at you “ it isn’t bad after all , I wanted to have some talk with you is it ok ?” He asked cautiously. It wasn’t like him to ask for you for your permission so you went to his room for whatever it is .

“ do you know what a purpose I hold !? My birth is for ?” , you nodded at his question “ isn’t it that you are supposed to mate with other female creature and make them queens ?” The question made you feel heavy weight in your heart lump of throat and you started aching all through your body . What is he gonna say what is he gonna do ? Is he going to find females to reproduce with , would I be able to watch it !?” An array of questions flooded through your mind until it was he is voice that brought you. Back “ what do you think of me !? As a mate !?” “ ah .. huh you are .. perplexed embarrassed confused and spellbound .. does he see you as a potential mate !? Or just one among many ? The first he wants to try with ! Your over thinking brain just couldn’t take it any more ! You were at your limit as you finally confess .” Ahh well , I I really like you , more than like I love you but I know you still love Komugi , I really wished you saw me as lover but if you want to mate me I .. I would really love it if you had feelings for me or atleast I knew what you had in your heart for me !” Well you went ahead and did it and now there was no going back .

thinking that maybe you would be replied with a negative feedback or even death you strengthen yourself but you are embraced in a warm hug . “ how fool are you , you are unaffected during our intense aura but are trembling when expressing your heart how can you be so weak and strong at the same time !” He is warmth giving you a sense of relief but also your heart is pounding madly this is the closest you have been with him. He breaks the embrace and cups your cheeks “ komugi might have been my first crush but , you are different , I love you and only you , you bought light to my life , she gave me humanity but you gave me a world of richer in humanity wonders peace and love . The tension in the air grew heavy as your gaze locked with eachother his eyes spoke volumes of the affection he carried for you , your own eyes watered at the sight slightly sobbing ‘“ ah . *Sniff *I ,, Thankyou thankyou soo much , I have *sniff *never been loved , Thankyou for loving me as me , I love you too “ . He wasted no time capturing your lips kissing it will lust and brimming love for you . You replied back in kind . As the nose brush against eachother you get more and more lost in your kisses seeking eachother out changing angles deepening it as much as possible pouring your love together ,his tongue enters your mouth devouring you completely .

after some time of making you both part for air a string of saliva attaching you together your body goes limp as he guides you to his bed. Your face flushed and needy, his face too had a little of that blush . His hands roamed around your body feeling through your clothes . His each and every strokes sending sparks to your body . “ ahh ngg “ a moan escaped your lips .It’s ok look at me I am here allow me to hear all those naughty sounds of you my love “ he said his voice a soft murmur . He rained kisses from your eyelids to your breasts taking off the shirt, he kissed you deeply again holding your waist allowing you to straddle him . You were feeling lightheaded all consumed your heart raced full speed almost ready to rip out . Your lover claiming you as his queen the thought itself setting your body a blaze . Unclasping your bra he freed your breasts . “ you are soo beautiful and you are mine “ assuring you on the way he sucked breast drawing circles over your nipples . The sensation making your womanhood throb your walls clench around empty already lusting you moaned out calling his name while his hands made a quick work to get rid of your skirt and underwear ,feeling insecure you quickly went to hide but he stopped you mid way . “No let me cherish your every part love, show me each and every part of you I want to love it all . “ on his encouraging words you let him touch the most intimate spot of yours your wetness coating his fingers as he rubbed and scissored your making your ready to take him . He flipped you over laying you down and spreading your legs wide for him you could see his huge cock that was hard and long about 10 inches god would it even fit ,you thought was it a bad decision to back out now ,every thought coursed your brain that you may die but again as supportive he has been with you he said “ it’s ok it will be fine I have modified ones that secret extra lube so you can accommodate me ! I am here with you ! Look into my eyes and give yourself to me” believing what he claimed you allowed him to slowly penetrate ,you god the stretch was painful but ain’t that much as you thought would be however a tear rolled from the corner of your eyes , he kissed it running hands over your hair smoothing it lovingly . “ that’s good girl ngg fuck.. you are soo tight and feel soo good “ he was fully in you and started moving slowly after you adjusted the pain changed to pleasure and now you were asking more, “ ngg an faster mereu.m mhggg ahh yes yes god it feels soo good ahhh.”. He was thrusting into you pounding your pussy with huge speed making sure not to break you , his cock almost kissing your wombs insides as his cock bulge was seen in your lower tummy .” I can’t wait to breed you for the next season love “ we are going to have many’s many breeding seasons together “ he kissed you while fondling your breasts , you soon reached your high as your walls clenched around him you too could feel his cock twitch as you alert him of your coming orgasm “ ngg yes yes I am gonna c..cummm ahhh mer..merum come here … “ you pull him closer for a kiss “yes fuck y/n I am near too your walls are milking me make sure to take the kings seed well I am cumming “ you both reach your high simultaneously and his cock paints your walls white filling your womb while you wash his cock with your juices .and the extra drips out of your pussy He stays inside until every last drop of cum is released in you . Finally bringing a blanket to cover your bodies as you collapse from exhaustion . Smiling to you while kissing your forehead holding you in his embrace “ get rest we will start in an hour again well I won’t tell you for now but i will wake.you up love “

pouf enters to give some report to the king but sensing the lust he retreats mid way with a smile to himself his king has started the mating and now it was clear to not disturb them for two days conveying it to the other royal guards . well finally the king has found his mate but unlike other of his kind he faithfully lives with his queen until death takes them together as they die of old age in eachothers embrace. THE END .

WANT MORE CONTENT??

CHECK HERE

[factual-fantasy]

25 asks! :00 Thank you! :}} 💖

I would like to yeah :0 for now I'm just kind'a goofin around and drawing whatever. Also thank you!! :DD I'm glad you like it! :}}}

I don't think kid Gregory and Vanessa would realize that the other is a younger version of the guard that's pursuing them.. They would just think they have the same name.

What would be confusing though is who went into who's world. If Little Vanessa went to little Gregory's world, she would be so confused. "Where's Bonnie and Foxy? Why do Roxy and Monty look so different..? Why does the entire BUILDING look different..??"

For adult Gregory going into the kid Gregory's world.. it'd be the same thing. "Why is the building so different and where is Bonnie and Foxy?... Also why is there this random gal that has on a security uniform and why is she in my office-"

Thank you! Happy new year to you as well!! 🎉🥳🎊

YOOOO THAT'D BE SICK!! :DDD Also I love all the puns XDD

Yeah, that post is outdated and should not be followed. My pinned post has all the up to date information. 👍

(Also thank you! :D)

That's a thing?? Man. I'm not sure what to think. I was never super into Bendy.. I guess I just hope that the fans get what they're hoping for? <:D

Or at the very least I hope that the people who made Bendy have the freedom to put what ever they want into the movie. :}

Thank you so much! :DD As for my favorite character from my AU specifically? I'd say its a tough pick between Freddy and Foxy.. I thiiiiink I'll pick Freddy XD I just love him man 🥺

@skeletormasterofevil

N-No.. she was so young...💔

@underfalls-36

XDDD That's hilarious, also thANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

Calico Jack? I don't think so.. scurvy is caused by a severe vitamin-C deficiency. And sailors usually got it becuase they didn't have fruits and vegetables on the ship.. But it looks like Calico Jack has gotten shipwrecked quite a few times in his life. I imagine he's been stranded on islands for a few weeks at a time where he ate nothing but fruits, Veggies and fish. Not to mention his time in the Amazon where he likely had access to all kinds of fruits.

Natquik though? Its possible.. out in the Antarctic his diet was probably mostly fish.. although it seems that real arctic fox diets don't really demand many fruits and veggies.. Still, Natquik seems more likely to have contracted scurvy at one point then Calico Jack :(

:DDD THANK YOU! And boy do I have a lot of that XD

I do have many theories/headcannons yes!.. Although I think I'll keep those tucked away in my brain for now- :x

@citrusfruitman

(Post in question)

XDD I sat on the first ask for a while because I was intending to draw something for it. But I'm realizing now that I might not ever draw it so--

What was going on in that drawing is an evil Undyne threw a spear at the group while they were passing by. Seam was struck in the head by it and was killed.. hence the blood splatter on her face. (My darkeners bleed)

BUT ITS OKAY! Through some uh... very dark methods- Frisk was able to reset to a few moments before and pull Seam out of the way. Then she got into a brawl with the evil Undyne no doubt <XD

I have, and uh, I'm not so sure about the whole "in character" thing.. or at least its not the character I imagined Fazbear Entertainment would be- <XD

It just means they're both rough and tough and their hands get beat up a lot. Kwazii gets them beat from scraping them on stuff and dealing with dangerous creatures while on missions. And Calico Jack gets them from scraping them on stuff and.. dealing with dangerous creatures while on adventures XDD

@spinelfan11

XDD I have now! What an odd specimen..

(Also thank you! :DDD)

@milk-powrit

Its hard to explain exactly why I don't like them.. But I don't like them-

I guess it feels kind'a.. mary sue-ish..? If that makes sense? Or at least having all these sans' that act nothing like the original sans is kind'a off putting? I guess? Not to mention loads of them are shipped together- uhg idk- Its hard to explain but I don't vibe with them personally. So I didn't add them to my au :/

@abaroo

OOOO THAT'S A GOOD IDEA!! :000 I like how it creates a spin on Grillby and River. While Jevil intentionally grabbed Grillby's hand and saved him, and River was dragged along by mistake.. Frisk CHOSE to follow Jevil, it wasn't his doing at all this time. That's a really cool thing to experiment with!

I'll have to look into this idea, thank you for sharing! And thank you for the complements! AND happy new year to you too! XDD

@the-great-bonkings

XDD For receiving hugs? I'd say he's about a 11/10 sometimes, maybe a 6/10 other times. Its harder to hug him comfortably if you're significantly shorter/smaller than he is. But if ur the right size his hugs will just fix all your problems 🥺

As for giving hugs? It might be about the same. But I can see him giving them out only to people he's really close to. Otherwise a tender yet professional hand on the shoulder seems more his style.

XD And I see the prompt there, perhaps I'll have to draw that sometime!

@tanileaf

YOU LIKE? :DDD THANK YOU! I'M SO GLAD!

Aww shucks 😊 Thank you!

@khoiazo

Whaaaat?? Nooo Its not traumaaa,,🥺 its character development!😇

TRUEEEEE

I do! I'll have to post more about them sometime-- 👀👀

@cudlycorncornsworthcoberson

WAAAA THANK YIOU SO MUCH!!! IM SO GLAD YOUY LIKE MY OCTONAUTS SILLIES 💖💖😭💖

[penguin--rat]

cardiomyocytes and connective tissue @nopanamaman

I’ve wanted to do a fic like this for some time now, a ‘thank you’ letter to PAFL and its community of sorts. I’m happy I finally got around to writing it:) 

I wasn’t sure whether I should do this or not, but, hey! It might make someone feel a bit better!! Or, reading the fic will. That’s enough reason, I think, and you don’t have to read this, of course, no matter who you are.

First of all, I want to talk about PAFL a bit.

The first PAFL song I listened to was PiP. I saw its thumbnail when listening to some other music youtube, and so, I listened to it. Oh boy am I glad I did:) I remember thinking how cool it is that someone's making songs for their OCs and that people are interested in them. I could see so much love for the characters in it. I was so happy when I discovered there were more songs like that!! This was around when Comfort Zone had first come out, a week or two after at most. That was two years ago. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I love PAFL. I genuinely love that songs haven’t been coming out much lately. Like, there’s media that comes out weekly and sucks shit. I’m glad Ferry is taking their time with this!!! Even if all we get each year is one song, that’s cool, because the community is wonderful and we also get doodles and art and now patreon stuff.. yippee yay… !!! And even if we didn’t. who the fuck caressss!!!!! I love coming up with AUs and OCs and theorizing with my friends!!! the time between songs gives us time to do all that:)

The characters are so charming. Every member of the cast has been a fave of mine at some point or another. They’re all so, real! I love them! I love how they fuck up and I love how they get fucked over and I love how they get exploded and killed and shot and hugged and saved and helped!!! They’re human… might not make sense, but i rlly do like them…

It’s so neat looking back at older songs and seeing how stuff’s changed. The art style, the music, it’s all so nice to look back on. Even if I wasn’t there for it.

