#i just don’t know how to phrase things anymore in a way that doesn’t sound fake

[yournowheregirl]

someone please tell me how to find the motivation to write YET ANOTHER motivation letter after being rejected for the billionth time

[starlostseungmin]

stray kids ─── as one direction songs.

✰ pairing : non-idol!skz x afab!reader

✰ genre : fluff, angst, maybe suggestive?

✰ warnings : subtle mentions of sex and drugs, kissing, mentions of food and profanity. lmk if i missed smth.

✰ notes : uhm i really don't know what i wrote. this has been sitting on my drafts since november and thank god anon reminded me about it (i actually went on hiatus after minho's birthday last year so yeah) the songs i associated with skz members are just strongly my opinion mehehe i hope you guys like it, idk if you agree with me in regards with the songs but DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after it! thank you so much <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly

masterlist | taglist.

chan ─── perfect

honorable mention: little things

you already know how fucked up your life is but ever since he came, those days became different. it is always the small gestures that one fails to notice in the blink of an eye. you are just going to be surprised by the time it is done or how you managed to get out of a small inconvenience. he loves you so much that he would put you first before anything else. 

chan is different from everyone else. maybe because he is labeled to be kind and so above average of doing the bare minimum which people seek from their partners. he’s perfect but he doesn’t think of it the same way. 

you tried to convince him a hundred times but all you got in response is him being a blushing mess and his giggle that makes your heart warm every time you hear it. a smile would tug on your lips that would make him stare at you, he’d bounce back on the things you said to him and you think about what did you do in your past life to deserve someone as perfect as him. 

“baby, you’re perfect,” you said for the nth time, “no, i’m not, but i’m perfect for you,” he winked. “that was smooth, chan,”

lee know ─── night changes

he might be the type to not show his feelings immediately but he’s the one who subtly shows them. it started slowly, he reassured you that everything would fall into place once you both could figure out what was going on with this relationship. 

but as long as you’re together, the love you and him shared will never change. although the process of this love story has made things go in different directions, the thought of having to stick together is essential. 

your parents didn’t like him at first, they had someone in mind and that wasn’t him and yet, you didn’t care even if your first date was a disaster and the next one after that, but that didn’t stop you. it took a while for your parents to finally accept him after tons of convincing them that he’s a great guy, but it succeeded later on. 

you had a place on your own and welcomed his cats to live with you when some of them were wild, that’s what you think. minho was a mess when you met him, but thanks to you, it’s not that bad anymore. 

changbin ─── temporary fix

honorable mention: i want to write you a song

changbin is the type to offer himself as someone you can lean on but it’s not always because of this friendship you have, but as a lover who wanted to make you feel better and forget about shit. 

temporary fix is not always meant to be a cover-up of something you’d open up again to allow another train of bullshits in your life. it felt like he was being sent from the heavens to look out for you, an angel whose sole mission is to make you happy, the same feeling like something that keeps you high. 

there’s this thing on changbin’s vibe that you don’t want to share with anybody else and he makes you feel things when you’re with him. even though this relationship sounds like a fling and a guy who sneaks into your dorm late at night to make out with you, well, it used to be. but you know changbin is so much more than that after a while. 

the phrase, “you can call me when you need me, you know?” whenever he sleeps with you is now in the trashbin the moment you settle to be someone to each other.

hyunjin ─── last first kiss 

remember the time when he said that he chose to be the last love instead of the first? exactly. being the last person to love is basically spending the rest of your life with him, even if he’s not your first kiss, not your first love, not your first in everything, it’s fine as long as he’ll be the one you’ll remember as your eternal love. 

hyunjin being fitted into this song is like a message that he wanted to convey to his love, a sentiment that would indicate how much he’d spend time and effort to stay by your side until the end of time. indeed, a hopeless romantic man he is. 

last first kiss is the very first song that reminds you of him, it is part of those memories you made with him. it was that time when he decided to take this relationship to the next level, yes, he did mention that he wanted to be your last, and by what he meant, an everlasting love. 

“let me be your last,” and when you heard him say that, you knew he was the man who fits perfectly into your broken puzzle that would mend the wound forever.

han ─── rock me

honorable mention: midnight memories

rock me suits him as well as midnight memories. but midnight memories have their effects on han, giving him the vibes of being a musician specializing in the rock genre. and as someone who loves to listen to almost every genre in the world, you fell in love with him after watching him busking by the streets. 

you were amazed by how talented he is. his fingers strummed that guitar well, and his voice? like an angel. one could say that he is a free-spirited human being who does whatever he wants and writes songs about some things that piqued his interest. 

then there’s you, a broken melody who longed for him to come back, the same goes for him who let you go. both of you thought that you were too young to be in love and jisung was better off alone but his songs were dedicated to your break up. you rocked his world when you came and left broken notes when it ended.

but he always believed that what you had back then, was real and that you’d always remember the love you had. 

felix ─── why don’t we go there 

honorable mention: kiss you

felix is someone who gets hyped easily whenever you’re with him. his bright smile, his funny reactions, and the unidentified sounds that came out of his mouth made him a fun guy to be with. it started with a fling that turned out to be something you didn’t want to rush but it is slowly beginning to have a label. 

having a relationship with him offered different dynamics. it is the way he grabs your hand when you both start to get caught by the waves crashing by the shore or how he felt when you kissed him for the first time. he is someone who can get dragged with you to whatever your plan is, a great ball of sunshine to your rainy days, someone that you don’t want to be the one that got away. 

he does think the same, especially the fact that he treasures you so much and it became an opportunity to love you more when you spend that one night together somewhere, alone. it was an invitation actually and it made you realize a lot of things. 

it is the way he looked at those stars with those dazzling eyes of his. the constellation plastered on his cheeks glowed along with them, it is what they call freckles, you love them as much as how felix felt for you. having him as a getaway made you don’t want to come back, ever again.

seungmin ─── no control

night changes was the first choice but then no control became the one for him, no control, because he is, a menace. he believed that being in love was something that gullible people would do and get hurt, maybe a few of them proved it to be valid and worth it, yet he isn’t convinced because it is just a waste of time. 

and yet, you came out of nowhere. it is the way he looks at you with those dazzling puppy eyes, the way he obeys the things you wanted him to do, and it gets worse when you share intimate affections. from a gentle puppy to a wild wolf. there’s something about you that drives him crazy every time. 

nothing matters to him when you’re around and he never felt this way before. he’d kiss you out of nowhere when you reached home with your back against the wall as your hands played with his hair. he gets weak and powerless, but gets hyped and rough which you get caught off guard every time. 

and he is very loyal, he always makes sure that no other will ever meet his interest. you don’t want to share, anyway and you got him down bad.

jeongin ─── summer love

honorable mention: fool's gold.

loving jeongin is like a breath of fresh air, the freedom that he finally held in his hands, and the time he can make up for himself to be with you. it was a reckless summer that you spent in your grandma’s place, away from the bustling city and this boy showed up on your doorsteps. 

it didn’t take a while that you immediately had this puppy love type of interest in each other. you started sneaking out in the middle of the night when your grandma was in her deep sleep, swimming together by the river across the small town on a random afternoon, sharing a kiss under an oak tree that tasted like your grandma’s apple pie, it was great. you didn’t want it to end. 

and just like any other summer, it did. you didn’t know if you would still have this continuous conversation when the school year starts since jeongin is miles away from where you live. 

you saw him sitting on one of those branches of the oak tree where you kissed for the first time, and there you promised not to lose each other even if the summer ended. you couldn’t believe that what you did for less than two months was this serious. it was hard to say goodbye, yet you hoped nothing would change after the last summer’s sunset.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[9w1ft]

Interested to hear your interpretation on Suburban Legends

first off the song and beat sounds so similar to mastermind and gold rush. particularly mastermind. listen to the opening seconds back to back! she sings through a lot of it similarly in my opinion

and it has some of the similar mechanics of mastermind in that it leads you to believe the song is going one way but then pulls a switcheroo on you at the end and the swell in the music aids that at the end which makes it a really sweet and emotional listening experience. i’ll get to that in a second.

i think at the beginning of taylor knowing or being aware of karlie (so like, your kitchen or mine times), this was very much the situation. karlie is in her peripheral vision (on her radar) but just as taylor described in gold rush, karlie seemed like something utterly unattainable. in lover as well we get the line “i’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you” and i think this fits with this description of karlie.

i didn’t come here to make friends echoes their entire conceit of mastermind, and a lot of the kaylor discography that uses the word ‘friend’ — another way to say “i don’t want you like a best friend” etc

also this is a sort of throwaway point but “i didn’t come here to make friends” was a 2000’s reality tv phrase that came into popularity via the show America’s Next Top Model. it was iconic and soon every competitive reality tv show under the sun had contestants saying it.. but it’s origins are from a show about models! of which karlie is one.

more importantly, the “you kiss me in a way that’s gonna screw me up forever” is like the follow up to the gold rush “eyes like sinking ships on waters so inviting i almost jump in” language. it’s cruel summer’s “snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate” because falling in love with karlie lead to taylor wanting her complications too

mismatched star signs works because fire signs traditionally match best with air signs. also visually, stars mismatched fits in with mastermind’s “the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned” — things that weren’t in alignment coming into alignment.

there’s a bunch of story page chapter stuff throughout taylor’s discography, some of which makes its way into kaylor but i’d probably write for way too long so i’m just gonna skip over that for now

this part might be a bit tricky but i sort of blame it on many kaylors not talking that much about really early kaylor possibilities out of (a sort of unearned) respect and the one way street principle of staying in our lane but the idea of taylor saying “i know that when you told me we’d get back together and kissed me that you remember[ed] we were born to be national treasures” isn’t that too wild of a statement if you imagine them as maybe briefly connecting or talking at some point before taylor made her plans to make karlie hers. indeed, we know their paths crossed several times before they were first connected at the 2013 vs fashion show.