And don’t even get me started on the worldbuilding..  Everyone say thank you to Boris Strugackij and Arkadij Strugackij for making roadside picnic and inspiring Ferry to make this… so lovely and neat. wonderful. I have not read it myself, but I might, just to be able to make my own pafl OCs more swagger..

So. This fic.

I can’t mention two years ago without at least mentioning my depression.

I can’t remember most of last year, speaking truthfully. Parts of 2021 are also fuzzy. Depression and anxiety are terrible, would not recommend. This feels cheesy to say, but it does get better!!! Slowly, unsteadily, it gets better!!! I don’t mean for this part of the post to be a ‘feel bad for me’ thing at all. Do not. I am safe and healthy now and I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.

Is life good now?? Sorta, but what matters to me right now is, I’m happy!!! It feels so surreal. I never thought I’d be like this. A part of me wants to be angry, to get depressed again about how I could have been happy all this time. But I won’t!!! Because then I’d spiral and forget another year, and, I don’t want that!

Which is so cool!!! I can like, fucking, do stuff now!! I can throw away the bad thoughts, embrace the good ones, encourage myself!!! I do things!!! I go outside and goddd dude that’s so good!! I go outside!!!

I’m doing stuff! I’m drawing, writing, cleaning my room, taking care of myself!!! If I didn’t stay alive to enjoy these small joys, what am I even here for?? 

And I’m alive!!! I’m here!!! I made it, I’m here, writing this on 10th november, 2023, and I’m ALIVE!!!! How cool is that??? 

And yea, the world is shitty, it sucks ass, but, my friends don’t!!!:3 and that’s more than enough for me… SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS!!! I LOVE YOU DUDES!!!

Moving on:

It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m here now only to PAFL. But, what I can say is that it’s been a wonderful crutch for me!! It’s been something to focus on, something silly, but also something I can relate to, and something that inspires me to make my own stuff! I’d most likely still be here, were it not for these silly songs.. but, not sure I’d be as alive as I am now! Unsure if my heart would feel right in my chest! And I wouldn’t have met my amazing friends!!!! Everyone here is so nice.

Dima may be a bit OOC in this fic, and that's because! This fic is based on my own experiences, which, i don’t think is bad…

I could talk here forever about how it gets better. Butttt to be quite honest I don’t wanna lol. I just wanna say, Thank you! to Parties are for Losers, for being cool. 

(Though I also wanna say, don’t put Ferry on a pedestal, they’re human, we all make mistakes, all that stuff.)

Ok time to go back to my manly Sergei ways and never talk about emotions ever again. or as anya would say: FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!

[scorpionrising]

there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here

notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose

before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:

daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...

edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it

Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.

“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.

“What was?” Daena asked. 

“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”

“What did they know?” 

“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.” 

There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace. 

“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair. 

“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.” 

Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke. 

“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.” 

Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her. 

“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”

“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.” 

“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.” 

Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty. 

When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones. 

“What are you reading?” she asked him.

He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.” 

“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.” 

He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality. 

“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames. 

“And whose fault is that?” he retorted. 

She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw. 

“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.

“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth. 

“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.” 

“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”

“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.” 

She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul. 

“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?” 

“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”

She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”

“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.” 

“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?” 

“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”

“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.  

He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now. 

“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.” 

He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human. 

“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?” 

“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”

“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”

“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said. 

She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last. 

“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”

When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up. 

“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.” 

He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”

With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back. 

“Just come up here.”

Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now. 

“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”

“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”

She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully. 

“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted. 

“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak. 

It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more. 

Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.

Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.  

Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it. 

“We have to bury her,” she insisted. 

“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?” 

“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”

“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.” 

And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left. 

When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move. 

“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”

“Yes,” he said.

Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned. 

“Why did you never write back?”

“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her. 

“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.” 

He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.” 

It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep. 

“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.” 

“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”

“It matters not,” he said. 

“Of course it matters,” she said.

A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important. 

“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?” 

“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?” 

“It serves as a reminder.” 

“What could it possibly remind you of?”

He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.” 

“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him. 

“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.” 

Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm. 

“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him. 

Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean. 

She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes. 

“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid. 

Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door. 

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected. 

“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.” 

He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing. 

Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity. 

“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?” 

“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts. 

“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here. 

She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not. 

Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush. 

“How?” he asked. 

His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere. 

“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.” 

Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.  

“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”

She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late. 

Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly. 

Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.  

Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.

“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.

His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her. 

“What makes you believe you could never have me?” 

He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.” 

She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe. 

“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.” 

Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow. 

His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close. 

“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed. 

“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled. 

“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered. 

“And what am I, my lady?” 

“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.” 

She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair. 

However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.

“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin. 

“Do you want me, Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?” 

He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened. 

“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”

Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly. 

“Get on your knees, then,” she said.

Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to. 

“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.” 

He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat. 

“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!” 

Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him. 

His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted. 

She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her. 

Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs. 

Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight. 

“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—” 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face. 

Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions. 

Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs. 

“Seven… hells,” he grunted.  

She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack. 

“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free. 

She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms. 

Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room. 

Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion. 

A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more. 

Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again. 

A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his. 

They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care. 

She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted. 

But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?

She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change. 

He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse. 

She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat. 

They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.

It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”

Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction. 

“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”

At that, a flush crept up his cheeks. 

“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.” 

“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.” 

She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one. 

“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.” 

Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly. 

“I’m quite fine.”

“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.” 

She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there. 

“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”

“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.” 

“Daena, you cannot—”

“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.” 

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her. 

“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on. 

“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.” 

“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?” 

“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.” 

He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room. 

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap. 

They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him. 

“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.” 

“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”

Oh. 

“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.” 

“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…” 

She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers? 

“We can just be… what, Aemond?” 

“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.” 

A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.  

“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted. 

Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck. 

There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches.  They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close. 

They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he. 

But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him. 

“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows. 

She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response. 

Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life. 

“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were. 

Daena stilled beneath him. “What?” 

“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.” 

For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before. 

When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor. 

His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward. 

“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout. 

He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him. 

“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.

He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.

Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled. 

“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.

Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face. 

“Vermithor is healed,” she said. 

“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.” 

Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.  

“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.

She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.” 

He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?” 

That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days. 

“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek. 

It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue. 

She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice. 

“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.” 

“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?” 

It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him. 

“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.” 

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of. 

“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.” 

Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster. 

“I did not take your eye.”

He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke. 

“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.” 

Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again. 

“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.” 

She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself. 

“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.

“I will,” he confirmed. 

Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.

“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.” 

They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him. 

That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena. 

There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed. 

“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone. 

Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies. 

Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 9 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, oral, fingering, edging, overstimulated reader, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.8K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 9! The relationship between Elvis and reader is getting more complex by the day! We get to discover more about younger vampire!Elvis and his rendezvous. And getting to see how desperate he gets for reader...

I had to include events that happened in Germany at the Moulin Rouge because that story never fails to giggle like a little school girl🤭 If you're not familiar with that story, please look it up and divulge. For me, it made sense to include it because of how bad real-life Elvis and vampire!Elvis would be in that situation.

This is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

You didn’t sleep all night and the fact there was a vampire under the same roof as you wasn’t helping. You tossed and turned all night but you knew he was listening, seeing if you were awake. The clock on the wall read eight o’clock in the morning and you grew angry. Angry your life wasn’t the same and you knew it wouldn’t go back to normal either. You couldn’t ignore Elvis and running away wasn’t going to solve your problems. 

You hear the front door open then slam closed and your curiosity gets the best of you. You decide to quietly open your door and peek your head out of the room and see what’s going on. The smell of breakfast food fills your nose and your tummy rumbles. 

“Please come out here darlin’,” Elvis beckons. 

You wince, you should have known better he’d hear your door open. You take a deep breath and smooth your hair down, ready to see what kind of Elvis you were going to face. A moody, brooding man or one that is patient and caring. 

You round the corner into the living room and see him sitting on the sofa, already dressed for the day. He's in his signature all-black with a suit jacket on and no shirt underneath. Damn him and his good looks. Maybe this would be easier if he wasn’t so gorgeous. You look around and carts of food with every breakfast food you could imagine was in here. Pancakes topped with sliced strawberries and crispy bacon. Omelets and waffles with glasses of orange juice and coffee. 

You look at him and don’t go to sit down right away, you’re so unsure of what to even do right now. 

He clears his throat and stands up awkwardly, “I uhh, didn’t know what you liked for breakfast so I ordered one of everything,” he says sheepishly. 

While it was a nice gesture, you were still upset with him. He hid a part of himself from you that could put you in real danger. It was going to take time to be okay with all of this. You had to grasp that you lived in a Supernatural world and you were out in the snack middle of it. 

“I’m not really hungry,” you grumble. He lets out a short sigh and looks at you patiently. 

“I know that’s a lie. Please, you need to eat,” he advises. 

You huff, feeling your tummy grumble again. You slowly make your way to one of the carts with food, never leaving eye contact with Elvis. The trust you once thought you had for him is very muddled and you’re not sure of how easily you can just act normal around him. 

Unrolling the napkin with utensils, you cut into the stack of pancakes and they taste decadent and fluffy. You take another bite and even though you’re used to his eyes on you, the information he spewed last night makes you feel anxious. 

“For the love of God can you let me eat in peace without staring at me like I’m some animal,” you snap at him. 

He doesn’t falter his gaze and looks at you amused. 

“I’m just making sure you’re taking care of yourself,” he says. 

You scoff, “I’ve been taking care of myself fine before you showed up so don’t worry about me,” you grumble.

A silence falls between you two as you continue to eat. He steps closer to you and you jump. He quickly stops in his tracks as he sees the slightest movement he makes is going to scare you for the time being. He puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Baby, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says with sorrow. 

“How the fuck do you expect me to believe that?! Not after everything you told me last night!” You bark. 

His face washed over with hurt then, it begins to furrow in anger 

“Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do! You wanted the truth, so I gave it to you. No matter how ugly it was!” He says frustrated, stepping closer to you. 

“Do you think it was easy for me to tell you all of that? Do you think I liked watching your face turn into disgust when I explained what I wanted to do to you? I felt like like the most repulsive monster and a pervert admitting the things I did and thought of. None of this is easy for me y/n.” He says darkly, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand to his chest.

His cool body temperature flowed through you and he places his other hand on your lower back. His eyes get softer, controlling the mood of the room as always.  

“I know I’m not good. I know that. But I am trying. I won’t lie to you anymore it hurts me just as much as it hurts you.” He confesses. You wiggle out of his grasp and sit down, trying not to give into his ways. 

You lose all appetite as you listen to him admit all of this. Your heart aches for him and you try to see where he’s coming from but it’s hard. This was all so new and being able to cope with something like the fact a supernatural being is real, was going to take some time to understand. 

“I get it,” you squeak out weakly, not wanting him to get angry with you. “But I have more questions,” you say quietly. 

“What else could you possibly-,” he says barking at you before you cut him off. 

“If you’re bothered by the fact that all of this is new to me, forget it,” you snap. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and brings his hand to his forehead, breathing deeply before speaking. 

“I’m sorry, what did you want to ask?” He says calmly. 

“Okay well… where do I begin? How long have you… been like this?” You prod. 

He sighs and slowly sits back down on the couch, trying not to scare you. 

“Germany, 1959. It was brutally cold that winter and I just about froze to death. I caught an upper respiratory infection and none of the medicine was working. I could barely breathe. I remember how much I struggled and I couldn’t sleep. I got worse every day to the point the doctors were going to give up on me.”

You don’t remember very much of his army days and this story comes to you as a complete shock. The pictures you had seen of him in uniform were happy and lively not this time of struggle. 

“That’s when one of the captains came to visit me late one night in the infirmary. God, he was always so mean and nasty to everyone I didn’t understand what he was doing there. I was delirious and could barely focus on his face. He asked me what I feared and I told him I was afraid of dying and that everyone would forget about me. That’s when I saw his eyes turn red. I thought I was hallucinating but I now know I wasn’t.” He continued. 

“He told me there could be a way he might be able to fix that. He said I’d have to change, but I’d be loved by everyone always and that I’d make it out alive from Germany. I was desperate and I’d do anything so I asked him what I had to do. He said he would bite me and I would in return need to bite him too. None of it made sense to me but I was desperate. I wanted to live and be loved by millions again. So I let him,” he admits. 

You sit there in shock and your heart feels bad for him. He was so young and made a huge decision on the brink of death. 

“I’m… god I’m so sorry, that’s awful,” you say, sorrow filling your voice. “What did it feel like?” 

“The bite? Oh God, it was the most excruciating thing I had ever experienced. Our fangs are so sharp and cut into you like a knife and once the venom spread...It felt like wildfire in every inch of my body. It was brutal,” he explains. 

You stare wide-eyed at him telling you all this, “Venom?” You ask concerned. 

“Yeah… there comes a point when we feed that makes us produce a venom. You have to feed on a person for a bit of time before it gets released from our fangs but for a human, it hurts like hell and that’s what starts the change. When I was turned, I was already so weak from being sick but the bite he took out of me nearly killed me. It was too much. He had to help me bite his wrist to complete the process.”

“I’ve never heard of something like this, it’s not like the normal vampires you hear about in stories,” you say sheepishly. 

He chuckles amused by your observations, “That’s because most of those stories are just that, stories. Only a few people know the truth.”

That sends a shiver down your spine. Now you were a part of those few people that knew vampires were real and Elvis Presley was part of that group. That he got taken advantage of in his weakest moments and his life would never be the same. 

“Then what happened? What did you feel like when you first changed?” You ask. 

He hums softly to himself and smirks, “Absolutely ravenous. I didn’t see the captain after he bit me so he literally left me on my own to figure all this out. I woke up and never saw the world in such perfect clarity. I could see people a mile away with crystal-clear vision and the rest of my senses heightened to an exponential level. But I’ve never been so hungry before in my life. I thought it was because I was so sick and hadn’t been eating, but as I started to eat any food I could find, that’s when I realized it wasn’t food I craved. It was blood. I heard people’s hearts beat and I was drawn to it and knew that’s what I needed. I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time and saw a monster looking back at me.”

“That’s when it truly hit me. I practically sold my soul to the devil and will always be this. A starved, lonely creature that’s frozen in time. Sucking the blood from innocent people to try to survive. Destined to be damned.” He says defeated. 

“Oh, Elvis. That’s awful, having to figure all of that out on your own… I couldn’t imagine. But you- you’ve changed. What do you mean you’re frozen in time?” You ask confused, remembering pictures of how he changed from 1960 to 1969 and even now with how he looks sitting in front of you. 

“I didn’t figure it out til a couple of years later but I learned how to alter my appearance. Vampires can morph into slightly different versions of themselves. Make myself have more hair or something, anything to make myself more alluring to get more people close to me. But underneath all of this is a facade, I’m still twenty-four. Just stuck like that.” 

“That’s just… God that’s so freaky. Nothing is real,” you say. “Could you change to your twenty-four-year-old self if you wanted to?”

“Oh, you want a younger man in your life now hmm?” He teases you.

“That’s not what I mean-,” you say embarrassed.

He chuckles, liking how flushed you can get, “I’m just messing with you, I like to get you all riled up,” he quips.

“Yeah I’m aware you like to get my heart pounding,” you joke but quickly wish you could take it back. The room feels like it stopped as you mention something as tempting as your heart to a starving vampire. He looks away from you and smiles to himself and looks back at you with eagerness.

“Hmm, yes, I do love to do that. Like right now. That beautiful sound never fails to get me excited,” he says bluntly. You feel your cheeks redden and can’t look at him. You try to calm yourself down but fail and just makes your heart race more.

“But to answer your question, yes. I can make myself look like I’m twenty-four again if that’s what you want,” he says slyly. 

“Mmm…And you’ve been… feeding on humans ever since you were bit?” You ask uneasy, knowing how badly he is starved for your blood. 

“Hmm, yes. That’s the only thing we can eat to keep us strong. The first time I tasted blood, that’s when I knew I was going to have a control issue. I was on a fourteen-day leave from the army and a few of us went to Munich and then Paris. We went to the Moulin Rouge and I stole the chorus girls and brought them up to my room at the hotel we were staying at. One by one, I tasted blood for the first time. I was so in love with it. I wanted more and more and couldn’t get enough.”

“They were scared of me though when they saw what I was doing to their friends. I started to panic and frustratedly told them I wished they could forget I bit them and forgive me. And one by one, they did. I couldn’t believe it was a power I possessed. The way it was so easy to compel people to do things I wanted. The bites on their neck healed in a matter of minutes as long as I never put any venom into their bloodstream. I truly felt so powerful and unstoppable. I’d rather not tell you the other unspeakable things I did in that hotel room…” he trails off embarrassed. 

Your cheeks burn red in embarrassment too, not wanting to think too much in detail of what he did to those girls. But another question on that topic pops into your head and you’re hesitant to even ask it. 

“But you told me that you didn’t like to have sex once you were changed?” You ask flushed. 

He smirks at you, “Well I was twenty-four still and had a twenty-four-year-old mind with a brand new body. And uh, when I figured out I never got tired, well, of course I was screwing anything that would come my way,” he looks at you deviously. Your brain registers what he just said and you feel your cheeks blush even more than they already are. 

“You never get tired… from any activity?” You stutter. 

He hums amused, “Nope. Nothing does. Especially not from that,” he emphasizes, knowing what you’re insinuating. 

You have to look away from him, he’s too intense and feel him draw you into his magnetic gaze. 

“Oh…” you say.

“Mhmm, I’m sure you’d hate me keeping you up all night,” he insinuates. You feel like you could pass out from the tension he creates and hate that he has such a hold on you by the slightest thing he says.

He watches how you squirm at the thought of him doing the dirtiest things to you all night long and lets a comfortable silence pass before he starts to explain more to you. 

“As I got older, well not in the traditional sense but you know what I mean, I just was more focused on feeding. So I made intimacy a more self-indulgent experience where I just fed. When I first came here to Vegas in 1969, that year I uhh, went overboard on feeding and on sexual things,” he pauses chuckling to himself. 

“Mhmm, I see… You looked… ugh, you looked so damn good that year. I remember when you came here when the hotel was first opened. Everyone wanted a piece of ya,” you say cheekily.

“Everyone? Including yourself?” He teases.

Your cheeks continue to redden, hating how he can get you so flustered.

“Elvis please,” you chastise. You look up into his pleading eyes and you instantly regret it.

“Did you want me? Even back then?” He pushes.

You sigh, knowing that lying wasn’t an option when it came to him. “Yes. I wanted you even back then. What a crime,” you say sarcastically.

He laughs and smugly smiles at you.

“How unlucky of me to not meet you sooner and have gotten to… enjoy you longer,” he teases. “But maybe it wasn’t the best time to meet me. I was still figuring out who I was. Both in my career as an entertainer and as a vampire.”

“There’s a lot of vampires here so I got to learn more information about us. I got lore books and learned about the history of us. The captain that changed me, he’s here in Vegas running some club down the road. Weird how small the world is hmm? I’ve been shown how to stay inconspicuous and how to control myself around humans. These last few years, I’ve tried to make a change. Not be so overindulging in feeding or anything else… I was doing so well, til you showed up.”

He looks back up at you longingly. “And you’re the first human I’ve truly wanted to be intimate with in years. With you, it’s all so different. I can’t even begin to describe it. You make me feel so starved like I had just been bitten all over again when you walked through that door,” he grumbles. 

You don’t know what to say. What do you say to a vampire that craves you not only for your blood but for your body too? 

You nervously play with your shirt’s hem and look down, “I probably only understand an ounce of how you feel towards me but the way I want you scares me. I never thought I’d cheat and keep wanting to have you. It’s like a bad habit I can’t control,” you admit. 

You run your head in your hands and sigh, feeling tears start to form. He looks at you with empathy, wanting to somehow comfort you but restrains himself. 

He slowly gets up, walking carefully to you. 

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you hurt. It kills me. Tell me what I can do to make this better,” he pleads. 

You have no words. There’s not one thing he can do. 

Don’t get drafted into the army and get sick then get bitten by a vampire turning your life and mine into a complete mess, you think. 

“There’s nothing you can do Elvis. I just need time.” You admit. 

You wipe away the tears that have fallen and look back up at him, “do you ever miss being human?” You ask gently.

He contemplates for a moment and stays silent. “For a bit, yes. But maybe I was just born to be this for all of eternity.”

Everything in you wants to reach out and comfort him, but you’re unsure what restraint he has right now and don’t want to push it. 

“Why don’t you lay down. You didn’t sleep all night,” he says softly. 

You sigh frustratedly, knowing he’s right. You push past him and don’t say anything else, the hurt in his eyes radiates into your heart and makes it hurt. 

“Baby?” He quickly calls to you. You don’t turn around but stop at the doorway to the guest bedroom. 

“Hmm?”

“Please leave the door open, just so I know you’re okay,” he asks. 

You don’t want to say anything to that. You know he’ll check on you anyway and you enter the bedroom, leaving the door slightly cracked. 

*

The blanket of sleep comforted you the second your head hit the pillow. The next time you see the clock it’s eight in the evening. You stretched your limbs and let out a sigh. You did feel more rested and you can try to think about this whole situation more clearly. Making your way to the living room again, you thought Elvis would be on stage but he’s sitting at the piano, turning around once he hears you enter the room. 

“Hi baby, how did you sleep?” He says smoothly.

“Fine. Don’t you have a show tonight?” You ask slightly annoyed.

“Yes, but I canceled it. I was too worried about you.”

“I’m fine. And it’s not like I could go anywhere with the doorknob broken,” you grumble. 

“I had someone up here to fix it. You’re not stuck here if you don’t want to be. I’m sorry I broke it that was very dramatic of me,” he chuckles. 

You glance back to the door where a shiny new gold door knob is sitting. 

“What did you tell them about how it became broken?” You prod.

“I told them it fell off and they didn’t ask any questions,” he confesses amused. 

You still want to be by yourself and try not to be stuck in the same room as him for too long. You think a shower could help calm you and clear your head.

“Do you mind if I take a shower? I need to freshen up,” you say. 

“Sure honey, you can use my shower,” he says. 

You nod your head and make your way to his bedroom. You don’t think you can get over how lavish a lifestyle he lives. The amount of gold there is in this suite is astonishing. You close the door behind you and push the shower curtain aside to start the faucet. You wait for the hot water to come and take your clothes off.

The hot water rains down on your body and you sigh in contentment. You took your time in there, clearing your thoughts and trying to figure out what to do next. None of this was going to be easy. If you stayed with Elvis, he would have to learn a certain amount of control that you’re not sure he has. And if you left... you were almost certain Elvis would come and find you. The way he talked about needing you in the way he does is very intense. You understood he wasn’t human anymore and his needs and emotions were very different from a regular man’s. So many questions were spiraling out of control in your head and you knew you needed to slow down and take all this new information little by little. You decided to just stay just one more night here then figure out how you were going to get another place to stay and how to get your stuff from Daniel’s apartment.

You turn the shower off and reach for a towel, patting yourself dry before stepping out. Picking up the clothes you discarded, you see the blood spatter left on them from the night before. A flash image of Elvis’ fangs and blood-red eyes pop in your mind and you wince to get it away.

You wrap the towel around your body and reach for the doorknob. As you had thought, Elvis was waiting for you in his bedroom, his eyes attentive to your arrival. 

“I umm… Can I borrow some clothes, mine are a bit messy…” you say, not looking into his intense eyes.

He stands up quickly, “Oh, yes, of course,” he says going to his dresser, sifting through the drawers.

He finally turns around with a pair of his silk pajamas and hands them to you.

“Hope these will do,” he says softly.

You nod your head and go back into the bathroom and close the door. You button up the silky shirt and giggle to yourself as you look at your reflection in the mirror. The shirt looks like a nightgown on you and there no point in putting on the pants if they’re were going to be ridiculously long.