*for posterity, i included the apple music lyrics as the genius lyrics appear to be worded partially incorrectly

this is the part of the song which i just think is so beautifully done. in particular i love the “you don’t knock anymore” of it all

at first it sounds like she’s saying karlie doesn’t knock anymore because she come around anymore, or this idea of there having been a breakup or a period of not being together or something sad, which is matched by the tone of how she sings it for the first time. the waves crashing to the shore feels like a storm.

but at the end of the repetition her voice becomes more upbeat and it dawns on you, you’re like, oh wait karlie doesn’t knock anymore because she doesn’t need to knock anymore, she has a key! (“is that your key in the door?” anyone?)

and suddenly the waves meeting the shore is a pleasant image of unification and happiness. she closes with the thought “you don’t knock anymore and i always knew it” which makes it feel a bit more like mastermind’s “you knew the entire time, and now you’re mine” — always knowing they would get together, taylor always knowing karlie was the one. “and my life had been ruined” is sung in a sort of sweet resignation, one that i find throughout a lot of kaylor music, the idea that she knows its complicated but that its what she chose.

so yeah! that’s why suburban legends is a kaylor song to me 😌

[bleedingoptimism]

The Stray

part two

Steve, blushingly furiously, asks Max to take over pancake duty so he can put on a shirt.

And Eddie is both thankful and devastated about it until Steve comes back… and he’s wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and fuck, that makes it so much worse.

He’s always had a thing for guys wearing his clothes and Steve looks so fucking pretty with an old and tattered shirt from his first tour.

Steve catches Eddie staring at him and blushes again, “Sorry, I'm wearing you aren’t I?” 

‘Uhg why would you phrase it like that? That sounds so good. Yes. Please. Wear me.’

Eddie shakes his head and smiles at their guest, “Nah, it’s fine dude, you can do me whene- Wear me! I mean- wear my clot- Stop laughing Max, you little shit! I slept like two hours, okay?”

The three of them share a laugh and then, with all of their plates full, Max starts telling Eddie how she met Steve and the circumstances that got her to invite him over.

Eddie listens and starts thinking, shit, maybe he shouldn’t trust Max to be alone for such long periods of time. He worries about her, always has. But Max has always been independent and so fucking stubborn, toeing the line between proving how responsible she was and disobedience.

He tries to keep an eye on her as much as she lets him, he trusts Max to commute to college alone, to hit the skate park at any hour of the day. She used to get into fights at high school but went to therapy for her anger issues and doesn’t do it anymore.

He trusts her with her boyfriend. Or more accurately, he trusts her boyfriend. It took Max two whole months to tell Eddie she was dating someone and another two months to finally introduce them. And not because she was worried about what Eddie might think of him, oh no. 

She was worried Eddie would think Lucas was too good for her. Too pure. That she would corrupt him. (She was right about Lucas being too pure but Eddie would never think someone could be too good for her. In his opinion, she deserved every bit of good that came her way.)

So really, befriending a street performer sounded like something right up her alley but, taking a homeless man in…

Not that he can blame her, he thinks as he watches Steve shyly biting a pancake and getting progressively redder as Max dives into an action-packed story of him beating up three men to save her.

He knows Max like the back of his hand and knows exactly where she’s going when she talks about how kind, smart, and talented her friend is so he’s not surprised when she asks, “Can he stay with us for a while?”

“No, absolutely not.”

It’s not him who answers, but Steve. He’s shaking his head and looking at Max with big eyes, “I couldn’t possibly. I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer, I-”

“Oh, shut up Steve, don’t play hard to get. You have nowhere else to go! Just say yes.”

Steve seems to shrink into himself and looks between Max and Eddie, who gives him a little encouraging smile.

“What are you going to do?” Max presses.

Steve blinks at them sadly and he looks so much like a kicked puppy Eddie wants to make Max back off and hold him, so he stuffs his mouth with pancakes before he says something stupid.

“...I don't know,” Steve answers after a second, and Max huffs as if she is dealing with a child.

“Do you have anyone you could call?” Eddie asks him curious.

Steve’s shoulders tense for a second before he smiles apologetically, “Not anyone I’d want to find out about my… Situation”

“That settles it then!” Max says and claps her hands loudly making Eddie jump, he really did sleep two hours and he wants to go to bed now. Maybe Steve would be up for cuddles? Okay, no. He needs to go to sleep right now before his brain gets any more dumb ideas.

“You can stay in the guest room Wayne and mom use when they come over, no biggie. And don’t worry I’m not gonna let you stay here for free! You’ll chaperone me to school and the skate park and can do the groceries and cook while you look for a proper job! If anything I’ll be taking advantage of you and not the other way around,” Max tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Steve looks between the both of them once more before sighing and nodding once, a small smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine prettily.

He blinks a couple of times, his eyes looking wetter with every blink and he clears his throat and excuses himself going to the living room where his beat-up duffle bag and guitar case are, pretending to be tying things up while clearly drying his tears.

Eddie’s heart clenches for him but he looks at Max and shakes his head at her, “You know, your mom warned me once about me getting home one day and finding you with a stray puppy but,” he lifts his hand and points in Steve’s general direction, “That’s a grown-ass man.”

Max smirks at him, “Nah,” she says, taking Eddie’s plate and hers and starting to clean up after Steve, “He’s a puppy.”

to be continued!

part 1: 🎸

part 2: you are here!

part 3: 📓

part 4: 💝

coffee?☕🥐💕

[crash-and-cure]

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself. 

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping.  Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder. 

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one. 

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest. 

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever. 

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” 

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling. 

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly. 

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things. 

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic. 

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there. 

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here. 

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe. 

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more. 

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls. 

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand. 

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!” 

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence. 

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it. 

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed. 

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him. 

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more. 

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it. 

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be. 

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years. 

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel. 

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time. 

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group. 

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work. 

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off. 

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break. 

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again. 

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom. 

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it. 

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food. 

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence. 

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go. 

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying. 

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile. 

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act. 

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking. 

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech. 

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway. 

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show. 

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you. 

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration. 

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional. 

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there. 

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there. 

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months. 

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.” 

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened. 

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially. 

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that. 

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time. 

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone. 

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at. 

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security. 

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible. 

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.” 

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you. 

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name. 

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you. 

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed. 

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly. 

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.” 

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window. 

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly. 

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.” 

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.” 

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.” 

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense. 

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.” 

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear. 

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his. 

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt. 

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you. 

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around. 

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put. 

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again. 

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it. 

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next. 

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice. 

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left. 

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid. 

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you. 

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity. 

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment. 

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”  

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door. 

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.” 

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.  

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator. 

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in. 

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment. 

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you. 

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished. 

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

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[petrichormore]

So about 4halo “dying…”

I’m watching the clip where Forever shows Baghera the book and supposedly “friendzones” Bad because I didn’t actually see the full thing and… why did people think the ship is dead? (I know Forever apparently revived it hours later but bear with me).

Because from where I’m standing, it’s perfectly fine? It’s been more dead in the past. So let’s break the scene down:

(Scene Analysis under cut - I felt like I was watching something straight out of a romcom movie. Also the following is about the CHARACTERS)

So. Forever shows Baghera the book and Baghera asks if he feels the same way. Forever says, “There’s a problem, Baghera - I love him back. (Pause) I love him back, but as a friend.”

Baghera goes “really?” because she’s skeptical and Forever claims that his “heart can’t take it anymore.” (Obviously in reference to Philza breaking it.) He then goes on to say that “After what happened to Philza, I think [thought] I had enough of it.”

I’d like to pause here to point out that at no point in this conversation does Forever sound confident in what he’s saying - he’s uncharacteristically shaken and unsure throughout. He uses phrases like “I thought” and “I’m trying” instead of “I know” and “I am” which imply uncertainty. He phrases his statements like questions, as though he doesn’t know what’s going on in his own mind.