You open the bathroom door again and walk out to see Elvis, his eyes drinking you in as he watches you come out in his pajamas and nothing else underneath. You hold out the pants to him and slowly make your way closer to him.

“Thank you. These were going to be a bit too big on me,” you say cheekily. He smiles at you and reaches to grab them from you, your fingertips brushing.

You can’t help but take a sharp breath when you feel his skin on yours. The rush of electricity burning through you and makes you want more. He can tell you are nervous about making contact with him. You don’t know what to say to him and this lurking awkward feel in the room makes you want to leave. You take one step away from him and he stops you.

“Baby, wait. Please don’t go yet. Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you trust me again,” he pleads.

“Elvis, it’s not that simple-,” you huff.

Elvis drops to his knees in front of you, tears welling in his eyes.

“Please, I want you to trust me again. I want to reach out and touch you and not have you recoil in horror from me,” he begs, wrapping his arms around your waist, his forehead pressed against your stomach.

You can’t help but gasp feeling him on you again, his face so close to your body again with nothing else underneath this top.

Your hand finds his hair and pulls at it, making him look up at you.

“I know. I know you’re trying to be better,” you mumble.

“Yes baby I’m trying, I’m trying to be better for you. I want you. I want you here with me,” he begs, placing his head back on your stomach, and holding you tight.

You can feel yourself giving in. You rub your fingers through his hair again and he lets out a pleased sigh. You want to believe he can be good and have some control. He continues to hold you, scrunching up the material of the pajamas in his hands the more desperate he gets. 

“Please, please I need you. Don’t hate me,” he pleads, placing a kiss on your stomach. You inadvertently pull his hair tighter when he does this, the heat from his mouth leaving a stinging sensation on you.

"I don't hate you," you sigh.

He places another kiss, putting more pressure there.

A deep growl forms in his chest as he feels your response from him. He continues to give you long kisses, squeezing your hips ever so slightly. You feel yourself melting into his kisses, wanting nothing more than for him to take care of you. 

He pauses briefly to look up at you through lustful eyes and long fanning eyelashes. 

“Please, forgive me. Let me love you.” He professes, his calloused hands rubbing up your bare thighs. 

You feel your heart pound away in your chest, feeling his hands consume your flesh. 

Let him, let him please you.

“Honey, I-I shouldn’t,” you say weakly. 

“Please darlin’, I want you so much,” he places a soft kiss on your hip. “Please let me touch you,” he groans, his fingertips continuing to drive you crazy. Your breathing quickens the more he touches you and an airy moan slips from your mouth the longer he touches you.

His fingertips creep to the front of your body and slowly unbutton your pajamas. The cool air hits your body and gives you goosebumps all over. He pulls open the top and exposes your breasts to him, your nipples hardened by the cold air and the tense situation. He drunkenly looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He carefully glides his hands up your torso to touch your breasts, giving them a slight squeeze. He sighs, looking up at your face of how much you like his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So perfect, look at yourself,” he mumbles. His fingers play with your nipples, rolling them and pinching them, giving you the most delicious sensation throughout your body. You keep your moans as quiet as you can, trying to keep your composure. 

His hands then trail down your torso, peppering kisses there before pulling away. He sits back on his heels, giving your trembling body a good look over. His eyes get drawn to your pussy, looking like he’s starved for you. With one hand on your hip still, he takes his other hand and drags it over your mound. His thumb easily finds your clit and he runs it through your folds slowly, discovering how wet you already are. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so needy. I love it.” He says, biting his lip when he looks back up at you. 

This makes you breathless. It had only been a few days but you were starved for him too. His thumb focuses on your clit and your vision blurs. It feels so good to have his hands on you again and make you feel like you’re on cloud nine. 

He places more kisses on your stomach and down your thighs as he continues to touch you, making you wetter by the second for him. He suddenly lifts one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder. 

“I need a better look at ya honey,” he coos. 

Your heart can’t calm down by the way he’s looking at you on his knees. His index finger slowly rolls through your folds, picking up your wetness, and looking up at you longingly.

“Baby?” He coos.

“Y-yes?” You say in a breathy moan.

“Can I take care of you? I need to take care of this,” He asks in a breathy whine, rubbing this thumb firmer on your clit making you yelp.

You nod your head and he plunges his long finger into your wet heat. You both moan and the squelching sounds that come out of you are lewd. He’s only had his hands on you for a few moments and you’re completely at his mercy, dripping down his fingers and wanting more.

He pumps his finger in and out of you a few times and you can feel your body wanting to come apart on him. He removes his finger and places a kiss on your mound. You hiss and the sensation and pull at his hair. He quickly looks up at you, looking for your approval.

“Can I use my mouth, baby? I want to taste what’s mine,” he says deviously.

You might as well pass out because his words are making you a weak mess. You quickly nod your head and that’s all it takes for Elvis to do what he does best.

His tongue glides up your folds, lapping and sucking on your clit. Your core throbs with every stroke of his tongue and makes you both make salacious moans. Elvis sounds like he’s getting just as much pleasure out of this with the sounds he making too. God, you can’t get over how he makes you feel. His hand tightens on your hips and pulls you down more on his face, making you groan. That’s when you feel his tongue enter you and continuously tease at your hole.

“Fuck honey,” you moan. He hums to himself in delight, fucking you with his tongue.

Your hips rock into his face as your hands grasp onto his hair. You’ll never get over the euphoric feeling he gives you when his body is on yours. And now, you have him on his knees for you. This strong, immortal man wants nothing more than to feel you and make you pleased.

Begging.

Begging to make you feel good.

Begging to use that mouth that can do so many good and bad things.

You shiver with that thought and try to block it out. 

You look down at him once you feel his finger spread your folds open and he suckles on your clit. You just about push him off of you as it's all too much, too over-stimulating, but he’s got a firm enough grip on your hip to keep you still.

He briefly stops to look at you, slick covering his face, licking his bottom lip before speaking.

“Oh baby, tasting so good. Am I making you feel good?” He says almost drunkenly.

You can’t speak, your body feels so weak and all you can do is groan. You look down at him and his eyes are dark, but still a hue of blue in them. You try to push his head back but he doesn’t move.

“Honey I asked you a question,” he growls. You whimper in agony, wanting him to finish what he started.

“Baby, I need to hear you. Tell me you like getting fucked by my mouth,” he groans, patiently waiting. His voice and tone shoot a pulse through you and you crave him. More than ever.

His patience runs thin and he knows how to get an answer out of you. You feel two of his fingers plunge deep inside of your wet heat making you moan his name.

“Tell me, baby, how good do I make you feel?” He growls, curling and pumping his fingers inside you faster. You close your eyes, whimpering in agony. He pushes up on that spongey spot inside you and sends you flying. The feeling of his rings pushing up against your entrance makes your eyes roll back and moan louder.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, looking down at him with hunger in his eyes.

“You like that baby?” He growls, fucking you faster with his fingers. You can feel the coil inside you get tighter by the second and the need to come apart on him.

“Yes! Oh God, yes. You feel so good, keep fucking me with your mouth please,” you cry.

He slyly grins at you, watching how wet his fingers are getting thrust in and out of you.

“Fuck, that’s what I wanted to hear baby,” he groans deeply, putting his mouth back on your clit and licking and sucking at it.

His fingers don’t slow down and the sensation of them curling inside you and his perfect mouth working your clit, you feel yourself about to come apart any second now. But he knows how to work you. Plays with you like you’re his favorite instrument. He can feel your walls begin to flutter and starts to slow down, edging you, taking his mouth off of you. You whine, wanting him to give you a mind-blowing orgasm.

But he’s patient in the game he makes. He twists his fingers slowly in and out of you, watching how your head gets thrown back when he reaches that spot inside you that makes you moan his name. You pant, barely able to catch your breath, and hear him moan once more when he puts his mouth on your clit. You keep rocking your hips into his face, liking to hear the suckling sounds his mouth makes when he’s eating you. You hear your heart pound away in your chest and know this must be killing Elvis.

You look down at him drunkenly there on the floor and your eyes shoot open when you process what he’s doing. You watch as his other ring-clad hand works his cock, moving in the tempo of how he’s fucking you with his fingers. The tip of him is red and dripping with precum, pulling his foreskin back and having his thumb rub his head. He groans deeply the more he uses his mouth and the more he jerks himself off. You can’t help but cuss, watching him do this to himself while he pleasures you makes you desperate for him. 

“Fuck, oh my God,” you cry out. Those intense eyes look up from eating you and grins.

He takes his mouth off of you and watches how your eyes are drawn to his length.

“I’m sorry baby I can’t help it. Look what you do to me. Makin’ me want to fuck you so bad,” he groans.

“Oh god yesss,” you whimper. You grind into his fingers, so overstimulated by it all and want to come apart already. “Please baby, make me come. I-I-I’m so c-close,” you gasp.

“Yes, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my tongue,” he commands. You cry out, closing your eyes shut as he fucks his fingers inside you faster and his mouth is back on your swollen clit.

You can’t hold back anymore and feel your walls squeeze his fingers tightly and you moan loudly. He groans when he feels you, looking up to see your face, washed over with ecstasy and calling out his name. He quickly pulls his finger out of you and replaces them with his mouth, lapping up the arousal that is seeping out of you and onto his eager tongue.

“Oh baby, you’re killing me. You’re going to make me cum too,” he groans, lapping at your folds and moving his hand faster on his cock. You can’t take it anymore, your body feels like a weak noodle and his tongue is driving you crazy. 

“Elvis, please, I-I can’t anymore,” you beg, trying to push his head away from you.

“Come again, baby. I know you can,” he teases, putting his mouth back on you.

He’s right because once you feel his mouth go back to work, the coil inside your belly is ready to snap. He uses his mouth like his life depends on it. Like he is starved for you, and now you know that has some truth to it.

You feel your core throb again and pulsate around his tongue. You feel so breathless and dizzy from it all. He groans when he’s inside you, feeling you squirm away from him.

He stops and takes your leg off of his shoulder, looking positively ravenous.

“Get on your knees. Please,” he growls.

Your heart gallops out of control and do as you’re told, dropping down to your knees. He stands up and puts his hand on top of your head, grabbing a fist full of hair and making you look up at him. You watch as he rubs himself and bites his lip looking down at you.

“Let me cum in that pretty mouth baby,” he pleads. You nod your head and he puts his cock in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He only thrusts inside you a few times before he releases his load and fills your mouth. You gag on him, not used to his length and with how much is coming out of him. He groans and pulls at your hair to make sure you’re looking at him.

“Fuck, such a good girl baby. Taking my cock down your throat so easily,” he groans, his eyes dark and full of hunger. Your eyes roll back at his words and feel like you’re going to combust. You moan with him inside you, waiting for him to finish. You move your tongue along the underside of him and he lets out an ear-shattering moan, causing arousal to come seeping out of you. 

He quickly pulls out of you and groans deeply, moving to his knees again and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry baby, I lost control there for a second,” he says ashamed, looking down to cover his dark eyes.

“You’re fine honey, I liked every second of it. Even if it was killing me,” you quip trying to calm yourself down.

“Yeah, I liked it a bit too much watching you writhe for me,” he says opening his eyes to look at you with mischief. His hand moves down to your sopping wet folds and you jump at the sensation. He watches your reaction carefully, applying more pressure to your folds.

He tsks at you, “Oh baby, looks how swollen and sensitive you are. I guess you can’t take anymore?” He asks.

You shake your head at him, trying to push his fingers away. “Please honey, I need a second,” you pant. You hold onto his hand and feel how wet his fingers are along with his rings. He looks at his hand too and slyly grins.

He twists off his black sapphire ring from his ring finger and looks up at you.

“Well I want to be inside you so, I guess this will have to do since I’m going to have to wait for a bit.” He says. You look at him confused and feel him insert the ring inside you. You cry out for him, not expecting him to do this.

“You let me know when you’re ready for me to take it out,” he coos, placing a kiss on your lips and sighing when he makes contact with you.

You stay breathless, shocked that he has such audacity to play with you like this.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” you huff, your sensitive core throbbing.

“That’s the plan baby,” he says smugly.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs (teaser)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Incubus! Hoseok, Horror AU, Thriller, Mystery, angst, smut Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: TBD (~25-35k) Release Date: Oct. 31st Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite spending 10 years in medical school there. With her return comes a spark of romance with a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of Deja vu. Her world begins to shift, and she begins to lose sight of dreams and reality. At the center of it all is Hoseok, his warm smiles and gentle kisses. But she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, death mentioned, terminal illnesses, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, Inexperienced!Reader, Good girl reader, hard dom Hoseok, Hoseok is a menace, he’s also very sus, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, DARK ENDING, dubious consent (kind of mind control/mood control/memory wiping), main character death (graphic), graphic violence, this is not a cute demon romance, more to come...

    nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

 After graduation, the dreams stopped. I stayed with my parents for the summer, played in the Florida sun, and decided against going back to New York for my fellowship. Instead, I chose to stay in Tallahassee and start my career. It was safe there. He was gone. A few years later, I left for Jacksonville and my paranoia had started to fade.

Years had gone by, and my memories of his face began to escape me. His name was nothing more than a gentle whisper in the deepest pits of my mind. Even then, saying that would be an overstatement. My return to New York was in the wake of my mother’s death. My dad had passed away a few years prior, and our vacation home in Harlem, the same place I lived in so many years ago, had become prime real estate. I got a fellowship through Columbia upon my return. Life was looking up despite my grief, and I was ready to start a new venture in my medical career.

That was the beginning of my eventual end. I had cheated death all those years ago. Angela was my replacement, though I had no idea at the time. That thing knew she was waiting for me. It knew she would not let me out of her sight, so it took care of the problem. My fear gave it power, and it indulged itself in my torture. When I came back, it knew. 

This time I would not be lucky. Nothing and no one would get in its way. Soon, all memories of that night vanished. Angela’s name escaped me first, then her face, and finally what happened to her. Dauphine and its never-ending halls were gone. The thing that sat at the bar made sure of that before making his next move. 

It was mid-October when he came back into my life, all memories of his face wiped from my mind, and his game really started. My death would be his favorite. A death he rejoiced in for years to come only to be disappointed that nothing lived up to that night. 

Things like Hoseok lived for the chase, and I proved to be his greatest target.

To be add to the taglist please ask, comment, or go to the link in my bio!

[wttcsms]

and i can’t make you stay (in this broken place) ; atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 6.3k synopsis i sin too much to pray for you — no one can believe that one of the most powerful crime lords in the underground world of japan, atsumu miya, is wrapped around the finger of a naive girl like you, but love doesn’t really care about boundaries anyway. content contains yakuza/mafia au, pet names (”baby”, “my girl”), morning sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, gun mentions, mild descriptions of violence, minor/insignificant character deaths, naive/innocent reader

It’s rare for him to be beside you when you wake up in the morning; even rarer than that is you actually waking up before him. But rare doesn’t always equate to never, and proof of this is the fact that he’s lying right next to you, snoring softly with an arm thrown over your body.

It’s funny — even when he’s asleep, he’s still protective of you.

There had been a lot of things about Atsumu Miya that had taken a considerable amount of time to get used to: his overprotective nature, the way he’s always right (because whatever he says goes; if he says the sky is yellow, National Geographic better have that on the cover of their next issue), the way that he treats speed limits as a suggestion…

The hardest thing that you had to learn to deal with, though, is the fact that he’s a businessman first and your boyfriend second. And for the most part, you can handle being second place on his list of priorities.

After all, you’ve only known him for a little over two years. It’s unfair, really, for you to expect him to rearrange his whole entire life over the fact that you entered his… Unexpectedly, if you’re going to delve deep into the details.

You like to think about how the two of you first met. It never fails to make you smile, and you’re smiling (like an idiot, you presume) right now. You were eighteen, then. A freshman at a decent sized university and horribly naive — even more so than you are right now, which is saying a lot.

He — a random junior fresh out of a party — wanted to take you out.

“Like a date?” You had asked, stupidly, hopefully.

“Yeah, like a date.”

(His smile was anything but sweet, but red flags seem like regular flags when you’re eighteen and looking at the world through rose colored glasses.)

The “date” could only be reached, according to the college boy, via a dark alley that just screamed dangerous. You didn’t want to walk through there, but he had convinced you that you were in safe hands.

Those same hands were gripped tightly around your wrists as he led you deeper down this unlitted alleyway. The same safe hands that travelled all over the sides of your body. Even in this damp location, even with the humid summer heat of Japan, even with the humidity making the air feel so thick it was as if it were solid, even with all of that, you were still shaking every time he so much as grazed your body.

The moment his “safe hands” found their way up your shirt, you screamed.

You don’t know this part about the story. Honestly, if Atsumu gets his way (and he usually does), you’ll never know this part. It’s not important, he reasons, for you to know the real reason on why he just so happened to be in that part of town.

(It had been too dark that night, and you were so anxious that you hadn’t noticed the stains on the collar of his dress shirt, and even if you had, you would never even think for a second that it was the blood of a rival yakuza member.)

Of course, the unbiased details of the story have long since been erased from your memories. When you look back at this fateful day, the only proper way (your words, obviously no one else’s) to explain Atsumu’s entrance is to compare it to that of a knight in shining armor. Because that’s how you felt when you saw his tall figure at the entrance of the alley.

You had screamed for help, and he saved you with no hesitation.

After that, it had only made sense to you to keep in contact with him.

For such a shy, scared girl, you were awfully persistent in chasing after him. He’s never saved a girl’s number in his phone before, and he swore that you weren’t going to be an exception.

And then you became an — no, the — exception.

(He tells you, one day when he’s drunk, that he always knew you were going to be The One since the first day he met you. You had been shaking like you were freezing and stuttering over your words, and he didn’t want to see such a pretty girl like you — no, not like you… just you, because you are the only exception, after all — in a predicament like that ever again.

What a walking contradiction he is: vowing to protect you as if your very association with him isn’t the main reason why you’re in a constant state of danger.)

You moved in with him after just six months of dating. He’s your first serious boyfriend, and it’s not like you regret staying by his side, even if he does have some weird tendencies that any other sensible person would investigate. The early morning meetings and late hours that he works “at the office” are suspicious. Sometimes, he’ll come home to you with a different new scar but the same method of brushing off all your questions and concerns as trivial things.

( “Ya worry about me too much.” He tells you, like the thought of you caring about his well being, about him, so deeply doesn’t make his heart grow twice its size.)

You’re not nearly as dimwitted as his coworkers — specifically Kiyoomi Sakusa, the notorious germaphobe and coldest of the bunch — think you are. You know that there’s more to Atsumu Miya than his job as an investment broker. You know that there’s a reason he doesn’t want you to be at his work office. Absolutely no surprise visits — he’s very adamant about this rule. You highly doubt you could even get away with it; the security for his company is insane.

But he comes home to you in one piece, and his cashflow seems nearly endless, and when you’re with him, you feel so safe. So, you don’t question his business, you don’t go digging around, trying to find out where all his money and power come from. At the end of the day, does it really matter?

All that matters is that he’s here with you, right now, for what seems like the first time in forever. You’re so ridiculously happy about this fact that you can’t seem to stop smiling at him as he continues to sleep. You take a hand to reach up and play with his hair, and his eyes open in a flash, almost as if he hadn’t been sleeping just a second ago.

He looks ready to jump into action, but his body relaxes when he realizes that it’s just you.

(That’s another one of Atsumu’s odd tendencies — he’s constantly on his guard.)

He makes a small noise, shuts his eyes again, and snuggles up even closer to you, his grip on your body tightening even more. You continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Poor baby, longer hours at the office?” You murmur, more to yourself than him. Of course you know that he’s working longer hours — the number of times you fell asleep while waiting for him makes it hard for you to not notice the slight shift in his schedule.

He’s still trying to snuggle up even closer to you, like he can’t bear not having his body pressed flush against yours.

“Mm, I’d feel a lot better if I got to spend more time with my girl.” He says, face burrowed in your hair, muffling his voice. You know this is just supposed to be a sweet morning in bed with your boyfriend, but you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together at his trademark nickname for you — my girl. It sounds even better when it’s said with his morning voice.

“Let’s have breakfast together.” You suggest, your hand moving lower to play with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s not a bad idea. Atsumu knows you like to dote on him just as much as he does for you. The image of you wearing one of his dress shirts and just a pair of panties he bought you while working hard to prepare him a meal is a sight that greets him home at least once a week, and he can never get tired of it. But it’s been a while since he’s been able to indulge in this much free time, and today—

Today Atsumu wants breakfast in bed.

His arm around your waist allows him to squeeze one of your asscheeks before he moves his arm to the front of your body, traveling to the apex of your thighs. You part them without him having to tell you to do so, and he smiles at your easy submission. You really are his good girl, huh?

“‘Tsum—’Tsumu.” You whimper out while he traces the lace of your panties before pulling them to the side to expose your pretty pussy. He leans on his other arm, resting all his body on his left arm, so he can admire you better.

“So early in the morning, and my baby’s already so wet.” He’s smiling as his index finger finds its way inside of you.

You know that your original plan was supposed to be making Atsumu feel good, a treat for working so hard (working on what , you have no idea), but you can’t focus because it’s barely seven in the morning, and he already has you wet and wanton for him and his touch. It’s unfair, really, how just a simple taste of his touch has you keening for more already.

You can’t help but lift your hips up to try to get him in deeper, but he just laughs — a deep, melodic rumble — before adding his middle finger.

One of the things he loves most about you is the effect you have on how he views life. Atsumu Miya’s never been the type of guy to believe in fate; coincidences, sure, but never destiny, y’know? But he supposes even the universe has a heart, because it led him to you.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling extra confident, he reckons that he has the Midas Touch. His hands have explored every centimeter of your gorgeous body; how else would he explain just how golden you are? But that’s just all you; his golden girl long before you even met him. If anything, he knows the real truth: the more time you spend with him, the more time you’ll lose that lovely shine to you. Touches from a man like him only tarnish, are only capable of tainting you.

But he can’t think about that now. Lately, he’s been getting in his head, always wondering when the day is gonna come where you decide to pack your bags and jump ship. It’s why he needs to savor moments like these for as long as they last.

You grind against his hand, trying to get him in deeper as if it’s physically possible. That’s another thing he loves so much about you; it’s easy to get you needy for him. The thought of you being like this with someone else leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but the little whimpers of his name draws him out of his uncalled for jealous spiral.

Your hands, so much tinier than his, grab onto his arm, nails making themselves at home on the skin and muscle of his biceps. Most of the time, you’re his cute little pillow princess, but then there are moments where you’re just so desperate that you’re willing to put in the work, too.

“Look at you, baby, gettin’ all wet and messy from riding my fingers like they’re my cock.” He coos, watching you use his fingers to get yourself off. You’ll never believe him when he tells you just how pretty you look going stupid as the only thought in your mind is to chase after the pleasure only he can give you. Would you be grinding against the hand of anyone else, clenching around someone else’s fingers as well as you are right now?

No, you wouldn’t be. You wouldn’t be, because it’s his skin that had indentations of your nails digging themselves in there as your movements get even more sporadic. It’s him that’s being granted a front row seat to watch the way your pretty pussy glistens in the morning glow of the sun. It’s his fingers that are buried knuckles deep in your wet heat, his hand that your slick arousal is dripping all over.

“ATSUMU!” You moan out, practically humping his hand as you ride out your first orgasm of the morning. Your cheeks are burning with heat, but it’s nothing compared to the warm feeling you get in your belly before cumming all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

You’re not given a moment to come down from your previous high because when Atsumu withdraws his fingers from your cunt and brings his cum coated fingers to his lips to get a taste of you, all his restraint, all thoughts of taking his time to savor your sweetness, flies out the window.

He’s greedy, he knows it. But he also knows you, so when finds himself with his head between your thighs, licking up the remnants from your previous orgasm, he knows before you even do it that you’ll card your fingers through his hair and push his head down.

He smiles at your needy actions. Honestly, when he’s with you, it’s hard to stop himself from smiling. You just make him so happy — even happier when you make those cute, little noises when he fucks you with his tongue.