Anyway, Forever says he likes Bad “as a friend” but his reasoning is literally just “I’m not ready for this right now” which… makes no sense to say if the first statement is true. If you aren’t interested in someone, you probably don’t justify by claiming you aren’t ready - because it’s just a fact relating to the other person. Saying “Oh there’s a big problem - I like this person as a friend because my heart can’t take the pain of heartbreak anymore!” Like. That doesn’t really make sense, does it?

He also tries to bring up a conversation dramatrio had a while back about how friendship is better (based, btw) - but to me it honestly just sounds as though he’s trying to convince himself rather than making a statement. Again, he sounds very confused. In response, Baghera points out that “not everyone is happy” with just friendship.

Forever also seems to be just generally confused with Bad’s behavior, as he sees it as uncharacteristic (which it is) and therefore disingenuous. This actually seems to be the main source of distress for him: whether or not Bad actually loves him. He talks to Baghera about how he doesn’t even know if it’s real because it’s so unlike Bad - Baghera agrees that it’s strange coming from Bad, but she believes Richarlyson when he says the book is genuine. Forever doesn’t, and later on in the stream he apparently reveals that he doesn’t understand how Bad could love him in a romantic sense and doesn’t want to be drawn in to something that might not be real? (Maybe???) As Forever is still streaming, I can’t go over it but I will when I can. Either way, this doesn’t seem like the type of worry a person who doesn’t reciprocate any romantic feelings would have? Like cool story bro but this really shouldn’t be relevant if your only feelings are platonic?

And Baghera? Baghera literally notices this! She sees Forever’s indecisiveness and says “Okay, but if you don’t like him like that, well, it’s not a question, you know?” She calls him out on it directly.

And Forever doesn’t acknowledge it at all. He just moves on and says that if Bad had approached him when he first joined, he would’ve been delighted to add another boyfriend in alongside Philza [Specifically, he brings up a song about Snow White and the phrase ‘Why have just one when I could have seven?] This, while funny as hell, has nothing to do with the conversation and it honestly comes across as Forever trying to examine his own feelings and failing miserably.

Baghera asks “So you’re sure you don’t want anything to happen with Bebou?”

Forever responds “yeah” and then immediately follows it up with “The problem is that after what happened, I’m really…” So ‘yeah’ is not an actual answer here, just a transitional word. (And again, notice the strange justification. The problem apparently not a lack of romantic attraction?)

Baghera follows that up by asking if Forever doesn’t want a relationship with Bad because he has been hurt by his previous ‘relationship’, or because he has no romantic interest in Bad specifically. Forever… doesn’t answer. He says, “Yeah, that’s a good question because I don’t even know if he likes me like that, or if he just loves me as a friend.” Once again, ‘yeah’ is not an answer, just a transition. Congratulations, Forever, you specified exactly nothing.

And thennnnn Forever is back to being worried over whether or not Bad likes him or like-likes him (it’s like they’re all gossiping 10 year olds hehe). He’s scared to ask him directly because he doesn’t want to “hurt him” (by ‘him’, I mean BBH) but it really just sounds like he’s a goddamn coward (affectionate) and is using that as an excuse. Especially since he phrases it like a question.

Baghera decides to take pity on him and offers to sneakily question Bad about it and then report back, which Forever immediately agrees to (it’s the most enthusiastic he sounds during the entire conversation). Forever than says that he really wants to “know what is happening” and to “take care of Badboy because he’s really important to me” (?? We all know, Forever, but okay cool I guess?? /j)

He finishes by reasserting (to himself, mostly) that he doesn’t want a relationship specifically because he’s trying to focus on his career, family, and friends (and because Philza broke his heart). He never says that he has no romantic interest in Bad besides the very first “as a friend” comment, and, in fact, somehow avoids saying it even when Baghera asks him directly to his face!

He honestly gives every reason for not wanting to be in a relationship except for “I’m not interested in the other person.” Like that’s the one thing he doesn’t say.

So. Take that however you will.

[batwynn]

Some examples of stims I did while growing up until I was forced to stop each one by an adult in my life:

Humming/whistling

Copying bird whistles

Chewing on my hair

Chewing on pens/pen caps/pencils/etc.

Matching a sound from around me

Repeating words/phrases frequently

Making ‘weird’ sounds with my mouth

Tapping something/tapping a finger or foot

Singing what I was doing

Blinking in patterns

Constant doodling

And undoubtably more that I don’t even remember.

The result of being forced to stop stimming no matter what stim I tried:

Constantly anxious. Constantly.

I started picking at my skin and pulling out my hair.

More outbursts and/or more shut downs.

I formed a stutter under even the smallest amount of stress.

I became less social. Didn’t talk as much. Didn’t feel comfortable communicating to anyone.

I was markedly less happy.

Restless and unable to focus because stimming helped me work with my ADHD side as well.

Confusion, hurt, and isolation because I was then aware that I was ‘weird’.

I formed a huge distrust of adults around me, including family. Which lead to me getting in trouble for not ‘respecting authority’. (Aka: I asked questions and didn’t take what everyone said as a fact.)

I developed depression.

Oh, and I was still bullied for being ‘weird’ so stopping stimming didn’t even help that. Surprise!

Eventual outcome as an autistic adult:

Constant anxiety that I often can’t source and don’t know how to sooth anymore.

No self soothing techniques work or feel ‘natural’ anymore.

I lean heavily on disassociation to get through the day and/or during stressful moments.

I’m accused of faking it, lying, etc. by people because I learned to mask my autistic traits as best as possible.

Frequently don’t have the language for when I’m overwhelmed, and frequently misunderstood when I try to explain that something is bothering me like fabric texture or sounds.

Treated like I’m incompetent, a child, or a collection of both if I don’t behave ‘perfectly’.

Talked down to a lot.

Still picking at my skin and pulling out my hair. 🥲

Constantly feel like I’m lying about who I am/ frequent identity crisis and impostor syndrome mix up.

Trouble with relationships/friendships to different extremes. (Ex: I was groomed as a kid/teen and didn’t know until I was in my late 20s. Have trouble keeping friendships because I just don’t know how to interact with people the ‘right way’.)

I had to teach myself a lot of ‘regular’ social cues and behaviors by mimicking people around me. That unfortunately doesn’t alway work, and/or comes with accidentally mimicking a personality trait/quark/etc. which leads to people thinking your mocking them or copying them.

A lot of rage for the people who treated me like shit my entire life for being autistic.

Moments of feeling very small and childish when things are out of my control.

Feeling guilty/uncomfortable about some things I like because they’re considered childish. (Ex: stuffed animals.)

Fear of any and all interactions with strangers. Fear of not being able to predict where the conversation will go. Fear of extreme negative reactions even when it doesn’t seem realistic for that to happen.

And more that are so ingrained in my life that I don’t even recognize them anymore.

I can’t not think about how my life could have turned out if those adults had let me be comfortably autistic. I can literally see physical differences in old photos of me, where I just stopped being me. Where the happiness and honesty were bullied out of me. And were my stims and behaviors that bothersome? No, actually. I had already learned to do different stims in different environments so I wasn’t being noisy when I needed to be quiet etc. But that wasn’t good enough, so every stim and every ‘weird’ behavior had to stop. Why? Because these adults had a power over me and other children like me, and they liked to abuse it.

It’s abuse. The end.

[kymantruther]

cupid ye was more kyman than it was style

seeing as south park episodes aren’t gonna come until march, this gives me the time to talk about cupid ye…which i’ve wanted to after the episode came out but i figured i wouldn’t have enough time to. so i really planned this analysis to be after all the episodes were made for s26…but again seeing as they’re on break, i took my chances.

so this is the perfect time for me to talk about cupid ye and how the episode always read more kyman than style to me. this may sound absurd considering the episode phrases stan and kyle’s relationship in a romantic way, but i find that’s all it extends to. let’s review the episode for a bit so i can elaborate. sure, the phrasing implies some sort of romance between stan and kyle, and there’s even a scene where stan is stammering and love struck when kyle talks to him. But we don’t ever see stan act upon this. notice how throughout the entire episode stan NEVER confronts kyle about how he misses hanging out with him? i see people call kyle a bad friend for “ditching” him, but it’s a notion i never got. stan never said anything to kyle about it, kyle’s not a bad friend for wanting to have fun with someone else, it’s not ditching in the slightest (unless you’re going to try and actually imply kyle belongs to stan and should only be around him 24/7). how was kyle supposed to know stan felt this way? he was having fun with tolkien, kyle’s suddenly villain for having fucking fun??? i can only blame stan in this situation because all he did was avoid the problem and act like it didn’t affect him (when it did).

even at the end of the episode, he only confronts tolkien not kyle. this just signifies to me there’s a clear communication problem in stan and kyle’s friendship. for an unknown reason, stan doesn’t want to address things with kyle. with this fact in mind, that scene where stan is nervous to talk to kyle at lunch suddenly doesn’t look so cute anymore, in fact, it demonstrates a legitimately problem of stan’s.