He could live in between your legs for the rest of his life, with only your juices to sustain him. Drugs have hardly ever held any interest to him, but as he relishes in the sweet taste of you, he can’t help but think that you’re his drug of choice. With a pussy like pure codeine, and a taste so sweet that he can’t help but drown himself in your essence, you wash away all his worries.

You’re lucky that he’s not tender headed, especially since you always love to pull at his hair when he makes you feel good. The sounds of him eating you out are lewd and mix in with your sweet mewls. He knows you’re close. Your thighs are closing in on him, your grip on his hair is tightening and you’re pulling with reckless abandon as your body squirms and moves sporadically without your mind telling it too. You’re so lost in the pleasure, burning in the heat of the moment.

When he finally sucks on your clit, you scream as your second orgasm has you clamping your thighs. He continues sucking on your clit throughout your release, utterly enraptured at the way you throw your head back with your back arched. He admires the way your pretty lips part to moan out his name, only his name, always his name.

You’re trying to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips, your juices smeared all over his chin, making the lower half of his face all shiny, slick with your arousal. Your bottom lip juts out as you pout, tears welling up in your eyes.

Immediately, the pleased expression on his face morphs into one of complete concern.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” He’s panicking, worried that he went too hard on you. He’s been rougher before, but maybe his idea of “soft and sweet” is different from yours. He had only wanted to make you feel good, and it seemed like you were enjoying it, but—

“Y-you didn’t give me a-a-a chance—” You sniffle, finding it hard to stop the flow of tears from falling down your warm cheeks. “—t-to make you feel good, t-too.”

His thumb wipes away some of your tears. Look at you, all fucked out with your cute, quivering little hole still clenching around nothing. Nothing is better than seeing your pussy covered in your cum — unless, of course, it’s his cum that’s seeping out your abused hole.

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, using his free hand to tug at the waistband of his boxers. “I never said we were finished.”

Atsumu Miya likes to play games. Which his right-hand man, Kiyoomi Sakusa, says is going to be the downfall of them all, but Atsumu doesn’t care because he thinks that Omi is too serious for his own good.

To the outside world, he’s the president of MSBY, one of the leading investment brokerages in Japan. That’s what he likes to call himself: an investment broker. A real businessman, y’know? And he looks the part, too: gelled hair, nice watch, shiny shoes, a custom tailored suit that’s been ironed by you.

To the men who dared to go against him, though, he’s the embodiment of death. The building MSBY calls its headquarters is fifty stories tall, but right now, right fucking now, he’s deep underground. On the rare occasions he does allow you to visit him at work, he shows you to his office at the very top floor — the one with the best view in Japan, he tells you, as you stare in awe at the beautiful scene before you — and says that this is where he does most of his work.

He doesn’t like lying to you, but sometimes, lying is necessary. You’re a curious thing by nature; if he told you the truth, the truth being that most of the time, all of his business is handled in the wide basement of this office building, you would ask to see it.

He doesn’t want you to see it, though. Doesn’t want you to see the way he handles business, doesn’t want you to see the men he does business with, and certainly doesn’t want those men to see you .

“Pathetic.” Kiyoomi spits out, leaning against the wall with a cold look in his dark eyes. The black mask he’s wearing obscures the disgusted sneer on his face that Atsumu knows is gracing his features.

The three men whose knees are on the floor, bowing down to Kiyoomi and Atsumu, don’t say anything in reply.

Kiyoomi brought them in because he had a sneaking suspicion that this trio had been breaking the rules, and Kiyoomi’s suspicions are hardly ever wrong. These three men had gotten a little bit too ambitious in their pursuit of money.

“Ya think I would just let the three of ya walk around as free men after what you tried to pull?” Atsumu snaps. “You think I would let anyone get away with tryin’ to sell off girls? The three of you are shit at running drugs, you really thought you could get away with human trafficking?” His voice is raising — he’s not yelling, though, not yet. “I ought to get the whole crew down here, so they can watch you three beg for your lives before I put a bullet through each of yer heads.”

“Pl-please, sir—”

“Close yer damn mouth. The more you talk, the more I want to get this over with.” Atsumu takes a step closer to them. “I was gonna go easy on ya, but then Omi told me somethin’ real interesting.” He nods to Kiyoomi, who finally stops leaning against the wall and straightens up.

“They have a bunch of files on young girls they’ve been scouting in this area. Ones that they think would be easy targets.” Kiyoomi tosses the file that he’s been hiding away in the inside of his suit jacket. “I think the one I left on top is gonna make you—” He pauses, as if he trying to find the right word without spoiling the surprise. He shrugs instead. “Well, go ahead and take a look.”

When Atsumu opens the file, he’s greeted with a candid shot of you. It had been taken last week — he knows so, because he recognizes the frilly white sundress you’re wearing in this photo. It’s the same dress he bunched up to fuck you by the lake the two of you were having a picnic at. The memory is a good one, but the fact that they managed to get a clear photo of you before that angers him.

Attached is a paper with your information filled out: basic things, like your name, age, your city of residence…

Obviously their work isn’t nearly as thorough as it could be, considering the fact that they hadn’t known about your connection to him. It’s almost laughable, really, at how pitiful their attempts to start their own little side business is.

“[Name] [Surname].” He reads out your name slowly, mockingly — as if these men are children who need help sounding out new vocabulary words in a picture book.

“Sir, please! We’ll do anything! We-we can even get her for you, if that’s what you wa—“

A swift kick to the man’s jaw has him shutting up, the impact so strong that a tooth flies out. Kiyoomi looks at it with disgust.

“God, you three are the biggest fucking idiots here, huh? I don’t even wanna know what I was thinking lettin’ ya in.” Atsumu’s eyes narrow at the pitiful sight beneath him. He should feel bad, he thinks. But, then again, they’re just asking for it. Not only did they try to use their weak connection to MSBY to promote their own little business venture, but they failed, miserably. He’d be embarrassed to be them right now.

It’s not just the ignorance and disloyalty that has his blood pressure rising, though. It’s the fact that they’ve been watching you, taking pictures of you, maybe even following you whenever they can, that makes him see red. Them asking him to spare their lives in exchange for you, though, is his breaking point.

Kiyoomi can see that Atsumu’s this close to doing something dangerous, but he doesn’t make any moves to stop him. Not because he can’t, but because he just doesn’t want to. Atsumu’s a big boy who can clean up his own messes (not well, which leaves Kiyoomi with the responsibility to erase all traces that anyone’s ever been murdered down here). Truth be told, Kiyoomi’s bored, and when Atsumu gets mad, things get fun.

He can see the gears turning in Atsumu’s head right now as he plans his next move. The pathetic whimpering coming from the trio of traitors is making Kiyoomi’s ears bleed, so he’s hoping ‘Tsumu can hurry the hell up so he can make it on time for a lunch reservation he set up…

“Since the the three of ya are all gonna be meeting yer maker soon, I’ll let you in on a little secret only the higher ups know about.” He pulls out his phone — his personal one, the one dedicated just for you — while he talks. “[Name] is my girlfriend. So I don’t need the three of you to try to take advantage of her and bring her to me.” He crouches down so he doesn’t have to speak as loud when he explains what’s about to go down.

“As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna call her right now. Ya know what happened to the last guys that tried to fuck me and my organization over?”

“Sir! We did—“

He gets cut off when Kiyoomi knees him on the side of his head.

“Shut up, and let him finish.” Atsumu can always count on Kiyoomi to help him get his point across.

“The last guy’s last words were tellin’ my girl how pretty she looked. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ya think my girl is pretty?” Atsumu pulls out his gun, matte black, fully loaded, and presses it against the middle man’s head. “Ya wanna know why that was that bastard’s last words?” He sneers, not waiting for an answer. “It’s because he wasn't even good enough to be looking at her.”

He pulls back his hand, removing the gun from against the man’s temple, and straightens up, standing to his full height.

“But that was too borin’. And besides, I don’t want you fuckers talkin’ to her.” His gun is tucked safely behind his back as he unlocks his phone. A photo of you blowing a kiss at him greets him on his home screen.

“I’m gonna ask her to pick a number between one and three. Whatever number she chooses is the number of bodies Omi’s gonna have to take to the burner.”

“Th-this isn’t right!” One of the men shouts. “Letting your fucktoy call the shot—“

“You can get shot right now if ya like.” The man is silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

When he calls you, you pick up on the first ring, just like he knew you would because that’s what you always do.

“Hey, aren’t you at work right now?”

“I’m takin’ a break.”

“That’s good! You’ve been working so hard. Are you sure you can’t bring some of your work home?”

Well, he could, but he’s not sure how you would feel about having a stranger’s blood splattered all over the white carpets you made him buy.

“Nah, I’m fine. Hey, I wanted to call you because I need some help.”

“Really?” He can practically see your wide eyes. “Of course! D-do you need me to come down to the office?”

“No!” He winces when he realizes that his voice is louder than it needs to be. “No.” He repeats, more gently this time around. The difference startles the three men, but Kiyoomi just rolls his eyes. It’s pathetic how much Atsumu babies you.

“I just need you to pick a number between one and three.”

“For what?”

“Can’t say. Just pick, baby.”

“Um…” He can tell you’re probably biting your bottom lip in thought. “Whatever I say won’t ruin the company, right? Like, this isn’t some life or death decision I’m making?”

Atsumu’s smile is a sadistic one. “Of course not! I can’t tell ya what it’s for, but it’s definitely nothing crazy. But you gotta pick now, baby, I’m in a hurry.”

“Okay, well, you know what? You can never go wrong with picking the highest number. I think I should choose number three.”

“Three?” Atsumu asks, just to confirm that he hasn’t gone hard of hearing yet.

“Three.” You confirm, giggling a little bit. “So, did I choose good?”

“You chose perfectly, baby. I gotta go now, but I’ll see you tonight.”

When he hangs up, it’s like flipping a switch. His face is contorted into a cruel sneer as he stares down at the three men. He only looks up to nod at Omi, who’s now pulling out his own gun.

“Hey.” Atsumu taps the toe of his shiny dress shoes on the cheek of one of the kneeling men. It’s the same one who was so adamant that this “wasn’t right”. Pulling back the safety of his gun, the action making a resounding click that echoes throughout this dark room, Atsumu smirks. “How does it feel knowing that my fucktoy is the reason why ya got a bullet through yer head?”

He doesn’t get an answer because dead men don’t speak.

Showing you off, though, becomes a problem — and fast.

Word spreads like wildfire in the underground world, and the hottest news right now is this: Atsumu Miya’s absolutely whipped for some stupid slut, and if you value your life, you’ll leave her the fuck alone.

But there are two sides to a coin, and the other side is this: the best way to fuck with Atsumu Miya is to fuck with you.

Every major and minor crimelord or lone wolf has heard about you. Most of them have seen a photo of you, some of them even have their own. The most direct way of having Atsumu Miya in the palm of their hands is to choke you with it first.

An old rival of his is the first to hear the news about you. Tobio Kageyama isn’t interested in how pretty you are; he doesn’t care that you’re naive and just begging to be taken advantage of; he couldn’t care less about all the lewd comments used to describe you when he’s gathering info. All he cares about is that kidnapping you will have Atsumu doing whatever he wants, and at the end of the day, all Tobio really cares about is how much power he has.

But you don’t know about any of this. How could you? Atsumu’s main goal is keeping you in the dark. You’re not stupid — obviously, he’s into some shady shit, but it’s never been anything that you felt you should worry about. Besides, aren’t all businessmen a little crooked?

The sound of several muttering voices and the slam of a door signals that Atsumu is home, and you peek your head from behind the wall that serves to separate the entranceway from the living room.

“‘Tsumu?” You ask, staring first at your boyfriend, and then at the three men behind him. You recognize the trio — you call them his friends, even though Atsumu knows better. They’re loyal and he doesn’t mind spending time with them, but there’s no room for any real meaningful friendships to take place.

“We have to go. Now.” Atsumu makes his way to you in just three long steps, his hand finding its way to your tiny arm, squeezing tight as he drags you alongside him.