it’s no wonder stan and kyle’s friendship is breaking off, stan can’t even discuss his feelings with kyle. he does nothing but mope around and feel sorry for himself when he could literally fix the problem if he talked to his super best friend.

but opposed that to cartman in this episode. what does cartman do in the episode when he realizes he did something wrong? he acts. he realizes he’s gone way too far with the rumor about kyle running hollywood and he actually does something about it. sure, stan can stand in front of kyle to protect him (which tolkien did too so even that’s not a style moment lol) but cartman’s the one who forced cupid ye (arguably himself) to take his meds to save kyle.

cartman got kyle in this mess but he got kyle out of it.

and let’s talk about the initial synopsis for the episode too.

the synopsis says cartman is jealous. watching the ep, it appears stan is jealous, and he is. so why would it say cartman is jealous? because cartman is projecting. cartman ordinarily doesn’t care if stan and kyle have a fallout, actually he typically relishes in them. but that’s only because he gets kyle to himself (ex: assburgers, cbaa). but this time, tolkien and kyle hang out. so cartman takes stan’s jealousy and acts like he’s doing it for stan and his friendship with kyle, but in reality he’s doing it because he’s jealousy. just as the synopsis says.

and i don’t think it’s a coincidence cupid me, cartman’s gay conscious, is in this episode about cartman being jealous of tolkien and kyle’s friendship. in their valentine’s day episode at that ;).

so to summarize, it’s incredibly surface level to say this episode was style. this episode was kyman to the core and just furthers the theory that cartman is in love with kyle.

[star--joy]

Inspire

Vex doesn't understand why Percy keeps giving her arrows, but she's sure there's some ulterior motive to the whole ordeal.

-

Prompt: “You really inspire me.” (creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/673924497584291840)

-

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Arguments

Words: 1644

Originally posted: 8/11/23

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49274167

The first arrow was a simple thing.

Well, that’s not true. The first arrow was complex in construction, delicate and complicated enough that it kept Percy tinkering for weeks. Crafting one that explodes upon impact is no small feat. In that way, it hadn’t been simple at all.

Perhaps a better way to phrase it is this: the first arrow was nothing important.

Yes, Vex was pleased to have such a weapon at her disposal, and yes, she was flattered that Percy spent so much time creating it, but that was it. A small gift between friends.

Except not much time passed before the second arrow was presented to her. Similar to the first, but more fine-tuned, according to Percy.

Well, fine. Vex can handle that. She knows how their gunslinger likes to perfect his inventions, to improve them until they can’t be anymore. That’s what she’d assumed it was. He’d simply wanted to create it for his own benefit.

The third arrow, yet another advancement, was considered the same.

Sometime around the fourth one, however, Vex hears a warning bell sound off in a deep corner of her mind.

“It’s a siege arrow,” Percy explains, ignorant to her sudden caution as he hands her the weapon. “Maybe now we’ll have more luck getting through doors.”

“Indeed,” she hums, testing the feel and weight of it, though her mind is elsewhere. “Thank you, Percy. I have to say, you’ve been spoiling me with all these gifts.”

The unspoken question of why hangs over her head, but apparently, it goes unheard to the gunslinger. He just grins. “Yes, well. I do hope you enjoy them.”

And then, just like that, he’d walks away. Vex watches his retreating form, lip caught between her teeth, before retreating back to her room for a night’s rest. Sleep does not come easy as she ponders the motives of his kindness.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh arrows come and go, each one sparking more confusion in Vex. Barely a week ever goes by without a new creation finding its way into her hands, and a part of her is going mad with it. If he wants something so desperately, why doesn’t he just come out and ask? Percy never struck her as particularly manipulative, at least to his friends, so why the fuck is he desperately trying to suck up to her?

Perhaps he had done something terrible, and this is his way of apologizing. Yet even then, Vex can’t figure out what he might have done to warrant such profuse gifting.

Well, she’s done with it. No more beating around the bush. Steps firm and steady, she finds herself marching down to his workshop, fully intending to put this whole ordeal to an end.

Percy meets her halfway down the stairs, another fucking arrow in his hands. “Oh, Vex, I was just about to come find you,” he says.

Vex looks down at the arrow in his hands, looks up at his proud expression, then grabs him by the collar of his soot-covered work shirt and drags him down into the workshop once more. Percy yelps. “What in the hells—?”

“What are you playing at?” Vex demands, all her careful composure thrown out with the force of her frustration. “What’s the goal here? And don’t lie to me, Percival. I’m not in the mood.”

Slowly, he reaches up to fix his shirt collar from where Vex had snatched it. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Have I done something?”

“You know what I’m talking about! What do you want? Money, is that it? You want me to be looser with your funds? Fucking— fine! Here,” she snarls, unclipping her personal coin purse and chucking it at his feet. The anger coursing through her is more potent than it’s been in years, boiling her very blood in a way that’s almost alarming. Percy has no right to play her for a fool. Vex thought he’d respected her more than that, but apparently she was wrong, and it fucking hurts.

Percy stares at the coin purse on the ground, mouth open and eyes wide. “Vex, I— are you alright?” He’s stepping closer, arrow still in hand but long-forgotten. 

“I’m fine. Take your money. And next time, just ask. Don’t play these games with me.” Her voice is wavering and she hates it, hates how much she cares.

“What in Pelor’s name are you talking about?!” he asks, sounding so genuinely baffled that it gives her pause. Then, “Vex’ahlia… Vex, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Teeth grinding together, Vex snaps, “The fucking arrows, Percy! I don’t appreciate your bribery.”

Percy looks at her, looks at the arrow in his hand, looks at the coin pouch on the ground. His face twists, but not with guilt or anger. Instead, he just adopts the expression of a kicked puppy, all furrows and pouted lips. “Bribery? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You’re denying it?” Vex asks, arms crossing over her chest as if that could shield her from the way his sadness is wringing her heart.

His mouth opens and closes several times. Slowly, he picks up the coin purse and hands it back to her. “I apologise. I hadn’t realised that you— that I was giving that impression.”

Vex twitches. She couldn’t have been wrong. What other reason would he have to be so fucking kind to her? And, Gods above, if she is wrong, then why is he handling it like this? “What impression were you trying to give, then?”

Percy’s hand ruffles through his hair. When he speaks, it’s little more than a murmur. “It’s— I spent a long time creating things out of anger, Vex. Horrible things that I had no right to invent.” It’s clear that each of his words is chosen with a great deal of thought. He won’t look at her.

Stepping forward, Vex lets her hands uncross from her chest and fall to her side. “So, what, is this some kind of penance? Your way of apologizing?”

His jaw flexes. “No. It’s more selfish than that, I’m afraid. I… when I made the things I did, the firearms, I was inspired by rage. When I make arrows for you, it’s different. Rage isn’t my inspiration.”

“What is?” she asks, breath held.

He looks up at her, all gentle and sad. “You are. You really inspire me to create something better. To be something better.”

Oh.

Vex swallows, breaking his gaze to stare at the arrow in his hand. Her heart withers with guilt as the reality of the situation sinks in. Gods, she’d been screaming at him, accusing him of such terrible things, when his whole motivation was that? “I’m— Fuck, I’m such a dick. I’m sorry,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have been more clear with my intentions—”

“Shut up, you did nothing wrong. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I assumed—”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Vex’ahlia,” Percy interjects, voice still quiet, but with a firm, passionate undertone. His footsteps approach, and then his hands are gently pulling hers away from her face, exposing her distressed expression. “Of all people, I understand not knowing what to do with kindness.”

Vex breathes in, inhaling his unique scent of soap and metal. He’s very close, and she feels utterly exposed to his eyes, but it’s not such a horrible feeling when he understands. “Percy… do you still want to make the arrows? I understand if you don’t, but… I really do love them.”

His lips curve into a smile. “I’ll make as many as you want.”

And then, somehow, their lips are connecting. Vex doesn’t who leaned in for the kiss first, or if they were both in sync, but either way, it’s wonderful. Soft and slow, like nothing she’s ever experienced.

Her hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, idly stroking through the baby hairs there, smiling against his lips when he melts into her touch. His own hand is on the small of her back, holding her close to him, thumb rubbing mindless patterns.

“That was…” Percy whispers when they finally break apart for air, coming to rest their foreheads together. “Wonderful.”

Vex laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Agreed. Do you think you can pull yourself away from the workshop for the rest of the day? I would like to spend some time apologizing for… everything. I really am sorry.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Vex.”

“I’d still like to make it up to you. However you like. Besides, I’m not exactly getting the short end of the stick here, darling. Your company is a lovely bonus.”

Percy’s throat bobs. “I would enjoy a dinner with you, if you’re offering. But I don’t want you to do it as a payment, or an apology.”

Vex sighs, pushing through her instincts in order to be honest, peel back some of her armor, exposing her vulnerable underside. “That’s not what this is. Not in your case, anyway. I… I care for you, Percy, and I am going to keep apologizing for a little while, because I feel really fucking bad. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t also enjoy a dinner together. Genuinely”

His smile is radiant as he leans down to kiss her once more, if briefly. “Alright. I’ll ask Laina to cook something for us. There’s not much privacy to be had in the dining room, but we’ll make do—”

“Oh, don’t be silly. My room is big enough for us both. Meet me there with the food, yeah? Don’t keep me waiting,” Vex hums, pressing one last teasing kiss to the corner of Percy’s lips, quite enjoying his blush as she flutters out of his workshop. 

She’s sure of one thing: this is going to be a lovely dinner.

[bringthekaos]

You know that phrase, " There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.'"

The first time Jayce experimented the third one was the first time he actually feared Viktor. Like, cold sweat, paralized, mouth dry kind of fear.

(Also a little horny)

Hahaha Jayce be like

FR though, Jayce being torn between mortification and hornification is like… my bread and butter. That knee-jerk reaction of just… “oh my god!!! …. oh my god, am I into this? Oh god, I’m into this…”

And I don’t think he’ll truly experience Viktor’s anger, I’m talking fire-breathing rage, until he’s the Machine Herald. I think in the events that lead up to his exile, Viktor will still be reeling. He’ll be numb and in shock that this is happening, how could this happen, how could Jayce turn on me like this? There just won’t be room for the wrath yet, he’ll still be processing it.

And it’s a strange thing, witnessing the Machine Herald… an angry Machine Herald for the first time, because it doesn’t translate like most people’s anger would. His emotions are suppressed, so instead it reads as cold, detached, and almost inhuman. He bears down on Jayce like a runaway freight train, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate. He truly tries to hurt Jayce in that first confrontation, might even be trying to kill him. And Jayce is caught off guard, thinks surely he wouldn’t, not Viktor, not my Viktor…

But he’s not Jayce’s Viktor anymore, he’s something new and haunting, and Jayce doesn’t know what he feels anymore—it looks like anger, sounds like it… but it’s almost like Viktor feels nothing at all as he fires the Hexclaw right at Jayce.

And that’s the first time he’s truly afraid of Viktor. He’s never been before, he’s always held out hope that somewhere, deep down and buried beneath layer after layer of metal, that same soft, kind man is in there. But when the Hexclaw singes through his flesh, cauterizing as it burns; when Jayce screams in agony and stumbles back; when Viktor doesn’t react at all and just stomps closer, aiming the Claw again…

In the moment, there was only room for fear, for self-preservation. For the grief of realizing oh my god, what if my Viktor really is gone? But later on, in the privacy of his own home—bandages on his skin and on his ego—something awakens that he doesn’t quite understand. He finds that thinking about the fight, thinking of how truly dangerous Viktor was… it makes him excited. It makes him want to do it again, and he’s not sure if it’s just his bruised ego wishing for a rematch, or if it’s… something else. Something forbidden and primal, something that yearns to be stoked but can’t be spoken of in Piltover society. It consumes and confuses him, this obsession with that feeling—I was scared, so why do I want it to happen again? He could kill me as easy as breathing, why… why do I want to let him? And he knows there’s probably some psychological explanation a therapist could give him, something about wanting to be punished for his mistakes, and wanting said punishment to come from the person he hurt the most. But he doesn’t think too hard on that, after all introspection is the luxury of a younger man. Now he just tries to accept that this is the way things are now, best just try to come to terms with it.

And he does. He fabricates reasons to fight Viktor, seeks him out and antagonizes him. Because if he can’t defeat the beast within himself, he might as well feed it.

[ohisms]

↪     𝑯𝑶𝑳𝒀 𝑾𝑨𝑹  .    (  a  collection  of  sentence  starters  from  S4  of  syfy’s  wynonna  earp .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .  )

still not looking at your ass .

does it hurt ?

a first - aid kit ,  yeah ... that’s something we should have ,  right ?

what kind of psychopath doesn’t use a pen ?

come voluntarily or you’ll be taken by force .

is that why you’ve been so moody and unpredictable ?

absorbent is as absorbent does .

well ,  that’s a felony .

you could’ve killed me !

it’s nice to see a familiar face .

i need to find  [ name ] .

a little help ,  please .

when i find [ name ] ,  i am gonna torture her .

you’re alright now .

[ name ] ,  you came .

[ name ] ,  i need you to come with me .

i don’t even get where you’re going .

you PROMISED you’d be honest .

let me have a sip of thinking juice ,  here .

what aren’t you telling me ?

so you also lied to me about NOT lying ??

i need to atone for my recent history .

we’ve all done bad things to each other .

you’re being forgetful .  or kind .

next time someone has to risk their lives ,  YOU’RE IT !

god ,  you are such a ...

i would do literally anything to keep her safe .

sometimes life is a real backpack of balls .

i am so serious ,  shut your mouth .

if you die ,  i’ll kill you !

don’t you know how dangerous this is ?

i swore to protect you .

listen ,  we can help each other ,  alright ?

is everything a sex joke to you ?

who’s a girl gotta screw around here to get a gun ?

that sounds kinda lesbian .

[ name ] ,  how could you ?

i’ll show you how it’s done .

you’re stronger than i expected .

i told you ,  i’m leaving .

[ name ] ,  what the hell ?!

are you real ?

something  here  is  pretty  off .

we’ll  think  a  little  better  with  some  fire  in  our  bellies .

say your piece ,  [ name ] .

it’s just so good to be home .

who are you ?

i thought i’d be safe in here .

the only place scarier than in here ,  is out there .

i didn’t mean it like that .  not at all .

please don’t say you’re sorry anymore .  you don’t need to be .

vacation’s over ,  assholes !

please tell me everyone’s okay ,  [ name ] .

what really happened to  [ name ] ?

i know i let everyone down .

i hope that means there’s no hard feelings .

as you all know ,  i excel at having opinions .

i wish i knew what we were up against .

don’t yell at me .

home - brewed mold juice will NOT defeat pure evil !

at first i thought it was irrelevant ,  but then i figured it out .

what does a  [ last name ]  know about keeping their word ?

there’s been enough crime today .

[ name ] ,  what’s going on ?

why do i taste skunk ?

that would get my slacks off in a second .

please don’t get off on the wrong foot .

i know every curve .  every sigh .  every taste .

yeah ,  i guess i forgot .

i can’t wait for the rest of our lives to unfold .

sorry ,  i’m just .  i’m so distracted .

thanks for taking care of my friend .

i feel like i can handle it .

baby ,  i’m sorry nobody’s here .

you’re sorry we’re alone in the house ?

i could introduce you .

i’m merely here to conduct business .

everyone knows you’re  [ name’s ]  man .

stand down ,  big boy .  all it is to me is interesting .

i’m sexy ,  i’m cute ,  i found it in a boot .

sometimes i feel like you’re keeping me a secret .

love wins ,  after all .

you stay away from us .

even if your family sucks ,  you don’t .

you  ...  opposite of suck .

crush ?  don’t say that ,  okay -  not here .

there’s easier ways to say you feel different .

can we go ?  now ?  like ,  right now ?

rule number one ,  we do not work for the enemy !

you’re better than this .

what do you want me to do ?

you wanna see childish ?  how about this ?

i know you  ...  and you know me .

what the hell is this place ?

i don’t have my gun !

you have me .

it’s high time we leave this place .

i got you .  i got you .

what did you do ?!  idiot ,  what did you do ?!

all i have is my people .

i owe you nothing .

you may be dumbstruck but you’re not an idiot .

what are you doing sleeping with a pistol under your pillow ?

it’s my bedroom ,  i’ll ask the questions .

i’ve been keeping watch .

we don’t talk about that anymore .

oh my god ,  don’t ever do that to me again !

say hello to my little friend ...

in the future ,  if you wanna hurt me  -  just say please .

give me one good reason why i shouldn’t pluck your eyes out like grapes  ...  then steal these shades .

i’ve made my own fate .

i knew you could handle yourself .

demons can’t hold their liquor .

you are a welcome sight for these sore eyes .

it’s so good to be home ... and in your arms .

extreme makeover ,  homo edition ?  kill the drill .

what choice do we have ?

speaking of the team ,  has anyone seen  [ name ]  since this morning ?

all that matters is he’s safe .

we all did what we had to do to survive .

what’s happening to me ?

i can’t wait anymore .  it’s been over a year .

can you help ?

the price is steep .

i will do anything to get her back .

[ name ] ,  it’s all coming back to me .  i did something terrible .

sweetie ,  it’s okay  --  just  ...  spit it out .

any man that would shoot another man in the back doesn’t deserve to be known or remembered .

you miss it ,  don’t you ?

the rules were simpler ,  then .

i don’t have the luxury of getting old and forgetting all the things i’ve done .

i’d like to know the plan before i celebrate it .

they don’t deserve death ,  they deserve to be destroyed .

you look like you need an ambulance .

so we’re dealing with what ,  some kind of hex ?

we need to focus on a cure .

wise words from a leader of tomorrow .

oh ,  great  --  you’ve heard of me .

you listen to me ,  goddammit .

everyone still needs me to keep them safe .

this thing between you and i isn’t over until i say it’s over .

how am i supposed to live a normal life ?  why the fuck would i want to ?

just once i’d like for someone to come in with flowers .

i don’t pick sides .  i’m in it for myself ,  does that sound familiar ?

it’s a compliment .  it’s how we’ve both managed to survive .

noble men do not have the luxury of being neutral in times of war .

i like taking care of you .  i’d be happy to do it for the rest of our lives .

you did something terrible .  but you being you ,  how terrible could it be ?

i come bearing apology beer .

do you wanna hear my sob story ?

i did manage to get my hands on this stupid thing .

you are everything .

hide your kids ,  hide your wives ,  ‘cause we are storming the fucking castle .

can you not do that right now ,  during my rousing speech ?

don’t jump to plan c before we’ve even tried plan a .

wait ,  wait  --  are you sure about this ?

no ,  no  --  GAH ,  I’M GONNA KILL YOU !

i shouldn’t have given up ,  cause that’s what i did .  i gave up .

i let everyone down ,  but today i’m gonna change that .

i need you to kill me .

hey ,  i know how this looks  ..  but i’m asking you to TRUST me .

[indieyuugure]

Hello there

I just finished reading the latest chapter and I was wondering

How do the turtles back on earth know that Mikey is alive? Last we knew they all thought Mikey was dead, so how did they realize he was just captured

I'd say common sense but Idk

Anyways love the comic and so excited for more

Hm, interesting question. 🤔

I suppose part of this is my fault for not making it clearer, but the way Casey phrases those specific sentences are made to be that he’s making them sound more definite than he may actually believe.

Casey’s lines mentioning this are “It’s gonna be alright, dude. Leo’ll find Mikey.” It’s said in a hopeful tone, after all, for all he knows he’s trying to comfort his best friend who believes that his brother is dead and maybe convince him to have a little more hope.

Also, in between Casey’s lines, Raph mentions that he thinks Mikey isn’t dead as well. He says: “Mikey could’ve died because of me! I knew Leo was right but I was so…scared and confused and angry!” Raph is attempting to express that he was feeling the stage of grief “Anger.”

He doesn’t even know why he was so angry. Leo pointed out the flaws in the Kraang’s set up, he explained why it didn’t make any sense, he even drew parallels to other times things like this had happened, so you’d think that he would be over joyed, but that’s not how anger works. It’s not rational.

You can actually see that he doesn’t know why he’s angry in the first part of Retribution, Raph says: “Leo can go to freakin’ hell!” “I don’t give a crap what he has to say! It’s-” “-he’s just-” “…I-I don’t know!” As he’s trying to explain to Donnie why he’s angry, he realizes that even he himself doesn’t know and starts crying not knowing any other way to express the emotions he’s feeling.

So now, looking back after he’s calmed down a bit, Raph’s able to see what Leo was talking about and feels regret and guilt for being blinded by anger that, had Leo not been a stubborn turtle(but also he was in denial), could’ve meant that Mikey was left to die. That’s why he completely breaks down thinking that his anger and shortsightedness could’ve been responsible for killing his brother. It’s also why he thinks comparing himself to Leo is at all sensible.

Casey’s second line about Mikey is: “It wasn’t your fault that Mikey was captured, and none of this was!” It’s implied that most likely Donnie, who was the closest to the phone, heard Leo the clearest out of anyone and relayed what he heard to the others and they pieced together what happened.

There’s actually a scrapped piece of dialogue in Retribution, part 1, (the same page I was talking about earlier) where Raph actually tries to explain his point of view more to Donnie. If I remember, he says that, when asked, April said she couldn’t sense Mikey’s presence anymore. However, obviously if you take into account the possibility that the Kraang took Mikey to a different dimension, this argument stops holding water, and things start making sense.

Sorry that wasn’t as clear as I wished it was, but hopefully this clears some stuff up.

[rearranged-fanfic]

Cut Content (REARRANGED: Arc 2, Ch. 3)

Because this chapter is completely kicking my ass, let me share one of the many, many sections that I've had to delete from the chapter. It has been a process, TBH. I've now edited out over 15K words and shuffled them into my 'Scraps' file for later perusal/deletion. So, in the time that I've tried to get this thing wrangled, I've basically managed to type up 1.25 chapters worth of content that simply doesn't fit. And this chapter still refuses to come together in a cohesive way. Fun. Lol.

*Spoilers Below*

Excerpt 1:

Gojo cradles the shades in his long digits and taps his temple in a telling way.  Right.  His Technique makes his eyes sensitive.  But how much, I wonder? Sensitive enough that he has to wear blindfolds and thick black glass to keep them hidden away for most of the day, if the way he dresses is any indicator. “Then just turn the Six Eyes off for a bit.  Like,” and I pause to mime flipping a light switch, “click.” “Yeah, no.  No can do, I’m afraid.”  But he hardly sounds put off by it.  And he shrugs to capture some more of that ‘don’t give a fuck’ energy he embodies so very, very well.  “They’re a permanent fixture.” And that… that doesn’t seem right, does it?  The Six Eyes are permanent—since when?  In the Hidden Inventory Arc, he was able to turn them on and off at will.  In fact, letting his Technique drop is exactly how Toji had managed to sneak up on Gojo and stab him.  Or maybe I’m misremembering?  Honestly, I’m not sure.  Truth be told, there’s very little that I understand about Gojo, The Six Eyes, or Limitless.  I can’t pretend to know how his Technique really even works, not when it’s a combination of Physics and mystical mumbo-jumbo.  And the Six Eyes had gotten even less explanation. “You could turn them off before, right?  Before the whole,” I gesture vaguely, “thing that went down in your teens.” ‘Thing’, I say, because bringing up the fight with Zen’in Toji and Amanai Riko’s murder like they weren’t awful and formative parts of his past makes me feel icky inside.  So, I leave it up to interpretation.  He’ll know what I mean, anyway.  Again, I show more knowledge that I shouldn’t have, but do.  The man in front of me is used to it now, though.  There’s no suspicion or paranoia anymore.  Just a calm acceptance.  He nods at my query, blue eyes boring into me. “But not anymore?” A shake of the head.  Perfunctory.  Short. “So you’re stuck with them on all the time?” “Pretty much!” he chirps like a bird, seemingly not bothered at all. I can’t help but think about how sad that sounds, to hide his eyes permanently. And, before I can stop it, the question is out of my mouth: “Don’t you ever miss it?  What if you could turn off the Six Eyes again and just be… normal.” I wince at the word.  Normal.  That’s pretty fucking ableist of me, isn’t it?  ‘Normal’… Like having anything less than perfect sight makes somebody some sort of freak.  I lambast myself for my poor phrasing.  And I start thinking of a way to backpedal when I notice his thoughtful expression.  Gojo’s frozen in his seat, staring down at his glasses.  He takes a long moment to think.  And he finally breezes out a laugh. “’Normal’, huh?” he says softly.  “I’ve never even considered it, really.  What does ‘normal’ look like in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, I wonder?”  He tilts his head and looks up at me, considering something.  “Does something so mundane even have a place in it?  Or is it an impossible concept for people like us?” “I, err, didn’t mean for that to become a philosophical question.” “No.  I’d imagine you didn’t, my curious creature.”  The glasses slide on, cast his haunting eyes in shade.  “You want an answer to your question, Oracle-chan?  The truth is that I don’t think about it. I could wonder ‘what-if’ for so many things in my life.  A hundred things—a thousand things, even.”  Those long pale fingers of his find the notches in the table that he’d left a few days ago.  They sink into the warps left behind perfectly.  It’s like he’d dipped his fingers into wet clay for how well the table has remembered the imprint of them.  “But to do so is to stand idly in place, never moving past those things, never coming to terms with them.  I’d be stuck facing behind me, always, feet chained to the ground.  But I don’t have the luxury to wait around.  I have to keep moving forward and accept things as they are.”

Excerpt 2 (directly related to 1):

But I also know that there’s a deep layer of hypocrisy to this as well.  Because Gojo is stuck in the past, in a way.  He can’t let go of his friendship with Geto Suguru, and probably agonizes over not being able to stop him from leaving.  I don’t know the man well, not now that he’s no longer a 2D character in a manga panel or television screen, but I’m certain that this is one ‘what-if’ that he’ll never leave alone.  I wonder what other skeletons lurk in his closet, what other fixations he purposely buries to keep from becoming distracted by them. And I wonder how exactly he distracts himself. Casual murder, my mind supplies instantly.  And then I realize that I probably don’t want to know if that’s true or not.  Not exactly the healthiest coping technique.  Or most legal.  Or sane.  Maybe he has a secret harmless hobby, like macrame or nude modelling?  Or maybe he secretly paints Picasso counterfeits and sells them on the black market? I don’t know.  Anything other than fighting and killing for sport, I hope. Maybe I need my own distractions, if this night is any indicator--besides what Shoko had suggested.  Because that clearly hadn’t worked out at all.

Why was this removed?

Honestly, because Reader-chan and Gojo aren't currently at the comfort level to be having these kinds of discussions. I think this talk about vulnerabilities is best saved for a little later, when they can actually be in a room together without teasing each other (Gojo) or insulting each other (Reader-chan).

Plus, this scene was running too long anyway, TBH. So this is the fat that got trimmed. Might reincorporate it in the future, but not in this chappy.

Hope this tides you over for a little longer, pookies 😘

[knottyk]

Can't Fight This Feeling 

Pairing: Steve x Fem!Reader, Eddie x Fem!Reader, and platonic interactions with other characters.

Summary: The group went on an overnight beach trip where Y/N and Steve found themselves in an argument. A sing-off leads to a choir performance and Y/N catches the eyes of the one and only Eddie Munson. (no spoilers!! s1-4)

Word count: 1.9k 

Warnings: silent treatment, implied arguing, not proofread 😮‍💨

A/N: *shamefully pokes head through door gap* *squeezes whole body in the room* so sorry for being MIA and suddenly coming back with a a new fic for another fandom aaaaaaaa, you can consider this my red flag. I give you permission. 🚩 Anyway, I binged Stranger Things season 1-4 within a week and now I live with permanent dark circles and an unsteady sleep schedule plus undying love for all the characters… and heartaches from all the losses.

PS: i wrote this to 'Can't Fight This Feeling' by REO Speedwagon..

do not repost w/o permission, reblogs are most welcome &lt;3

It was the way that Steve would let his gaze linger on Nancy when she laughs at his jokes or the way that he’d offer his shoulder when she cried, no questions asked. For him, it was an act of service for an old friend whom he had history with. History that neither Jonathan or Y/N could erase. 

As the group sat around the bonfire, Y/N watched as Steve offered Nancy his freshly made s’mores. She looked away when Jonathan put an arm around Nancy, not wanting to see her friend upset for the same reason once more. 

They’d gone through it before but it fell on deaf ears and resulted in a slight rift in their friendship as Steve made her realise where she really belonged in his life. The night was not off to a good start.

“You’re my friend. Why can’t you just respect that I’m not over her? She’s all I want, damn it.”

Each sentence digging a deeper hole in her heart. Steve may not know how she truly felt but that doesn’t mean the others are blind to the truth staring at them in the face.

Robin drove a leg in between Dustin and Y/N and wedged herself down on the log. “You okay?”

Her gaze lost in space and hands playing with the sand, Y/N replied with a nod. Robin followed her line of sight and sighed when she reached the other end. 

“He’s still not talking to you.” Robin faced Y/N and watched as the flames illuminated her side profile. 

She remained silent. The kids’ chatter and the gentle sound of waves against the shore enveloping them.

“Give him time. He’s just being stupid.” 

“Time? I’ve given him plenty.” Y/N said in a sharp but low voice. “If that’s what he really wants to do, let him. I don’t care anymore.” 

The kids suddenly erupted in cheers and hooting, snapping Robin and Y/N out of their own conversation bubble. Eddie had just taken an acoustic guitar from one of the tents and is now challenging the kids to a sing-off. 

“Okay, so the rules are simple.” Eddie towered everyone else as he stood with one foot on one of the logs, using his leg as a resting place for the guitar. “Spin the bottle. If it points to you, you sing.” 

“Where are we going to spin the bottle? That’s not fair.” Max interrupted. “There’s no flat surface and the fire is in the middle so it won’t work either way.”

“Fine! I will be the bottle. I’ll choose whose turn it is.” Eddie elongated his neck for emphasis while addressing max sitting across him.

Lucas raised his hand. Beside him, Max muttered, “Still not fair.”

Eddie sighed and extended an arm gesturing him to go on with his question. 

“We won’t get enough turns.” He looked around to look for support within the group. “There’s like, 14 of us.” 

Beside Lucas, Erica muttered something about regretting joining the outing.

Dustin perked up, also raising his hand. Though, he didn’t wait for Eddie’s signal that he could speak. “Yeah, there’s not enough lines in the song for all of us to actually enjoy singing a phrase.” 

Mike joined in on the conversation, breaking from the conversation he was having with El. “Wait, what song are we doing?” 

“Can we sing Can’t Fight This Feeling?” El looked up at Eddie, her doe eyes glistening. 

“Ooh, that’s a good song.” Max agreed, now looking expectantly at Eddie.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie, on Y/N’s right side had started bouncing his leg up and down, fingers roughly scratching at his nape. 

“We’ll do it in pairs, we’ll follow a clockwise order, starting from Vickie. Yes, we can do that song and yes, you have a minute to pair up.” He had his eyes closed, ring clad fingers spread out and hands hovering in the air. His guitar tucked under his arm.

Robin tapped Y/N’s shoulder gently before whispering. “I gotta get back. Later.” 

On the left side of the circle, Vickie sat with her legs crossed at the ankles as she waited for Robin to circle back to her. Dustin scooted back to his original place beside Y/N. 

From across her seat, Y/N saw how Steve paired with Will. Though, his expecting stare at Nancy before she almost immediately turned to Jonathan didn’t slip through her observation. 

Meanwhile, Y/N was about to ask Dustin to be her partner but he was already practicing the verse with Erica. 

“Too bad, it looks like you’re stuck with me.” Eddie spoke as he started fingerpicking the opening tune. Tuning the strings as he went.

Y/N looked over to his other side where Robin and Vickie are laughing at one another, clearly partnered up. He was talking to her. 

“Not bad at all, actually.” She smiled up at him as the soft wind suddenly carried stray hair over her face. 

He had a charming grin on his face, dimples visible and further emphasised by the light emitting from the fire. He broke their eye contact and addressed everyone else. “Ready?” 

The group replied in a variety of agreement and some silent nods. Eddie began to play the opening rhythm as Robin and Vickie got ready to sing the first verse. 

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

The chaotic ambience just a mere moment ago was replaced in stark contrast by the warm smiles and attentive ears. Each one of them carrying swelling hearts from a moment so wholesome and peaceful, compared to what they’d gone through the past years.

The next pair to sing was Nancy and Jonathan. Two of them started off timid but eased into the song almost right away. Hands clasped within each other’s and loving glances were shared as they sang the words. 

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction

You make everything so clear 

Steve averted his gaze and just caught her eyes when it was their turn. His singing more of a mumble and had to be gently nudged by Will. The group chuckled softly as Y/N broke off their stares and instead focused on the fire. Steve followed suit. 

And even as I wander

I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window

On a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

He was being eaten by the guilt for him snapping at her just after they arrived the beach, now too afraid to approach her so he chose to give her time to cool down. It sucked that such a moment is wasted not by her side but somehow, he did deserve it, he thought.

The group erupted in cheers and laughter as Mike opened their verse with him dramatically kneeling on the sand and grabbing them with his fist as it sprinkled away with the wind. Eleven giggling through the song. 

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

The laughter died down as Lucas and Max’s turn approached. Max had an elbow on Lucas’ shoulder and her chin on her hand, both of them swaying to the melody. 

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fightin' for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Erica rolled her eyes at Dustin who had a pretend mic in his fist, placing it in between them. The girl eventually joining in the song and even having her own pretend mic, a hand over her chest and eyes shut. 

My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you

I've been running 'round in circles in my mind

And it always seems that I'm followin' you, girl

'Cause you take me to the places

That alone I'd never find

Y/N remained staring at the fire the whole time. Her eyes focused on the waves of the fire and how it wiggled through the air, as she simultaneously listened to the lovely voices carried by her friends. Too focused on the fire that she missed singing her verse with Eddie. 

And even as I wander

I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window

On a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

Her head snapped up when he started to sing. His voice was deep and raspy compared to his normal talking voice, a perfect combination with the cool and smooth sound of the guitar. He tilted his head at her, with a teasing face. Still charming, she thought. 

The kids started to giggle and tease Y/N. The older kids (apart from one) joining in too. “That’s cheating, make her sing the next one!”

“You heard them.” Eddie told her as he shifted chords.

She smiled as she shook her head, not believing the teasing she’s receiving from the group. Robin and Nancy were the first to cheer when she began her verse. She could hear Eddie guiding her as he played. 

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fightin' for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

All her fears and insecurities flying with the wind as they merged in a duet. Her eyes fluttering closed as she got carried by the moment. Opening them only towards the end where she locked eyes with Eddie who was already staring. 

She chuckled under her words and instinctively aligned her gaze across her where Steve sat silently, observing her. His brown eyes dull despite the bright shine from the light of the fire. His arms crossed over his chest and his body leaning forward, resting both elbows on his knees. At the sight of her, looking at him, he quickly found another focus.

Their sudden moment was interrupted when Eddie shouted, “Everybody!”

Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fightin' for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

The group erupted in the catchy chorus. Y/N feeling an arm over her shoulders, forcing her to sway. She looked over and saw that Dustin and the others had started the chain. She held Dustin’s hand on the other end and swayed along.

It was a memory waiting to be permanently engraved in their minds for the future to come. A perfect image of teens being teens. An image of youth. 

The swaying continued as Eddie finished the song with improvised riffs and ended it with a slow down strum, letting the strings ring out as it faded. 

Everyone clapped and hooted with big smiles plastered on their faces. 

Y/N looked over at Eddie. “Not bad at all.” 

He chuckled as he laid the guitar on the sand, eyes never breaking and smiles not faltering. His big, dark eyes embedded in her mind for the first time that night. Too drunk in the moment to realise the deep brown orbs watching them through the flames. 

masterlist

[chopper-witch]

Idea of Robin and Nancy being beards for Steve and Eddie but then falling in love with each other just added 10 years to my life.

It’s like fake dating to lovers but not…

I have to expand of course, so read on if you wish.

It’s 1986 Hawkins, Indiana. Being gay is just as if not worse than being a satanic cult leader. Even though Eddie is well out of hot water - he isn’t stupid. And he doesn’t want Steve to get hurt either.

So they ask Rob and Nance (who did break up with Jonathan after discovering how many times he lied to her about things, especially little ones *cough* acceptance letter *cough*) for help. It will be super easy, they say. You just have to cover for us, come on some double dates. “It’s not like you even like me anymore, Nance,” Steve adds. “Plus, Robs, we know you don’t even like guys. And Eddie doesn’t even like girls. Perfect pair.”

They agree. They get free food and free rides and free movies out of it. Yeah, it’s awkward when Eddie and Steve are being kind of gross but whatever.

But of course… while Steve and Eddie are sitting between Nance and Robs at the theater, they fail to see Robin staring at Nancy and Nancy staring at Robin and each of them turning back to the movie when the other catches them. Why would they? They’re focused more on each other.

Or at a restaurant, when each Very Straight Couple™️ sits across from each other, and Nancy’s hand brushes Robin’s when they both go to grab something and they both apologize and blush while the boys seem like they are deep in manly conversation (but Eddie is really telling Steve something wholly inappropriate about their plans for later).

Steve and Eddie just completely miss the signs. The smiles between their friends, gentle ‘accidental’ touches, asking to try each other’s food and feeding it to each other because they’re too busy sharing one brain cell that Dustin regularly steals.

And it just builds. It really becomes double dates whenever they have to bring Robin and Nancy along.

Then one night it’s a movie night. The kind they sometimes have where they just hang at someone’s house and drink and eat obscene amounts of food. This time it is hosted at Steve’s. Big house, parents gone.

Steve drags Eddie away halfway through whatever movie is on. Nancy isn’t really paying attention. No. She’s too busy staring at her hands as she realizes holy shit, she likes Robin. No. Loves Robin.

“You okay there, Nance?”

Nancy looks up. Robin has set the tape on the table and sat beside it, leaning forward toward Nancy. Her face is only a few feet away. She’d just need to lean forward and —

“Do you still like Vickie?”

“What?”

“Vickie. Do you still like her?”

Oh god, Robin thinks as the words begin to pour out.

“Vickie? I haven’t thought about Vickie in months. Out of sight out of mind. Graduated, you know? Haven’t seen her so I haven’t thought about her. Long gone. See it to believe it kind of gal here.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?”

“No I do not. Correct.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Robin’s heart is pounding. She feels so stupid for the way she phrased that. She could have just said no. Now it sounds like if Nancy were to go some where, Robin would no longer like her.

“Oh, just… fuck it.”

And Nancy leans forward, grabbing onto Robin’s face to bring her closer and finally, finally kisses her.

Steve cooks breakfast the next morning. Eddie is the better cook but Steve doesn’t want Eddie touching anything in his parent’s kitchen, so partially burned scrambled eggs, bacon that is either too crisp or too soggy, and dry toast will have to do.

Robin kisses a speck of jam of Nancy’s lips while Steve gets to the eggs and bacon.

“Okay, when did this happen?” Steve demands, pointing with his spatula.

“While you two were being completely oblivious,” Nancy responds.

Robin nods. “And we mean completely.”

“Though we were a little as well.”

“But we got there.”

Steve groans.

Eddie comes up behind Steve, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to his neck. “Well, at least we’ve got a pretty good system in place already. Neither of us can break up though. That would ruin it. So don’t break up.”

And then he steals the spatula to try to at least save the eggs.

———

Okay time to imagine the opposite b y e

[toonlovr19]

The Giggling Pumpkin

(Takes place a day after the events of Spooky Month 4)

Susie was a firm believer that little brothers are the weirdest beings on the planet, not to mention annoying. She had just left her room to get a glass of water but when she came back her pack of crayons were gone. There was one person who could’ve took them, her younger brother, Pump.

He did the exact same thing yesterday with the help of his friend Skid, and while she was streaming too! She would’ve hoped that he’d stop after she scolded him, but she was wrong. She would have to think of a more effective way to get him to stop, but first she had to confront the little thief.

Susie went up to Pump’s room, from the outside she could hear sounds of scribbling and some contented humming. She opened the door to see Pump drawing on a piece of paper with her crayon box. “Why do you keep taking my stuff?” Pump turned his head to his big sister, when he saw her angry face he seemed to shrink a little. “I just wanted to draw.”

Susie’s face soften a little. Pump looked a little sad and his voice almost sounded pitiful, it was almost like a whining puppy. Now that she thought about it, she did notice how Pump seemed to be interested in Susie’s drawings, he would often sneaked to her room and ask “what are you drawing?” Although she did find it a bit annoying, she couldn’t help but think how sweet it was that he wanted to follow his beg sister’s footsteps.

“Well, that doesn’t mean you can take my stuff without asking.” Susie said, firmly. Pump sighed and handed Susie back her crayons. “I’m sorry.” He sulked, “I just wanted to be an artist like you.”

Suddenly, Susie got an idea on how to make Pump feel better. She kneeled down to Pump’s level and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come on, bro. Please don’t be too sad, or else...” “Hmm?” Pump hummed, confused by his sister’s phrasing. “Or else what?” There was a moment of silence.

“Oooorrrr else I’ll tiiiiickle yoooouuu!” Susie whispered, putting her hands on Pump’s sides and slowly wiggled her fingers. Giggles immediately bubbled up from Pump’s mouth. “Susie!” He squealed through his laughter,”Susie, please!” Susie smirked, “Please what, Pump? You know you can tell me what you need.” Her teasing made only made things tickle more. Pump hugged himself as he cried out, “It tickles!”

“Well, duh!” Susie replied snarkly, “Of course it tickles. That’s the point.” She moved her hand up to where Pumps ribs met his armpits, his laughter escalated into loud chuckles. “Ahuh Ahuh Ahuh!” Susie snickered, “Don’t laugh like that, you’re gonna make me laugh!” “I can’t help it!” Pump squealed.

Susie stopped tickling Pump and let him catch his breath. “You ok?” She asked. “Yeah” Pump answered almost breathlessly. Susie couldn’t help but smile a bright smile at her little brother, it’s been such a long time since they had fun together. So many memories were brought back when they were younger, Pump was just a little baby and Susie was excited to be a big sister. She would rock him to sleep, play Peek A Boo and sang nursery rhymes to him, including one that gave her an idea.

“Hey Pump, do you remember that song I sang to you every time I tickled you?” Pump, lying on the ground, squeaked at the question. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Susie joked as she began to gently spider her fingers up Pump’s side.

“The Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the water spout.”

Pump giggled childishly, both at the tickling and at the song. He covered his eyes with his hands out of embarrassment, it had been such a long time since he and Susie played what they like to call “The Tickle Spider” game. She insisted that the both of them were too old to be playing baby games anymore, so when she started tickling his sides and singing that classic song, it kind of threw him for a loop.

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out.”

Susie spidered down his sides very quickly, causing Pump to laugh louder.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.”

Susie rubbed Pump’s tummy with both hands, imitating the sunlight washing away the puddles. Pump hummed contentedly, still giggling. This was his favorite part, it did tickle a little but at the same time it was relaxing too.

“Sooooo.... The Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the spout again!”

Right when Pump was distracted for a bit, Susie went back to his sides and spidered her fingers like crazy as Pump squealed and squirmed.

Susie finally stopped and gave his brother a hug, Pump hugged back. “You know, Pump. I know I don’t always show it, but I love you.” Pump looked up at her and said, “I love you too, Susie. Sorry again for stealing your colors.” Susie stood up, “It’s ok, bro. You wanna come to my room so you can practice drawing?” Pump’s eyes went as wide as saucers and glistened at that question, which was prompted by a loud, enthusiastic “YES” and racing to Susie’s room. Yeah, little brothers were weird but they are wonderful to have.