“‘Tsumu, I-I don’t understand. Did I do something? Wh-”

“Kiyoomi, you sure you wanna go alone? Bo could always come with you.”

Kiyoomi scoffs underneath his mask, as if what Atsumu just suggested offends him. “I respect Ushijima, but I’m sure he and I can come to an understanding without any assistance.”

Atsumu speaks to Shouyo and Koutarou, double checking on certain things, and when everything seems to be sorted out, he nods at them before dragging you out into the hallway of the apartment building you live in.

“Atsumu, let me go.”

“I can’t do that.” He says, never easing his grip on you as he walks down the hallway and pulls you into an elevator, taking the two of you down to the parking garage.

“What’s going on, Atsumu?” You try to ease the shake in your voice as you grab at his chin, forcing him to face you. He seems angry at first, but his features soften as he looks down at you.

“I’m not a good person, ya know.”

“Did something happen?”

“The specifics aren’t important, trust me.”

“Trust you?” You ask. “Can I? Should I?”

Now’s not the time for his heart to be breaking. Whether he’s fucking you or not, you always look up at him adoringly, like he’s just the ninth wonder of the world or something. Now, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger, and the worst part about it is the fact that it’s entirely justified. You brought out a different side to him no one else would ever know existed, but that doesn’t mean you know about who he really is.

“Do you?” He retorts, looking directly in your eyes, seeing his crazed expression reflecting back at him.

A beat passes, and then—

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

You’re telling the truth.

When he takes you to the safe house, he explains it. Maybe not all of it, and he’s definitely sparing you the gritty details, but you get what you need to know — what you should know. MSBY has one foot in the corporate world, and one buried deep in the ground of the world of organized crime. He’s been prepped and primed for his position since he was a teenager; leaving isn’t an option granted to many.

He gave up his life for this cause so his brother could live normally. Now you know why he never talks about Osamu — it’d leave a bitter taste in your mouth too.

A lot of bad men want to hurt you as a means of getting to him. He can protect you — he will protect you. He just needs time. Time to gather more resources, time to deal with all his enemies, time time time.

He’s been running short of it for quite a while now.

He tells you your limited options: stay with him, or stay with him ‘til it’s safe for you to leave this safehouse, and you can break free from this life. You can pretend that you’ve never even met him. Move on. Meet someone normal. You’d still be under his protection either way.

You cried when he told you this. You’re sensitive, after all. Empathetic, too. His pain ultimately becomes your pain, and he hates himself because the last thing he had ever intended to do was hurt you .

But hurting people comes easy to him. His hands have been molded to hold a gun, not love. He’s not built for tender touches and handling things with care, and maybe he was just fooling himself into thinking that you’re meant to be his.

But all thoughts of how he’s a monster incapable of deserving nice things, incapable of deserving you, leaves his mind when he finds you straddling his lap. You stopped crying, but the barely dried up tear streaks are still on your cheeks, lashes still wet as you stare at him.

You’re pressing your body against his, arms wrapped around his neck, face burrowed in the open space between his neck and shoulder. It’s like you’re trying to steal him of all his warmth — isn’t it bad enough that you’ve already stolen his heart?

Is it bad that he’d give you his all, give you everything, if you just asked?

He’s not sure how long he holds you like this, but it also doesn’t take you very long to start squirming against him.

Even in a life threatening situation, you’re still his needy little slut. You’re grinding on his lap, letting out tiny, cute whimpers as you rub your clothed cunt over his steadily hardening cock.

“Mmm, I-I need you, ‘Tsumu.” You whine out, rubbing your face against his neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

“Yeah? My pretty baby needs me?” He groans out. “I need you, too, baby. I need to fuck your little pussy ‘til everyone knows who you belong to.”

Ridding you of your shorts and panties is an easy task, especially since you’re so eager. Your dainty fingers are unzipping his jeans, and he watches you with half-lidded, lust filled eyes as you hastily pull down, trying to free his cock from its confines.

He fucks you all night, making good on his word. The first time you orgasm is when you ride his cock like it’s the last time you’ll ever do so, pathetically rutting up against him like a weak bitch in heat. His fingerprints are embedded in the flesh of your hips, and he sucks harsh hickies on your neck and collarbone that don’t fade for a week. The second time you orgasm is when he takes you to the king sized bed and properly gets his cock reacquainted with your pretty pussy, thrusting in so deeply that he presses against your cervix despite your whines. Your walls clamp down on him so tightly, clinging to his dick every time he tries to move; he doesn’t have to mold you to him, it’s as if you’ve already been made for him, custom tailored to fit him and only him.

He fucks you rough and hard, with a bruising pace and superhuman stamina. Your throat is sore from screaming so much. You’re nothing but a leaking hole by the time he’s done for the night, vision blurred and limbs feeling like gelatin. You can barely form a coherent thought, nevertheless speak using actual sentences, and so when he pulls you close to him, placing a gentle, almost chaste kiss on your forehead, you can’t tell him what you want to say: I love you, and I won’t leave you.

The hardest part about the life he’s been forced to live is the fact that his priorities will never align. He thinks about this as he tucks you in, brushing back your hair as you sleep. You roll over on your side, grabbing at the spot where he should have been laying, pouting in your sleep as if you know he should be there and he isn’t.

That’s the issue. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t be there for you as much as he would like.

Stupid Kiyoomi warned him about this — “You can’t live a double life.” He can’t run the underground crime world and be your boyfriend. He also can’t put you through this life; can’t force you to stay in a place where you don’t belong.

He brushes his lips against your forehead again, smiling at you as you sleep.

He’ll come back for you, he swears. He just has to make sure that you’ll be safe. Won’t come back for you until he’s certain that all the major threats are gone.

You’ll wake up alone. There will be no way for you to contact him. He won’t go out of his way to speak to you, either. It’s best for the both of you to learn and adjust to living without each other.

In this line of business, it’s just better for everyone in the long run to prepare for the worst.

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ In which; Dottore as a streamer... ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ I'll have to admit, this character is quite... alluring.❜❜

Pairing(s): Streamer!Dottore x (kinda) Game-Character!GN!Reader (Mordern AU)

Genre/Format: N/A (headcanons)

Warning(s): wrote this at 6am without thinking straight so possible grammar mistakes and sentences that don't make sense

Notes: There really isn't much of x Reader here, sadly :( I might write more of this in the future but idk

I know i have requests to do but this idea came out of nowhere and it was too tempting to not write something for it— I've only written headcanon once so this is short. I have no idea if I'm doing this right 💀

Let's be real, this guy would probably stream live torture on the darkest part of the internet

BUT, let's just pretend in this AU he's not an evil doctor man <3

He is a tired university student who majors in biology and thrives to earn a position in the medical field

And that means becoming a coffee addict and endless nights of staying up late to study 

Sleeping? What's that?

I can see him being so focused on his studies to the point where he doesn't interact with the internet much

If someone showed him a popular meme he wouldn't understand 

Boomer

L

Due to how busy he is, he doesn't have the time to find a job

He lives off of the money his parents send him every month lol

That was until someone introduced him to the wonders of the internet…

One of his friends—Childe, told him something about a streaming platform and he should go check it out

And that night when he got home, he pulled his laptop out and searched for it

He also learnt that people can earn money streaming whatever

For instance, most of the people streams "let's plays"

He scrolled down a little and he found people streaming… questionable things, and he was baffled they get paid for it

So that means, he could stream anything he wants and he'd earn money from it, as long as he has a certain amount of viewers 

Say less

And an account was made 

This basically becomes his part-time job now

He usually streams to tutor struggling students and you best believe they were very thankful 

He'll sometime do "study with me" streams too

As he takes his fifteen minutes breaks from studying, he'd talk to his viewers 

And when I tell you this man has the driest humor ever—

That's what got his channel to grow

Viewers would clip his dry ass jokes and post them onto other social media platforms, which caused his view counts to blow up

As he got more and more popular, his viewers would beg him to do gaming streams

With how dry his humor is, they thought his commentary would be gold…

And they're absolutely correct, they get to see a different side of him too 

Surgeon simulator is the very first game he was introduced to by his fans, to get him interested in gaming

Man's cursing every time when he accidentally drops something

"Now, we put this lung over— Shit."

Cue chat spamming the Kek emote 

It's been months since he started to stream and things are going pretty well for him

He comes back home from his lectures today to find his Discord server is filled with loads of fans telling him to check a game out, mostly because of a certain character

The general chat is flooded with hundreds, and I mean hundreds of pictures of them

And Lo and Behold

It is you

The moment he first has his eyes on you, his jaw drops

God DAMN YOU LOOK FINE AS HELL

Not to mention that harness you have on you—

Ahem

Anyways

He doesn't even know who you are or what game you're from

But man he's head over heels for you already 

The next time he starts his stream, the first thing he says is:

"Everyone was going crazy on Discord yesterday about a game character. And now my question is…

"Who are they and which game are they from?"

Babygirl took his first step into the world of simping <3

[snowbellewells]

MY CSSNS23 MC: "Carolina Moon" {prologue}

**Thank you SO MUCH to my event artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the absolutely amazing cover art she created (in much less time than I should have afforded her). I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it, and am thrilled to be able to put it with each update of my story. Also, I'm so grateful to have @xarandomdreamx as my beta for this fic as well, though I did not give her this prologue, so any mistakes here are absolutely and unfortunately mine! And thank you too to the @cssns as a whole for once again providing such a great event of which to be a part!!***

Here is my second submission to the @cssns23 event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts novel and subsequent tv movie Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure about the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real-world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements.  There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot; still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Prologue

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights when she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little forest haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acreage. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Rose’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment her friend seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon, and she had seen that Rose held a new Boxcar Children book in her hand, that her friend would not be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose Jones in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They are each willing to give the other at least one person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror, practicing batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness. Cora Jones is a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both her daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. Emma could not care any less about such details; she is already clinging to the very bottom rung of such a social structure - if she and the so-called guardians with whom she lives are on the ladder at all. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea about the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged, foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out of her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but mistreatment and injustice seem to be her lot in life thus far, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different though when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until they pass, then she helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, even stay in the servant’s quarters; Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she has in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat; Graham, her first friend, once a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had shown her ages ago, as well as taught her how to fish. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes has seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts. 

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” None other than Emma’s nemesis, Killian Jones, crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at Killian and his friends’ interruption to the quiet peace of their sanctuary. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister share little in common, she and her two-years-older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’s had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, who now stands in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose’s and my hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that to most folks she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and at the intentional slight, cuts her gaze to the third member of the boys’ little crew, skulking a step back in the shadows behind where Killian and Graham stand, as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman, it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all.  Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line; whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption.  Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her visions are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me.  I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest; Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home, and Rose to the pristine Jones family mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection, jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for her rights and her needs, to control her visions and use them for good, and had even served a special consultant for the Boston PD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that had followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected others to leave the past in the past, she would first have to manage to do the same.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who had stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then was not her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight. 

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @wefoundloveunderthelight @eastwesthomeisbest @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @blackwidownat2814 @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines

[lisa972kdlz]

(It's translated from French, I hope there aren't too many syntax errors ^^" In any case, enjoy your reading !)

Dreamtale Theories:

Here's a list of a few theories about the Dreamtale Lore, this story leaving some very interesting gaps to try and fill. Philosophical and scientific thoughts helpt me to concretise these ideas, but although I've been inspired by them, it's not with these points of view I'm going to develop, but rather a purely artistic point of view. Little by little, philosophy and science have been lost in my ramblings, giving way to imaginations that seemed to fit together. Artists imagine. They cheat, they lie, they don't care much for concrete realities. In the end, the only science I get into position on is the elements of the Dreamtale canon, at least those I've managed to pick out. Perhaps I've missed some information that would disprove these hypotheses, in which case it would be courteous of you to let me know.

On a more chill note, say I'm just a teenager with a overflowing mind who loves to come up with crazy theories with whatever I can get my hands on, and I write this mainly for fun ^^

In fact, I don't think for a second I'm right, so I don't know if I can call those theories... Maybe speculation ideas about Dreamtale I wanted to share? Almost headcanons, but still based on concrete elements of the canon.

So let's go, first theory!

☁︎ Canon/Fanon:

For starters, why do I insist so much on canonicity? Because when it comes to Dreamtale, the boundary between Fanon and Canon is not always well understood, given that there are a lot of preconceived ideas on the subject.

The fact is, I see Dreamtale's Fanon and Canon as two completely separate worlds. And yet, understand that I hate adhering to variants of this and that for anything and everything. The idea of viscerally separating the Canon and Fanon sides of an oeuvre makes no sense to me, especially in an open world where each universe is a piece of a larger puzzle, where the world we're presented with is meant to be a huge playground.

And at this stage, if we do that with this universe, we could do the same for all the existing stories, no? Nevertheless, for THIS world and this world in particular, I think it's important.

For there is a crucial difference between C!Dreamtale and F!Dreamtale, a difference that completely alters the interpretation of the oeuvre. Fanon doesn't just make a few interpretative changes... He changes the very nature of a character: Corrupted Nightmare. And that, well... It's a bit complicated not to separate the two, especially when the Fanon version is so popular... Canon, he is dead and his body belongs to another character who has his own personality and background. Fanon, he's alive. Trapped, imprisoned, manipulated, split into two personalities (Night and Mare) or fundamentally evil, depending on the case, but alive.

Night is experiencing a bit of Asriel syndrome: it was because Undertale fans couldn't accept his death that the first AU's were created. And for Dreamtale, there was such misunderstanding about this (Because reading the Prologue, everyone agreed that Corrupted Nightmare was...well... Nightmare), that the majority think this is official. (It has to be said, it wasn't evident let me reassure you...)

To this we can add the fact that most of the time, in very fanon fanfics and fancomics, the other two trees don't exist or are never mentioned, that Corrupted (I refuse to call him "Nightmare" simply because he isn't Nightmare) isn't a real person or doesn't exist at all, that Dreamtale is an AU of Undertale, so made up of codes like the other AU's, but all that still depends on people's interpretation and knowledge of the real Dreamtale.

To put it more bluntly, and if the boundary's still unclear: F!Dreamtale is a part of the Undertale Multiverse, while C!Dreamtale is its own universe.

Since I like both aspects equally, and in order to get everyone on the same page, I've come up with a mini theory:

Dreamtale Fanon, being the Dreamtale developed by fans based on the belief that Corrupted Nightmare is more or less Night, has strayed so far from its original story (it focuses more on the "broken brothers" relationship of the twins, their mutual development and their relationships with the characters of the Undertale fandom), that over time, by putting down roots in the world of Undertale and through the influence of the creators, Dreamtale would have "split." This double would then have merged with the codes of the Undertale Multiverse, because Dreamtale was so well integrated into it that this version of it ended up becoming imprinted on the very core and codes. That's why, in F!Dreamtale, we don't always mention the other trees, since they never joined the Undertale Multiverse. Even we NEVER mention them in Dreamtale's AU's like Swapdream or the alternative Multiverses like Dreamswap, Swapverse, etc. That's why Dream and Nightmare exist in the alternative Multiverses,AU's and not the rest (Vampireverse, Empireverse, Minuscultale and so on).

The result is two Dreamtales:

The Canon Dreamtale, which belongs to Joku,

The Fanon Dreamtale, which belongs to the Fandom Joku too.

Well yeah, it's still Dreamtale, so it still belongs to Joku, no matter what haters want ◖눈ᴥ눈◗

Duh.

Also, this definitely doesn't prevent fanfics from being based on C!Dreamtale, it's even advisable to give it the prominence it deserves. Hence the idea of completely separating these versions, because fans can make fanfics about the Canon, and although it's fanon, it won't be similar to the F!Dreamtale version at all.

Two worlds taking different thematic paths created on the uncertainty of Night's death (like a "Schrodinger's Night" ͡° ͜ · ͡°).

Next theory!

☁︎ Tree of Feelings/Creators link:

This is a question I picked up when wondering about Dream and Corrupted's various attacks. Where Dream needs a body to hold him together, Corrupted has so many black apples that he can physically hold himself together without a body, and more or less correctly. Do positive and negative energies function differently? Is it because Corrupted has more apples that he holds on better? What is positive and negative energy in Dreamtale's Lore?

At the beginning, I'd started from the principle that Energy with a big E, being what makes up absolutely all existing things, humans and monsters alike, could be used by Dream and Corrupted to be converted into either magical energy or physical energy. As Dream only holds one apple and enjoys a body, he'd mindlessly convert his energy into magical energy, which is why he has a soul similar to human's souls and why he's able to heal as green magic does, or cause damage as white magic does. For Corrupted's part, possessing no body of his own and having amassed enough power from his hundreds of apples, he would have to convert negative energy into physical energy. This would require a great deal of power and would therefore explain why, despite he's stronger than Dream, he's not 999X stronger than him. He already uses a lot of his energy simply... Holding on without melting.

I also theorised that if one of them were to acquire all the apples, not only would it have a stable body, but it would also be able to convert this energy as it saw fit. Corrupted could then generate magical attacks AND have a physical body.

The trouble is... Dreamtale isn't actually part of Undertale. So there's no Magic,Physics duality. And even assuming that Dream converts that energy into magical energy because he's unconsciously copying the way his adopted world works, he's still canonically attacking with positive energy and not MAGIC made from positive energy. Energy comes in many forms, but I don't think he can control it in such a pure form...

All this can still hold together, but what bothers me most is that pure Energy would have... A positive side and a negative side? And what's more, related to feelings? Why not, but I'm not really pleased with.

Dream and Corrupted's energy is material, palpable. Of course, we could stop at the fact that it's just a magical energy like we find everywhere in stories and not ask ourselves any more questions.

But I love wracking my brains to find answers to questions that no one wonder, so I'll keep going èwé–

What kind of energy would this refer to? Not energy in the scientific sense, because that's independent of any emotion, whereas in Dreamtale, positive energy, for example, is directly linked to positive feelings.

Because tree of FEELINGS–

The most plausible thing I found with is that positive and negative energies are linked to the spiritual energy: auras, meditation, etc. Proof of its existence is fairly hazy in the world of creators. But in the world of fiction...? What if? This energy of consciousness exists, whether it's real or not. And if it's not in the real world, as long as there are people who believe in it, then it's in the world of fiction. What if the fruits of the tree of feelings were the material manifestation of this spiritual energy produced by the consciousness of the creators? Just as a world is created by a creative mind, what about Dream and Nightmare were the guardians of the feelings of fiction as the direct embodiment of the emotions that creators instil in their work? This could be the reason why Dreamtale isn't made up of codes, because it's the direct embodiment of a philosophy and not just another fictional universe among many.

I can't decide whether it's too obvious or too far-fetched ^^". It was the concept in Underverse that made me think of it... There are references between what Nightmare implies in 0.6 and creators tearing up their own universes because they're filled with negative emotions. Underverse isn't canon, but there's nothing to stop this idea of the creator,feeling link being applied to Dreamtale.

Especially as it allows us to imagine something even bigger that could work in relation to the three trees...

But before that, a little theory about Corrupted, because the more we learn about him, the more this character becomes... Mysterious.

☁︎ Something is rotten in the state of Dreamtale :

Ever since I knew that the three trees were part not of the Undertale Multiverse but of all the other Multiverses, I've been wondering why it should be Corrupted who embodies absolute Evil and not someone else. After all, we know plenty of evil lords, don't we? Isn't it a bit pretentious to claim him to be above everyone else?

But one detail, one nuance, makes all the difference.

By definition, Corrupted does not embody Evil, but negative feelings. He embodies them because he has become their guardian, their bearer. What I'm trying to say is that black apples and evil are not linked... Black apples are not fundamentally evil. They have no conscience; they are neutral, they exist for balance and have a purpose of their own.

No, Corrupted is Evil for another reason. He's Evil because he's simply wicked. If the personification of negative feelings is evil, it's not because the negative emotions or the apples are mean, but because they are themselves corrupted, alienated by a consciousness that manipulates them irresponsibly. Why would the Entity feel hatred? Hatred and not despair or dread? Because he was already filled with hatred, or because he has a fighting personality that allows him to exploit this emotion for its dark projects. Is it a sign that Corrupted isn't worthy of being their carrier? After all, he's not their basic guardian; it was Nim, then Nightmare.

In this way, that doesn't prevent him from being THE allegory on the scale of all dimensions (or of a large area of dimensions, if you don't like the idea that Dreamtale is linked to all fictional universes) , because the role relating to negative FEELINGS in a neutral behaviour is rather original. He's an allegory of negative feelings that doesn't need to be, and that gives a false image of what negative feelings actually are; the pejorative and common image we have of them. In reality, negative feelings are neither good nor bad; they mean no harm to others. The one who wishes them harm is the Entity, Corrupted.

He's a simple villain who has got his hands on power that doesn't belong to him and is out of control with.

...

Maybe not a 'simple' villain either?

Because, another theory, I think that Corrupted is this fourth guardian that Joku mentioned. Firstly because I don't know who else he could be, but also because he knows about the other dimensions outside Undertale. How would he know if he didn't come from outside? Who else would this fourth guardian be, and why would Joku mention him? What's more, a number of elements fit together with this theory, notably his strategy of manipulating Nim (Nim is far from stupid, and he probably wouldn't have succeeded so easily if he didn't already know a little about her), in order to create Dream and Nightmare, dividing positivity and negativity to undermine the pillars of balance, all with the aim of finding a carnal envelope and taking possession of the Tree of Feelings...

Like a plan that has been fine-tuned for years and years... Add to this the anecdote that the tree guardians are not the original guardians and that Nim learnt something awful about them before leaving for Undertale, and you'd think there was a rotten menace already pulling the strings in the shadows, long before our dear twins were born.

So what is Corrupted looking for? What's his ultimate plan? To spread negativity across all dimensions and reign supreme as a Living God?

A fine programme... But what if we took his ambitions one step further?

☁︎ Feelings, Life, Magic:

Why three trees? Why THESE three trees? Why place them at the centre of the Multiverse? Why are feelings, life and magic at the heart of the worlds? What link can we make between them?

Feelings, well ok, that works... Life and death, logical... Magic? Why magic? Magic isn't a necessary element in the Multiverse, sometimes it doesn't even exist... Why a tree of Magic and not a tree of Souls, or a tree of Virtues and Sins, for example? Undertale is very closely linked to magic, but that's not the case for all worlds...

This is where we come back to the idea that apples are the materialised forms of the feelings creators apply to their work... Does this also work with Magic and Life? Yes, it does. Trees don't just take care of Feelings, Life and Death and Magic... They reflect what creators need to create.

Feelings, as we've said, are exactly what it takes to find inspiration, to feed the imagination like maintain fire. As long as the feelings remain, so do the passion and inspiration.

Life, on the other hand, is quite simply what enables a work to exist, to remain. Life is the nest in which the spirit bathes, gathering together the experiences of the creator, housing and preserving them. You could also say that the more lives there are to witness a work, the more real a work is.

Inspiration, yes... The environment, all right... But what is needed to create something out of nothing? To make the unreal real? The immaterial material?

Nothing more than a little magic ✨ !

Not the kind of magic you find in fiction with wizards and pseudo-scientific logic, no... Magic in the sense of believing in something irrational. To believe that these worlds exist, to have faith without needing proof. Accepting imagination. Not in a religious connotation, but in the sense: Magic = Consenting Suspension of Disbelief.

Feelings: The fuel.

Life: The oxygen.

Magic: The spark.

Fire triangle is complete.

What if these three trees were the equivalent of the Triforce of Creation itself? Feelings to stimulate, Life to sustain, Magic to materialize.

What would happen if, by some mischance, an ill-intentioned person managed to seize the power of these three trees? What would be the consequences? In the end, perhaps this mysterious Entity wants more than just the golden apple in Dream's care?

And if these three trees work very well together, what would the fourth guardian be doing?

Would he be the original guardian?

Or the exact opposite of Creation: Destruction and Nothingness?

(Voilà! I hope theses theories will have interested you ^^ And you, what do you think? Do you have theories about what's going to happen in the Dreamtale sequel?)

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog