#i put way too much effort into this not to use fandom tags

[n3ptoonz]

'Anyone But You'

Pairing: Sub!Zero/GN!Reader (see what I did there)

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, explicit. Rivals to lovers trope, very story and dialogue driven but there is smut at the end, handjob, Bi Han is a good boy, overstimulation, canon typical violence, Bi Han is a complex man in love, reader is a pyromancer, kinda proofread this took so long to write holy fuck

EDIT: I FREAKING FORGOT i was referencing THIS picture. starts wreaking havoc

Word count: 3.4k

Explicit content under the cut

"Just what I needed." Bi Han grumbled, his usual scowl apparent on his face at the sight of you approaching him. He always hated how much you were able to match his skills. Deep down, he might have respected that, but your attitude is what holds him from admitting it.

"Just what you wanted." you said, flashing a shit eating grin at the man in front of you. "Lord Liu Kang sure has his ways of bringing the gang back together."

"Another reason I can't stand him." he said, this time louder and shamelessly. He didn't even care if someone were to hear him nearby.

"What's the assignment for today? He hasn't given us an impossible task in a while-"

"He wants twelve of us to investigate Shang Tsung's laboratory experiments in Outworld and get samples. Problem is, it's heavily guarded by his minion freaks in and outside."

Despite him cutting you off mid-sentence, you just rolled your eyes and looked at the drawing he held up. He didn't make any eye contact with you until you took it from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice filled with growing irritation. "Give it back."

"You weren't holding it right, so instead of asking you to flip it, I just took it. Quit your whining I'll hand it over once I get a good look at them."

He groaned, crossing his arms and waiting for you to finish. You really inspected their faces, impressed with how detailed they were.

"This isn't art class-"

"These are some really well drawn freaks of nature. Whoever did this captured their essence." you said, your tone genuine this time. This took Bi Han aback a bit, but not enough for you to notice. His eyebrows rested from his natural scowl upon hearing your indirect-direct compliment.

It was him who drew those atrocities with the finest ink from his late father's office, but he would never admit that. To be honest, he wasn't too fond of his own work and just passed it off as somebody else's from his clan.

He cleared his throat and took the paper back from your hands, "Yeah, yeah, just be ready to leave by sundown." he said, walking off to talk to the rest of the fighters in the group. When he took the paper, you noticed he had some black ink spots on the tips of his fingers, but you didn't bring it up. He's already constantly on edge so teasing him about something he actually put effort into was out of your forte.

It was nearing sundown and everyone was geared up including you. You grabbed your mask and choice of weapon, quickly putting on the all black uniform given since you all were heading out at night. Heading over to the table with the plans and formatting of the area, you could hear Bi Han discussing what's to come within the next 48 hours.

"This mission is going to be long, so listen closely. When we get there, we are to ambush the entrance to clear it of the guards occupying it. Then we wait to see if any alarms will set off before continuing into the corridor and clearing that too."

You listened to his plan, and to be honest, you didn't quite think going in with an aggressive approach would be effective.

"I feel like we should stakeout the front and sides to see the patrol patterns. If we just go in there setting shit off, surely we'd be fighting off an army of mutations, and who knows how long that would take."

Bi Han slowly raised his head, furrowing his brows. He always hated when you chimed in with something opposing his ideas, even if they almost always made sense.

"It would be easier to take them out when we get there. Plus, look at who we have on the team; our best twelve. I'm sure taking out some mindless freaks won't be hard." he said, glaring at you from the other side of the table. You placed your hands down and leaned forward, refusing to back down simply because he was in "in charge."

"Covering more of the area instead of running in blindly is more effective. We have 48 hours to get this done, what the hell are we storming the place for?"

"Because we have the reinforcements. Are you so incompetent that you question such a basic concept?"

"I think you forget, Bi Han, the last time we attempted to take down a semblance of organized criminals with just a few of us, not twelve--mind you--, a few of our people nearly got rag dolled to death. We had to retreat after taking a beating as soon as we arrived," you said, leaning in closer.

"It's ultimately up to you, but if you so much as get ran at by a gang of lab experiments, I won't be helping you."

Bi Han could only keep glaring at you behind his mask, the cryomancy in his veins creeping up as he gradually gets more aggravated. You were right, and that pissed him off, but he decided to leave that alone so the mission could just start already.

He watched the other members' reaction to you guys' interaction, and it looked like they agreed with you.

"Fine." he grumbled, "We keep watch to catch their patrol patterns, and attack once each group has established such. There's no need to report it since we'll be acting tonight. After that, we meet back here to report what we've found after looking around." he continued, pointing to a section of the laboratory.

"And make sure you take out everything you come across. Let out any prisoners too, but only after the fact so they don't get torn piece by piece by these abominations." you added, seeing Bi Han just nod and fully stand up, finalizing his statements and putting the plans in his pocket.

It didn't take long for you all to surround the general area, getting a closer look where the different parts of the lab would be. Albeit it didn't take forever in a night to get there, you and Bi Han had been bickering the whole time. Sometimes it was playful on your end, other times it was generally just annoying you how mean he was. If not for the rest of your members breaking it up, you'd have been arguing the whole way there.

Everyone else has split up for efficiency purposes...and to get away from you both.

You hid behind a tall bush that was easy to see through, watching for anyone and any thing that came by. Bi Han was nearby doing the same thing. You picked up on a couple of patterns that they patrolled in.

"I wonder if Shang Tsung is in there." you said to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"He doesn't drop by at night. It's the whole reason we came at this time, don't you remember?" he said turning to you, his voice right back to his tone of irritation.

"Do you have to be an asshole all the time?" you turned to him and met his eyes focused on you behind his mask, "I wasn't even talking to you. Plus, I tune you out at any given opportunity."

He didn't respond immediately. Just slowly turned back without another word.

"You know, I'd be more willing to actually listen to you when you aren't calling me a moron."

"Maybe stop being a moron and I'll be a little more nice to you." he quickly replied, remaining away from your gaze.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, tightening the bandages over your knuckles.

"Why the hell do I even try with you? I too wonder just what Lord Liu Kang was thinking to put us together. Figure this shit out on your own." you said, getting low before moving to a different spot.

As Bi Han was about to respond, he noticed a suspiciously placed patch on the grass that you were approaching. In his mind, he figured you saw it already and wasn't going to say anything. You had gotten on his last nerve once again, so why would he help you?

You heard a faint voice calling out in the distance that was gradually coming closer. You looked in that direction since you recognized the voice; it was one of the guys running towards you and Bi Han and waving his arms.

"Trap! It's a trap!" he yelled, but he was still too far to hear. "Retreat!!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Before you could even process the sound you were hearing, the surrounding area was set off by mini land mines while the building stayed in tact. You were able to dodge the patch that went off, but the aftershock caused everyone to be blown back a long distance from the laboratory, which eventually knocked you out from impact.

-

"Ugh, where am...I...?" you leaned up, wincing from the pain on your back and legs. The air around you was dusty, hazy, and heavily polluted by whatever the hell was in that debris. You looked around and could really only see the ground and the trees as far as your vision went before it looked light gray again.

You got up with the strength left in your body, aiming to find someone, anyone. Wandering around for so long caused you to have to pay attention to a body wound from the adrenaline dying down. You checked it out and realized it wasn't so bad, so you used pyromancy to close it up for the time being. It hurt like a bitch, but it worked.

You made the emergency call sound for anyone on your team to hear, still nothing. You tried again, only to hear heavy breathing and curses following after it.

"God damn it!" you heard, immediately thinking it had to be...

"Bi Han?" you called out, still holding onto your side while you walked towards the voice with high caution. Silence filled the air. This stubborn fucker...

"I know it's you, hard ass." you said, walking just close enough to see Bi Han leaning on a tree while holding onto his side. You'd be more concerned if he didn't not answer you on purpose.

Upon seeing your face, he was clearly not in the mood for your presence, especially at his most vulnerable state. The man was beaten up and in genuine pain, unable to tend to his own wounds, let alone stand.

Once you stopped in front of him he just looked away. He was embarrassed to say the least. Everyone else is usually hurt and he had to watch over/take care of them. But this time his own rival stood before him, just as beat up but still able to walk around.

"Who were you expecting to be here?" you asked.

"Anyone but you." he replied, clenching his jaw.

"That's no way to talk to someone who could help you. The other members are probably scattered somewhere looking for us and each other, but nowhere to be found." You paused in between sentences to see if he'd have anything to say, but he didn't budge not one bit. You noticed a deep gash on his arm and dried blood around where his ribcage would be under the uniform.

"Let's make this simple. We cut the rivalry bullshit so I can help you, or I can leave you to it while you likely just bleed out. Your call, Grandmaster." you watched his face twitch at the sound of his title. His mask not being on his face freaked you out sometimes since you could fully see his face and every expression on it.

"How could you help me?" he asked, putting emphasis on "you" as if it was impossible. You lifted your shirt halfway to show him the wound you patched up.

"I just sealed this with heat. It still hurts but at least it's not bleeding anymore. For yours it would probably take longer and a little more heat to seal but it's the better option." you said. The look on his face stilled in contemplation. He really couldn't stand the idea of being in debt to you.

"You know what, I can go, don't wanna piss you off-"

"No! Please...I need help. I need your help." he groaned out in pain when he leaned forward in desperation. You kneeled in front of him with a half smile.

"Don't utter a word of this." he said, slowly taking his shirt off to reveal the wound that stained his sculpture of a body. Lord have mercy...

"Wouldn't dream of it..." you said, moving closer next to him and getting to work. "I'll do your arm too."

You watched as he wanted to say something, but simply didn't. Like a lump was caught in his throat.

"You're welcome." you mumbled. You were so focused on his wound while simultaneously keeping your composure, you didn't notice the very, very slight blush forming on his cheeks. The feeling of your hot hands on his cold skin, and the look of pure concentration in your eyes had a different feeling coursing through his body.

He cleared his throat and looked off in the distance, a quiet, but genuine "thank you" finally coming from him.

-

It's been a couple weeks since. Everyone found their way back and managed to heal in due time. Since the mission was nowhere near successful, Liu Kang wanted you all to reside at the Lin Kuei temple to continue with altering plans after getting a thorough rest.

After helping out in the infirmary for a while, you realized Bi Han hadn't shown up so much outside of leading his clan in their daily routines. You left the room and looked around for him everywhere asking if anyone saw him recently. One of his clan members overheard you and let you know he mentioned he wasn't feeling well as of lately, so he's been going straight to his room after their sparring sessions.

You took it upon yourself to make a cup of tea, heating it with your own hands before heading over to his bedroom. The closer you got there, you could hear him talking out loud. He seemed to be babbling something over and over again before he realized he was getting loud. You stood outside his door and eavesdropped carefully, wondering just what the hell he was saying.

"Ah, fuck," he kept repeating everytime he exhaled, which just gradually became raspier and more strained.

After knocking two times it didn't take long for the sound of shuffling and him asking who it was outside of his door at this time to fill your ears. You sheepishly answered back, letting him know you brought tea since you heard he wasn't feeling well.

He quickly opened the door and pulled you in without a thought, closing it behind you before looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. This man looked stressed as all hell, but not the work kind; the faint pink on his face let you know it was a different kind of stress.

"Look what you did to me." he said, pointing to his face which was gradually getting hotter at the sight of you. He took the tea out of your hand and placed it on his dresser before grabbing one of your hands. "You need to fix this."

You couldn't help but smile mischievously at him. He was indirectly begging you to fulfill his needs, but you couldn't let him have it that easily.

"I'm confused, what are you asking of me exactly?" your feigned confusion only riled him up more and he was on the verge of being a sputtering mess.

"You-" he paused. "I...need you. Your touch."

"My touch?" you asked, walking closer to him and feeling his grip loosen just a little bit.

"The heat that comes from your hands. It...felt nice. And the way you looked at me that day has been occupying my mind since."

You tried not to show it on your face how in utter shock you were at his confession. He looked away before speaking again.

"Please." he whispered as he briefly closed his eyes. His quiet plea was louder than anything he's ever said to you in all the time you've known him.

With no time wasted, you grabbed his jaw and kissed him, feeling him stiffen from getting startled before melting into your touch (no pun intended).

Pushing him to sit on the bed, you had never seen a man like him just look so...submissive. And the fact that it was Bi Han, because of you, had you thinking your life was complete.

His bun came undone and let his hair flow free. You softly grabbed the back of his head and massaged his hair, letting him feel the heat emitting from your palms. With the other hand you undid his belt and there it was. His bare body before you, and his dick half flaccid.

One grab at the base nearly made him fall limp. Your warm hands caressing his hair and shaft was likely the trick to make him cum right here right now. It didn't take long for that feeling to swell up inside of him, making him harden way faster than he expected.

"Look at me." you demanded, watching his eyes flutter open. If his cheeks weren't a deep red before, they sure are now. The pace of your hand quickened, but not too much to watch the friction. "You're going to cum when I tell you to. Not beforehand, understood?"

As he nodded you could feel his breath hitching. You never tore your eyes away from his even upon hearing the sound of slick getting louder with every stroke.

"See? I knew you could be a good boy, Bi Han."

He grunted at his senses heightening to the sound of your voice, his name, and being called a good boy all in one. He couldn't hold out for much longer now.

"Please-" he whispered. Nothing like a cold glass of man begging in the afternoon.

"Please what?" you stopped your hand, squeezing around the tip. You reveled in the way it looked like he was about to cry real tears.

"Please- Ah, I'm so close-"

"What do you want me to do about that?"

"Move your hand, fuck-" he started to lose sense of his surroundings as soon as you lightly pulled on his hair. You finally gave in, the look on his face and the utter desperation on display made you hot all over (no pun intended)

You didn't expect a small cracking in his voice to appear. With this you only egged him on further to express just how good you make him feel.

"Cum."

And that is exactly what he did. The moment he started to get loud you covered his mouth with the hand that was in his hair. Did you ever think you'd hear Bi Han whimper and sniffle just from your warm hand gliding up and down his shaft? No, but it made everything that lead up to this point worth it.

You didn't stop stroking. You couldn't stop. His eyebrows were upturned and he looked like the perfect bottom bitch. If you told anybody about this, albeit you wouldn't dare, nobody would believe you. You had the Grandmaster of the Lin fucking Kuei under your palm, literally.

As he kept cumming from overstimulation, ice crept up to his elbows. It's like he lacked control from the amount of pleasure he received. He definitely needed this to say the least.

He finally calmed down, and you slowed your hand to a stop. Luckily he only got it on his abdomen and not his beloved robe otherwise you wouldn't hear the end of it.

You sat next to his tired form, looking at him from the side and tucking his hair behind his ear.

"You really put the 'sub' in Sub Zero." you said, reaching up to have him face you again. Hesitant at first, you leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips to see his reaction. He just stared at you, but this time his face was relaxed, not a frown line to be found. A smidge of a smile on his face.

"You're cleaning this up."

-

a/n: thanks for reading! my asks are open! <3

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk smut #smut #bi han x you #bi han smut #bi han mk #bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han x y/n #bi han imagine #bi han mortal kombat #bi han #rivals to lovers

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/12/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; More BTS/Photos; Samba Schutte Cameo; Taika; Fan Spotlight; London Billboards/Trucks; Uproar; LubeAsACrew; Watch Party Reminders; Continued Efforts; Trends; Love Notes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

Hey all! Thank you so much for your feedback on the recaps! Right now I'm planning on sticking too them, but may cut them down depending on the day. Right now we seem to be pretty solid on daily news so I'll keep them the way they are for now. I appreciate you all sharing your thoughts with me <3

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

== More BTS / Photos ==

Well as many of you know, the things that broke the internet were the latest photos that were found by @jodegg on LK Creatives Website

Nicola Dove also put up some more photos recently! Thank you to @kiwistede for putting them all in one place in this post.

= Samba Schutte =

Thank you so much to @gheyandwoke on Twitter for getting a cameo from Samba! It's absolutely beautiful and totally worth a listen.

== Taika Waititi ==

Taika's out here advertising for hot tubs, and seems to be enjoying himself with Rita! Src: Taika's Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

== Cast Cards ==

Tonight's cast card is Rachel House! Absolutely love Rachel in so many of her roles! Thank you @melvisik for highlighting her works!

== Ari Azure's Act of Grace ==

Our lovely crew-mate @ariazureyt wrote a song about OFMD being cancelled, and commissioned @enabuns to draw, and @ferventrabbit on vocals! The full song will be released on their youtube this Friday! To follow along for updates, visit their Link.tree

== London Billboard ==

A few more photos from the SaveOFMDCrew meetup at the London Billboard in Leicaster Square! Wanna see them all? Visit the @saveofmdcrewmates website!

Our crew-mate @heather.in.wonderland on Instagram brought Little Ed with her to visit the billboard!

== Trucks Ads Outside Amazon! ==

== Save OFMD Meet Up In London Video! ==

See the whole post on tumblr!

Website: https://www.help.saveofmd.com/ Petition: change.org/p/save-our-flag-means-death Socials: linktr.ee/saveofmdcrew

Vocals: twitter.com/ferventrabbit

Video: twitter.com/kristybean18

Lyrics: Set your eyes upon the screen A wondrous sight to see This is "La Vue en rose" Londoners from far and near Will likely shed a tear To see "La Vue en rose" The petition climbs so high No streamer can deny The power of our show We’ll spread the word about our pirates dear Until the fandom at last perseveres Look upon the lovely sight To keep our hope alight "La Vue en rose"

== Uproar Coming To America! ==

Get your tickets at fandango!

== Watch Party Reminders! ==

== Lube As A Crew ==

Our dear friends over at @astroglideofficial are hosting one last Lube As A Crew, with all of Season 2 in one go! Starts Friday March 15th 12 pm Noon PST ( 4pm EST, 8 pm GMT)

== Wrecked ==

There are sources being passed around. If access is an issue, DM @iamadequate1 on Twitter or Tumblr

Season 2 watch from March 11th to March 15th. 

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd. 

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== OurFlagRTL ==

Twitter-Watch-Along von Our Flag Means Death:

Streamt Staffel 2 ab dem 15. März.

Samstag, 9.3. 17:00 Folgen 1 bis 3, 

Dienstag, 12.3. 20:00 Folgen 4 & 5, 

Mittwoch, 13.3. 20:00 Folgen 6 & 7, 

Donnerstag 14.3. 20:00 Folgen 8 & 9, 

Freitag, 15.3. 17:30 Folge 10

Und anschließend bingen wir zusammen Staffel 2! 

Schaut und tweetet mit! 

Hashtag:

 OurFlagRTL

== Continued Efforts ==

So even though Chaos Dad, David Jenkins told us there was no more home, several people are still out there fighting the good fight. There's been a few different routes being taken.

1. Sell The Show, Let Us Go

Our crew-mate @patchworkpiratebear has been putting out lots of awesome media regarding this, and several people on twitter have been using #SellTheShowLetUsGo

2. There's been continued and more targeted Polite Menacing against Max, WB, and David Zaslav.

Lots of folks have been either responding to Max's Twitter / IG Post, and others have been focusing specifically on Zaslav.

Specific hashtags being used were #FireDavidZaslav and #DontStreamOnMax Thank you to @iamadequate1 for capturing all these great trends and metrics:

== Articles ==

https://www.themarysue.com/our-flag-means-death-fans-put-up-billboard-in-londons-leicester-square/

SchadenFreude Articles

https://awardsradar.com/2024/03/11/you-had-one-job-david/

https://www.cnbc.com/2024/02/23/warner-bros-discovery-hypes-free-cash-flow-investors-dont-buy-it.html

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. I know that the new photos were both a welcome gift and also a heavy reminder of where OFMD is and what we've lost. For some it's helping them rally, and for others it's really pulling them down deeper into the gravy basket.

Wherever you are, just know it's gonna be okay. Whether we get an s3 or not, and if we do 10 years from now or next week, it's going to be alright. As so many others have said, including our lovely Con O'Neill, they can't take what we have away from us.

I continue to hear from the cast & crew in all their posts that we are some of the much amazing, kind, and engaging folks they've ever met, and you really should be proud of yourself for that. Our cast & crew are wonderful, but the fans are too.

On a slight side note, please if you can, check on your crew-mates today. The initial shock is starting to fade, but a lot of folks are still struggling, or coming back to struggling after a period of being okay. We're all riding the waves right now lovelies, and it'll take some work but we'll get through the storm, but it'll be easier together.

Our friend @thelatestkate has another lovely note for us.. and I second it. We are all weathering the storm right now, but you belong here, and we love that you're here with us, through tears or laughter, or unhinged fun. Be kind to yourselves lovelies, we are small but we are many, and we all care about you, I wish Sweet Dreams / Happy Days for you <3 Love you Crew.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

I've run out of images allowed on one post so we're just gonna do a combo one tonight, and since this scene is the theme of the day, we'll go with the goofiest one of all. Gif courtesy of @stedesbonnets / @edsrosetattoo (The gifs are being weird AF tonight, its showing one name but apparently it's not right? Apologies if I'm not crediting the right folks!)

#daily ofmd recaps #daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag bbc #edward teach #rhys darby #save ofmd #gentlebeard #renew as a crew #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #taika waititi #our flag means death #adopt our crew #Youtube

[just-wrting]

Perhaps a Little Jealous

Title: Perhaps a Little Jealous

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Read

Summary: After gifting Hotch a new sweater, you use it to your advantage to keep other women away. Unfortunately, this doesn’t go unnoticed.

Word Count: 1817

Master List

A/N: My first actual post in forever and it’s not Supernatural. I think having to keep this blog Supernatural related got to me and I just kinda neglected it. I think opening up requests for a multitude of fandoms will help my creativity! Anyway, enjoy some of my current obsession: Criminal Minds’ Aaron Hotchner!

Part 2

Knocking on Hotch’s office door, you smooth out your shirt. Granted, you didn’t have to give Hotch a gift, but you feel obligated to give him something. He had prevented you from getting injured, or worse killed. So in an effort to say thanks, you had gotten him a gift.

“Yes?”

Hotch’s office door swings open and you look at him sheepishly. “I wanted to give you a gift. To say thanks for saving me on the last case. Can I come in?”

Hotch steps aside to let you in. You make your way over to his desk and stand next to the guest chair. You can’t bear to face him due to your face being so red. You know why you are nervous. You just don’t want to admit it.

“You got me a gift? For doing my job?” Hotch makes his way to his desk. “I don’t think this is necessary.”

You glance up to look into his eyes before looking away. You had magically found an excuse to give him a gift, but you are scared to tell him the real reason. You are giving him a gift cause it was a way that you showed you loved someone. Well in this case have feelings for.

“I think it's just a nice thing to do.” You are quick to answer. “You’ve done so much for me since I started at the BAU and not to mention you did save me on the last case.”

Hotch looks like he might ask more, but he graciously holds his hand out for the gift instead. “(Y/N), you’re a member of the team. I was just doing what I would do for any of the others.”

Your heart sinks a little. Of course, Hotch would say something like that. At the end of the day, he is your boss. Hotch is someone you should never have developed feelings for. Yet here you are. Standing in his office, handing him a gift, and almost hoping that he would read into and figure you out.

“Still. It’s just something I like to do for people I care about or like. Like I gave Garcia some coupons I had found for a brand that matches her style.”

You watch as Hotch pulls the ribbon off of the gift. You are nervous. Your heart is pounding. If Hotch took one good look at you, you know that he would be able to pick you apart and say the words you were thinking.

“Coupons and a gift you went out and bought are two different things, (Y/N). Besides, this,” he pulls the sweater out of the box, “looks like it cost you more than some coupons.”

“Hotch, if it bothers you, I can take it back. I just thought that having something comfortable while on a case or that you can use to stay warm in the hotels would be nice. I’m sure I got your size right, but if I didn’t there is a gift receipt in the box.”

Hotch checks the tag and shakes out the sweater. You know it was his style, the quarter-zip, and his color, a wine red. You are almost one hundred percent sure that you had gotten his size, a large, though you’re sure that even if it isn’t the right size he’d still look good. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not he would like it.

“This is,” Hotch pauses while feeling the material, “very soft. Where did you get this? Actually, if you don’t mind me asking, how much was it?” You give him a smile as someone knocks on the door. “Looks like J.J. was right. There’s always a new case almost right after the last.”

—

It’s the morning of the third day on this case and weirdly enough, you are starving. Normally you get up too late to actually grab breakfast or anything, but today you woke up right as the hotel started putting breakfast out.

Hotch had told you all to make sure you got enough rest last night and to be one hundred percent ready to tackle the case this morning. This meant that you were allowed to get almost eight hours of sleep, closer to seven but who was really counting, and you were allowed to have more than a cup of coffee and a stale muffin for breakfast.

Not only are you right on time, but you also are surprised to see Hotch standing in line for the coffee maker. The new quarter-zip looks very nice on him and you realize that you weren’t the only one who noticed. A pair of women sit at the window, eyeing him from over their teas.

“Hotch!” You speed up your steps. “You should've had me grab you breakfast.”

You step as close as you think you can without getting in his way. The zipper of his sweater going at a diagonal angle makes you want to laugh. Knowing how motivated he is to finish cases, you figure he probably stayed up late and slept in it.

“Your thing, uh zipper, it’s crooked. Here let me fix it for you. Did you end up sleeping in this?”

Your hand grasps the collar of the sweater and gently adjusts it. Smoothing out the fabric, you give Hotch a soft smile. You like that he was wearing the sweater you got him. You didn’t like the fact that other women seem like they wanted to flirt with him.

“You can tell that I didn’t follow my own orders, can’t you?” Hotch asks as he puts a lid on his coffee.

You giggle. “Oh yes. Though if you were up all night looking at the files maybe you magically found something new.”

He hands you your own coffee and walks you toward the ever-wonderful selection of the hotel buffet. “I did see a few things. They could mean nothing, but without a second opinion, I’m unsure. Do you mind if I join you for breakfast and share them?”

You stand there in shock. Is he asking you to have breakfast with him? Not just the whole team? Could it actually just be so he could tell you to not invade his personal space again?

“Uh yeah! My room is super close, J.J. got me the room closest to the front door so that way when I’m running late I’m faster. Is that fine?”

He gives you a quick nod before grabbing some toast. Thankfully he doesn’t leave your side, or make any comments, as you load up your plate. He doesn’t even complain when you toss both a yogurt and a muffin on his plate.

The two of you are silent as you walk what was probably only a minute to your room, but feels like ages to you. You are nervous, not only are you still in pajamas, not even like the ones on television you are wearing the silly cat meme shirt, but you are going to have Aaron Hotchner in your hotel room.

“Sorry about the mess. The only person who usually comes in, well besides the staff, is Emily or J.J. Sometimes Morgan if he thinks I need further teasing. If I’m not treating it like it’s my room I just can’t think right.”

Hotch makes no comment. He instead opts to pull the chair from the desk and offer it to you. You shake your head and pull out the stool. “Actually, I’ll let the boss sit in the fancy chair. I can use the footrest as a seat.”

Hotch lets out a chuckle as he sits down. “The probably cheap office chair is fancy to you?”

You lower the chunk of waffle from your face. “As fancy as a cheap office chair can be. What did you notice?”

Hotch folds his hands on the table. “You paused after saying my name in the lobby. Almost as if you regretted it or noticed something else. When you came up to me you stood closer than you usually did and took your time making sure I was presentable.”

Swallowing hard, you look into his eyes. “Oh. Is this what you meant by opinions to share?”

You think you see a smile on his face as he continues, “You made sure that you put extra food on my plate like you were looking out for me. All of this would leave an impression on others that we’re close. And given the fact that hotels are usually couples or families on vacation this impression would be that we are together.”

You rub your arm and look away. Who said he could look so handsome while profiling your feelings? Just cause he was good at his job doesn’t mean you wanted to be the target.

“You saw the same women sitting near the window that I did, didn’t you? What made you give them the wrong impression?”

You know if you looked at him you’d give everything away even if you lied. “There’s no need for women to be taking up your time. We are on a case. Just because you won’t entertain them, doesn’t mean they won't waste time.”

“You’re very easy to read. When you feel like you can’t control your emotions, you look away. So I know that you’re hiding something or you’re lying to me.”

You know your face is red. You can’t do anything about that. Instead, you turn and face Hotch.

“The team can’t have women taking up time that could be spent working the case.”

Hotch’s smile wavers. “I know you’re lying to me. If that was truly the reason, your face wouldn’t be so flushed. Would you like to know what I think?”

You lick your lips and nod. “If you think you can read me that well then go ahead Hotch. Surprise me.”

This time he leans in. You would worry about the food and coffee spilling but you can’t focus that well with Hotch’s face only a foot away from yours.

“I think that you saw those women watching me and got jealous. Perhaps you got just a little bit,” he pauses and you know the word he’s thinking of, “possessive? You wanted to scare them off and make them think I was taken.”

“What would you do if that was the reason?” You hold your breath. “Would you tell me off?”

Glancing at the clock behind you, Hotch gives a smile. He stands up and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Perhaps after the case is over we can go and get breakfast. Someplace that isn’t your hotel room. Let me know if that works for you, (Y/N).”

With that, Hotch leaves your room. You’re a flustered mess due to his teasing. You never even knew that Hotch could tease. Your ear still feels warm from where he whispered and you do your best to calm down.

#criminal minds #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch #criminal minds aaron hotch #aaron hotch fluff #im back baby #reader insert #criminal minds x reader

[melloween-candie]

I said NO! [P.P & F]

Storybrooke/ Childish Peter & Responsible Felix x Reader

Requested // Request Rules

"Not in Neverland, but if you lived with Pan and Felix in Storybrooke or something, I feel like Pan would let you buy whatever you wanted and Felix would have to like, stop you. And it makes me laugh"

A/n - Omg yesss. Lol, I can totally see that! Like if they were modern or in storybrooke, Peter would be like-

"Y/n can have EVERYTHING they want!"

And Felix would be the more reasonable and down to earth one saying stuff like.

"But Peter!! That's so expansive!" Or like "Okay, well, how are we going to pay for that?!"

It would be such a cute situation 😍😂 I might even end up making a cute little drabble about it... 🤔 I don't know; it's up to y'all if y'all want to see it.

Reply

Asked by @emmaloo21

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n - Welp, I guess you guys are seeing it! Hope it's okay that I made this into a polyfic. I wasn't really sure who you wanted me to ship on this one. But yeah, it's just a drabble~ hope you enjoy it!

Warning! Mentions of tantrums? Literally there's barely anything bad on here lol

Word Count: 764

[Drabble Fic]

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Y/n's Pov***

Life has been a little chaotic ever since Peter and Felix arrived here in Storybrooke. Long story short, we managed to find a happy ever after for all of us.

Lucky for Peter, Regina and Emma allowed him to come with the help of Henry, convincing them, of course.

Now you might be wondering... Why in the world would Peter Pan want to leave Neverland? Well, he didn't. But I wanted to know he's here with me and Felix.

Oh, and by the way, we're all dating... Or at least I'm dating Peter and Felix. They aren't really dating each other since, well, they say they don't swing that way, but anything is better as long as I can love them both equally~!

Time skip!~

A good amount of time has passed since that incident, and people around here are starting to trust us. Which is a good thing since now we won't get a lot of death glares, and we can actually talk to Henry without anyone staring at us.

It felt great being able to just be a part of something, and the lost boys seemed to like their new environment, too. Some of them even have jobs!

Which reminds me of our struggles... Since Peter was the one behind all that havoc, it's kind of hard for him to get one... And besides that, he hasn't even put in a lot of effort into trying.

He'd always say stuff like, "Jobs are for old people. It sucks the life out of everyone!"

Meanwhile, Felix got a job super-fast. Which isn't much of a surprise since he's the responsible one in this relationship... Though, don't tell Peter I said that, or he'll throw a fit.

Anyway, I got a job, too, but it barely pays. I work here at Grannies as a busser. All I do is clean tables and dishes. It isn't hard since we don't get a lot of customers at once, but it's decent.

However, the pay isn't the greatest. It's fine for one person, but I'm with two others... So, we mainly have to rely on Felix's income.

He works as a construction worker, and he barely gets any time off... Especially the giant incident. Tiny literally destroyed half the town. It was a great pay, though.

Anyways, enough of that! Me, Felix, and Peter are currently heading to the grocery store to buy some food for the week.

Felix always hated shopping for food. But I know that's not true. He only hated it when me and Peter tagged along because we'd always add more than what was planned in the cart.

Felix would end up telling us no and to put it back, and Peter would say no to his demand every time, and those two would end up fighting about it all the way home.

It's honestly annoying. If I had enough money, I'd just buy groceries myself...

Anyways, it isn't all that bad. There'll be times when Peter and I would agree into getting something, and we'd pled Felix into buying it for us... That usually works surprisingly well.

Or times when Peter and Felix would agree into buying something, and they'd take it home to show me. Usually, it would turn out to be a gift they think I'd like or food they know I like. I love it when they do it for no reason. It always warms my heart knowing they both agreed to get it just for me~

Overall, life was great. Peter gets along with children surprisingly well. And they end up loving him too; meanwhile, they'd always avoid Felix at all costs. It was pretty funny.

Felix would always have to be the bad guy and pull Peter away from his fun. But that's how it always was. If Peter gets too ahead of himself or starts to think like he owns the place- Felix would always be there to slap some sense into him. And my part- well, my role is to help calm Peter down after he gets slaps.

His 'tantrums' are no joke people. Especially when he's trying his hardest to behave for me. After all, he didn't want this, but I'm sure deep down he actually enjoys it, and I know Felix does too.

He'd always smile for the strangest things... Like every time he finds a word for his crossword puzzle or when he finishes organizing something...

Overall, these two balance each other well, and I'm the glue to this whole ordeal! I wouldn't want it any other way, either~!

#once upon a time #ouat felix #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #ouat felix x reader #poly relationship #peter pan x reader x felix #fanfiction #once upon a time fandom #fanfic #fluff #good cop bad cop

[911whatsyourgratitude]

Effort in Gratitude

Friends:

This can't keep happening. We all love this show so much. But we are hurting the people who are working tirelessly to bring it to us. The cast and crew work way too hard to be constantly attacked and bombarded. They are people. Real people who are working their asses off for us. But the way they have been treated by some people is just awful and eventually, they're going to ask themselves if it is worth it anymore. To be cruel and vicious to people who make themselves vulnerable for the sole purpose of making something for other people to enjoy? Why? It is exhausting to have the voices of cruelty and toxicity be the loudest in the room and speaking for all of us.

So, I propose a change. Let's make an effort in gratitude.

A tool in therapy is to take an emotion or feeling that you can't shake and reshaping it into something healthy and positive like affirmations or practices of mindfulness. Want to combat the helpless feeling you get when you see a surge of hate? Submit a gratitude! It's that simple. Let's take the toxic and turn it into something good. This blog will be a place where people can submit their gratitudes/appreciations/love for the show.

What does that mean?

Submissions and the ask box will be open for anyone who would like to submit a gratitude. Whether that be a shout out to the crew, praise for an episode, something about a character that has helped you, or even just a simple moment of gratitude and appreciation for the show. I will then post those gratitudes for the fandom to receive. I will also post a few every week on instagram after the episode airs without names attached since most of the cast and crew are on there mostly. These won't be sent to anyone's DMs but rather be presented the same way fan art/edits are posted with a simple tag. If you do not wish to have yours shared and simply just want to put some positivity into the universe then feel free to let us know.

Any negativity, toxicity, racism, bigoted, sexist, or otherwise offensive will be promptly deleted and then ignored. This goes for character bashing as well. This blog is not the place for any of that.

My hope is that this can be a place of light, positivity, kindness, compassion, and most importantly, gratitude for the people who work quite literally night and day to bring to life this incredible show that we all love.

#911 fox #evan buckley #bobby nash #eddie diaz #athena grant #chimney han #maddie buckley #hen wilson #oliver stark #peter krause #jennifer love hewitt #ryan guzman #angela bassett #kenneth choi #aisha hinds #911 on fox #9 1 1 on fox #tv: 911 #911verse #911onfox #911 season 6 #Please signal boost this #911edit #911 show #madney #buddie #henren #bathena

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 17 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXX. Verbal Abuse. Assault, both sexual and physical. Blood. Violence. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 10k

A/N: PREPARE YOURSELVES, cuz this is an INTENSE roller coaster ride, y'all. Also, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not gonna say much else, other than this is a beast and I cannot wait to hear the unhinged responses after. And thank you for your patience!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

“You need me?” you question him, honestly taken aback by the sentiment, even though he has said it before. It’s just still so hard for you to believe that a man like this needs a woman like you. Running your fingers through the soft, damp hair at the nape of his neck, you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, baby, I do. I really do,” Elvis says, wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you close. His head buries in your neck, in your hair, breathing you in.

“Show me,” you whisper in his ear, surprised by your own boldness. But his declarations have you some kind of way and that coil is still like hot coals smoldering in your belly. You feel his body stiffen against you, knowing that he is even more stubborn than you and doesn’t want to give in to you just yet.

You run your hands over his exposed chest and under the deep V of the fabric, grazing over his nipple with your fingernails. He twitches and jumps under your touch, despite his efforts to stay neutral.

“I need you,” you breathe, pitching your voice up the slightest bit as you look into his eyes. And you do. You desperately need him, in every way. If you could crawl inside of him, you would. You need to believe his promises are true, that he will take care of you and be everything you need. You need him to show you.

This must read on your face, because he cannot seem to mask his response this time, his azure eyes widening and pupils dilating.

“Take care of me,” you say, your voice nearly a whine.

That’s the ticket. “Fuck, okay…yeah, let me take care of ya,” Elvis breathes in your mouth as his lips find yours, your sins forgotten for the moment, if not forgiven completely. His lips devour yours and your hands can’t get enough of him, starved from before when he had you tied up. They roam over his chest, wind around his neck and into his hair before scraping down his back and clawing at his waist.

Elvis pulls back for a moment and surveys the space in the room. You can see his wheels turning, then how his lips curve up in a smile as he figures out how he wants you. He leaves you hanging for a moment as he pulls a chair right in front of a huge, floor length mirror. Sitting in the chair, his legs spread wide, he beckons you to him.

“Come sit on my lap, baby,” he purrs at you, and you immediately obey, settling on one of his strong thighs and burying your head into that deliciously long neck of his. The salt of his sweat stains your lips. His strong scent surrounds you, magnifying your need for him. You suddenly feel very small in his arms in addition to that need. He seems to sense this, letting you first cuddle into him a bit before winding his large hand below your jaw and peppering kisses down your neck.

“Gonna be a good girl and do as I tell ya?” Elvis asks, his voice low and gravely as he grabs your chin.

You nod. He truly fucked the fight right out of you before, over there against the wall.

“That’s my girl. Now turn and face the mirror for me,” he says, guiding your hips to swivel in his lap. He pulls your dress up and over your waist, leaving you in your lacy panties. You feel a little self-conscious looking at yourself perched on his lap like this, your cheeks a flaming shade of red. You are very close to the mirror, too close. But you watch as your eyes go wide when he grabs your inner thighs, spreading them open with his large hands while sliding his strong thighs in between to keep yours apart.

The lacy fabric of your already-soaked underwear strains as he massages your legs from your knees to your hips. The groping shoots fire through you and you press back into his lap, encouraging him to continue. When he ghosts over your core, it steals your breath away, and you are so incredibly ready for whatever he has to give you.

“Let get these off,” he says, tapping your clit over your panties and causing you to jump with the sensation. Nearly frantic, you shuck them down and off with lightning speed, along with your heels. Elvis chuckles, spreading you open even further when you sit back in his lap. Your muscles strain with the stretch, but you don’t care.

“Be a good girl and put your feet up on the mirror for me,” he instructs, and albeit confused, you do as you’re told. “Nice and wide for me, honey. Yeah, just like that.” He scoots your hips down a bit as you adjust and cradles your upper body with his, his head resting over your shoulder, looking at you both in the mirror. You are completely exposed and utterly vulnerable before him once again.

“Now look at that,” he breathes almost reverently, “You’re stunning, in every way.” You both watch in the mirror as he runs his fingers down your face, your jaw, then over your body. You shiver in his lap, earning his famous lopsided smile in return.

Elvis gets more serious as his fingers reach your core. “But ain’t this the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in your ear, running his pointer finger ever-so-lightly over your folds as you watch. The combination of sensation and the visual you are not used to seeing has you squirming in his lap, aching. He locks his other arm around your pelvis, pressing you against him and immobilizing you.

“Be good, baby. You promised,” he says in your ear, and you watch yourself nod furiously, stilling. He commences his lecture. “I wantcha to see what I see, baby. Look at how pretty and red you are for me like this, all slick and swollen and needy,” he says, watching intently, hungrily, as his finger grazes your lower lips, up one side and down the other. You whine and grip his arm for purchase, feeling like he is calling all the blood in your body to gather in your cunt. It feels heavy and pulsing, burning with need for him.

Elvis brushes up to your clit. “Hmm, one of my favorite little spots,” he hums, circling it softly, making you keen as you lean back into him. Then, obscenely, he uses his first two fingers to spread your lips apart. “Christ, baby, look at that,” he says, voice filled with lust and awe, “You’re fuckin’ weeping for me.”

Your eyes travel down to your exposed hole, and sure enough, you are literally dripping with arousal, both yours and his. It glistens as it gathers, a slow, eager little drop sliding out. You cannot stifle the low moan that escapes your lips at the erotic nature of this little show, your pussy buzzing with heat and want, on display for all to see.

Elvis senses you need more, and he lets your folds wrap around his long middle finger, dragging it up and down through your slick as you watch.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, thankful for the friction, your hips automatically rolling for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” he says, moving your hand over your mound and guiding your fingers in slow circles over your clit before he returns to rubbing in between your slick lower lips. The wonderful combination makes your eyes flutter closed and your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Nuh uh! Eyes open!” Elvis nudges you, and your eyes pop open. “I want you to watch yourself come, baby. I need you to see what I see.” He smiles, and it’s almost boyish in its mischievousness.

It’s not going to take much, considering how primed that coil was before you even sat down, and how strangely erotic this whole scene is. How it’s making you feel lightheaded and buzzy and hot all over. You begin to work your clit furiously, watching as Elvis runs his fingers over then through your sopping, swollen folds. When he dips one long finger, then another into your weeping hole while you watch, the string of curses that leaves your lips is utterly filthy.

Your senses are overloading, which you imagine was his intention. The sight of you swallowing his fingers so needily, so readily, your arousal shining, the wet suckling sound coming from your cunt as he expertly works his fingers in and out of you pushes you headlong to the edge. Coupled with this and your barrage on your clit, you hit your climax hard with a loud cry, pressing your heels into the mirror with such force, you’re afraid you might crack it.

“Look, look, look, baby,” he pants, forcing your focus back to him, back to what he’s doing to you. “Look at how you flutter around me!” He’s right; you watch, mesmerized as your hole clenches at his fingers through your orgasm, and fuck if that isn’t amazingly hot.

You whimper at the sight, shuddering and panting at the exertion. He chooses that moment to curl his fingers, pressing that special spot inside you that is only his, and another wave of pleasure shoots through you so strongly that you lose your breath. You crest the hill again, stars shooting through you, forgetting that you ever came here to break this off, to run away from him.

There is a wild, desperate look in your eyes that you’ve never seen before as you writhe against him in your ecstasy, keeping you fucking down onto his fingers even though you are sore from before. You can’t stop the waves that keep crashing over you, engulfing every inch of you as you watch it happen before your eyes.

And Elvis looks gorgeous, those blue eyes flashing with his magnetic sexual energy, his pouty lips open and pink and panting right along with you. He is hard again, his length pressing into your spine through his suit as you furiously roll on his fingers, and you can feel him begin to shudder underneath you. You know he gets off on watching and this is quite the show. You rock your hips more deliberately now, feeling the length of him slide between your ass cheeks, and he groans.

“Am I gonna make you come in your pants, E? Gonna make a mess for me?” you mewl seductively, wanting to push him over the edge, too. “You like watching me get off on your fingers, don’t you?”

“Jesus, baby, yes,” he moans, “but I need to watch you come again. Come with me, honey.”

You’re not sure you can. You are overstimulated and over stretched and near hysterical with pleasure. Your heart is thrumming so fast you can barely breathe.

“You can do it. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, baby. Watch me take care of you,” he pants heavy in your ear, his eyes glassy, unable to take his eyes off your pussy. He moves his hips in tandem with yours now, then without warning, slides a third finger inside you.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, seeing just how well you take him. You automatically adjust to him, and he works you as only he knows how. You work your clit and grit your teeth as you feel that coil poised to spring again.

“E-El-El-vis…F-f-fuckkk!” you cry breathlessly, coming completely undone around him again.

“Oh, fuck, honey…GodDAMN!” he groans into you simultaneously as he slams his hips up with a violent shudder that matches your own. You can feel the heat pulse under you, dampening the fabric of his suit.

But you continue to shake and shiver on top of him, your orgasm ripping through you, stealing everything you have left, draining every ounce of energy from your reserves, which isn’t much considering the insanity of the last 24 hours. You sense much too late that your body cannot keep up. Your heart is too fast, your breathing too labored, and your muscles too weak.

You shouldn’t be surprised, then, when your body goes limp, the blood drains from your head with a cold rush, and the world goes dim and then black.

*

“Y/n! Y/n! Jesus, Satnin, c-come on baby, w-w-wake up!” you hear Elvis’ panicked voice from far away, but you are so very tired and just want to sleep, thinking maybe it’s a dream.

…no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I lo…The faraway echo of long-ago words in this too familiar panicked voice fades away like a dream. You slip back into darkness.

It’s the piercing fear in his voice when he calls your name again that has you finally coming back into yourself. You blink a few times, willing the world to come back into focus, confused.

“O-oh, shit. Oh, t-thank God,” Elvis breathes. He is right above you, his eyes bright and flooded with fear, near tears.

“Wh—what happened?” you murmur, feeling buzzy and strange, and like things aren’t moving fast enough.

“You scared the shit outta me is w-what happened!” he looks down at you, now placed on the couch, his eyes quickly shifting from fear to anger. “You—you just fuckin’ collapsed!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember what happened. You’d come here to break up with him, to tell him you were leaving…then you argued. Then you fucked. The mirror.

Oh, god, had you passed out from coming too hard?

You start to giggle at that, uncontrollably.

“Baby, what the fuck? It’s not fuckin’ funny!” Elvis fumes, leaning over you.

That just makes you laugh more. “I came…s-so h-hard I p-passed out!” you hiccup out.

“That’s not normal!” he cries, throwing his hands up in the air.

Another peal of laughter at the absurdity of it rolls through you. He’s not wrong, but whatever is happening to you seems to be overpowering your sense of self-control.

“Are you on something?” he asks suddenly, grabbing your jaw to get you to focus. He looks over you carefully and then a flash of horror comes over him at what you assume is the thought that he’s somehow taken advantage of you.

“N-no, of course not,” you finally manage to get out. You are shivering now though, and suddenly freezing. “S-something’s not r-right,” you finally chatter out.

“No shit,” Elvis mumbles, eyes narrowed, obviously trying to figure out what’s wrong with you. “Baby, when was the last time you ate?” he asks.

You blink at that, trying to run through the last day in your mind, but all the days have been running together. You honestly don’t know.

“I-It’s been at least a day, I think,” you finally eek out. “Maybe l-longer?”

“’Maybe longer?’ Goddammit, y/n, you can’t just go without fuckin’ eating!” he yells, getting up from the couch and storming over to the phone at the other end of the room. You hear him ordering someone to bring food immediately as you attempt to sit up, but your dizziness has you lying back down quickly.

Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t in a constant swarm of emotional and physical upheaval for the last week, I would remember to eat, but who’s fault is that?

Elvis slams down the phone and paces back over to you. “When was the last time you slept, y/n?” he angrily asks now, his eyes a churning gray-blue, as he pulls your dress down modestly and throws one of his plush robes over you.

“Um, on the r-roof,” you get out.

“Christ, that was barely sleep,” he mumbles, obviously frustrated as he continues to pace the room. “You have to take better care of yourself, y/n!” he erupts.  

You recoil a bit but are touched by his anger, knowing it is fueled by concern. But you are also annoyed because it isn’t all your fault.

“Well, I’ve been a b-bit busy,” you manage.

“Not that fuckin’ busy!”

He’s not getting it. You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes.

“Th-this is part of the problem, E. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, I’ve been so s-stressed, I don’t know which way is up…” you shiver out.

He halts. Your words must be sinking in because the blood drains from his face and you’re suddenly afraid he might pass out.

“This is because of me,” he finally says. The way he phrases it, you’re not sure if it’s a question or statement.

“It’s not—” you start, not wanting him to spiral more than he already is.

“Goddammit, you’ve been tellin’ me you’re strugglin’, and I been yammerin’ at you to trust me to take care of you and then I did the opposite. Shit,” he curses. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Elvis deflates onto the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids.

You are too tired to respond other than to brush the errant tear that runs down his cheek with your thumb. You wish you could see this sensitive side of him more often.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna get some food in ya, then I’m sending Jerry with you upstairs so you can rest—”

You open your mouth to argue.

“There’ll be none of that,” he hushes you. “There’s no way you’re doin’ the show tonight. And Jerry’ll get you woken up before we come up after the show, and everybody’ll be none the wiser.” He gives you a stern look.

There’s no point in fighting him or telling him how his plan could go wrong. You’re still confused exactly how things with Jack are going to be handled or if anything Elvis said while fucking your brains out earlier was going to come to fruition, but you’re not in the frame of mind to try and solve that this minute. So instead you just nod.

The food comes, somehow all of your favorites. He knows my favorite foods? runs through your mind, but you are too hungry to dwell on it. Then, as he instructed, you head upstairs with Jerry, who without judgement, sends you into Elvis’ suite to rest. You think your mind won’t possibly let you sleep, but between the food and your exhaustion, you drift off before your head hits the pillow.

*

Circle G Ranch, February 1967

You wake up early, your eyes blinking out the dull winter morning light streaming through the window. Well, it’s not early for normal standards, but in Elvis’ world, most haven’t even gone to bed yet, you think, looking at the clock. You being awake now is likely due to the fact you couldn’t keep up with the partying last night and had excused yourself much sooner than usual to go to bed.

It takes you a moment to realize where you are. Being at Elvis’ newly acquired ranch in Mississippi has been a welcome change of scenery yet is still a little disorienting. You are used to Memphis, and even occasionally California, but this place is new for you all.

Completely dissatisfied and not having any semblance of control with his career, Elvis recently decided that he wanted a place in the country, a place where they could all come to relax and ride the horses he’d bought for all the men and their wives. A place where they could work the land and have a little fun. And you wonder if he just wanted to feel a little normal for once, thinking that a ranch would do that for him, that it could give him the control he so desperately craved. That maybe it might bring him some of that happiness and zest for life that had been bled out of him for all these years, turning him into someone you barely recognized.

So, Circle G Ranch was purchased, and you’d all arrived to take in its splendor and fresh air. And it was working. Elvis seemed happier here than he’d been in a very long time, the sparkle beginning to return in those expressive eyes of his. And when Elvis was happy, everyone else was allowed to be happy too, theoretically.

You think maybe all that horseback riding and fresh air is part of the reason you were so tired last night. Turning over, you notice that Jack hasn’t come to bed. Your heart sinks, though out here in the middle of the country, it’s not like he can get in too much trouble. It’s just likely the guys are still awake.

Either way, there is an emptiness in your chest that misses your husband. Each time he leaves with Elvis, less of the man you knew returns. You are hoping that some leisure time on the ranch will help him, too. There is less temptation out here, and more opportunities for you two to spend time together.

Unfortunately, he has not been very receptive to that so far, opting to hang with the guys more than you. But considering that he has been drinking more, part of you is glad for it. If the last couple of years have shown you anything, it’s that Jack is a mean drunk, just like his father.

With that thought, you decide to get up instead of dwelling on things you cannot change. As you get dressed, you hear the door of the trailer slam.

“Jack? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he replies belligerently. The tone of his voice tells you immediately all you need to know. Your heart speeds up as a warning discomfort blooms in your chest. You steel yourself before walking out into the living area.

“Morning, sweetie. Want me to make you some breakfast?” you ask in a light and easy voice. If nothing else, food might help sober him some.

Jack’s response is a grunt in the affirmative, and then he shoots you a glare, his brown eyes dull but cutting all the same. You have no idea what you may have done to upset him, but he is obviously not happy with you. The tightness in your chest increases and you force a smile, not wanting to set him off. If you act like everything is fine, he might forget what is bothering him. It happens that way sometimes and is generally the best-case scenario when he’s like this.

“Okay, I’ll get that started,” you smile, and he settles with a huff on the couch. Scurrying off to the kitchen, your smile falls and you get to cooking as quickly as possible. Steak and eggs, you think. That’s his favorite and will help clear his head.

Your mind races as you cook, trying to find a reason for his ire. You dissect every moment from the day and night before but cannot pinpoint anything in particular that you might have done to make him upset. This has you feeling uneasy, on eggshells. If you knew what you’d done, you could apologize and make up for it before things get out of hand, but it occurs to you that he might be too far gone for that anyway.

Lost in your thoughts, it takes until you smell the meat smoking to realize you may have cooked it too long. You are hoping he is too drunk to notice. With renewed focus, you plate your breakfasts and walk to the tiny table.

“Soup’s on, babe!” you say in a cheerful sing-song voice. Part of you cringes inside to hear yourself like this.

He grunts off the sofa and stumbles to the table, plopping down with a screech of the chair. You keep yourself from wincing at the sound, wanting to stay as sunny as possible as you begin to cut into the meat. You’re unable to keep from looking up at him to check his body language, his affect, as he begins shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth without so much as a word to you.

You pick at your own breakfast, your appetite low because you feel so on edge. You can sense the tension in the room and know better than to speak at this point.

“What the fuck is this?” Jack grumbles, throwing his knife and fork clattering onto the plate.

You look up quickly, your heartbeat skipping. He’s fuming now, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed at you, his scar an angry red with the flush on his cheeks. You don’t have time to piece together whatever has happened before he continues, his voice shaking low with anger.

“First, you embarrass me by taking off in the middle of everyone having a good time last night. Everybody asking, ‘What’s wrong with her, is she okay?’ blah, blah, blah,” he says with a mocking venom that sends a chill right down your spine. “And now you can’t even make me a decent breakfast. Can’t even get that right,” he growls, pounding on the table.

The table rattles and you start to shake a little, frozen to the spot. You realize that maybe Jack is more than just drunk, that maybe he took something on top of it that has him worse than usual.

“I…I’m sorry, I was just tired from all the activity yesterday, and I can make you a new—” you sputter out quickly, but still unable to move, trapped in his furious gaze.

“I don’t wanna hear your fuckin’ excuses, you stupid bitch!” he screams, exploding out of his seat, the chair toppling over behind him with a clatter. “What I want is a fuckin’ steak that’s not cooked to death!” he roars, then picks up his plate and hurls it over the table near your head. You barely have time to register what’s happening, leaning out of the way at the last second on pure instinct, and the plate careens into the wall behind you with a crash, sending food and ceramic flying everywhere.

Your brain misfires and your heart leaps to your throat, the terror in your veins pulsing through you so intensely that all you can do is turn and run. You have to escape because you don’t know what he’s gonna do, he’s never thrown anything at you before, and he’s yelled, yes, but not done anything to hurt you, and oh, god, you have to get out, get out, GET OUT.

You fly past Jack, his rage too consuming and his senses too dull to catch you as you go, and you are out the door of the trailer in a flash, not stopping to see if he’s following you. No, all you can think is you have to get away, you have to escape, and you fly through the rows of trailers housing the other men and their wives. Your heart slams against your ribcage, fueling your body forward as you sprint down the dirt road towards the barn in the distance. Your socks stick to the cold ground as you run but you don’t care—all you need is to get to the horses. You’re not sure why, but you just know that if you can get to the horses, you’ll be safe.

You run and run, only hearing the crash of the plate in your ear, feeling the splatter as it shatters behind you. Only hearing Jack’s screams, “You stupid bitch! You stupid bitch!” You don’t even register the tears burning down your cheeks as you finally reach the barn, flinging open the door with what little strength you have left and frantically looking in the stalls for the horse that Elvis gave you.

Moonbeam. You finally see her near the other end of the barn, her gray and white coloring standing out in the sea of darker equines. You skid to a stop in front of her. Knowingly, as if she can sense your distress and your need for her large, calming presence, she turns and pokes her head out of the stall, nuzzling your tear-stained face.

“Oh. Oh,” you gasp, completely out of breath from the exertion. You cling onto Moonbeam’s strong neck, her coat soft and warm under your shaking arms. Your chest heaves, desperately trying to take in air. If you could, you would jump right on Moonbeam’s back and ride as fast and as far as you can, but she is not saddled, and you have no idea how to get her ready.

The light tap on your shoulder sends you flailing into the stall door with a shriek.

He’s found me he’s found me he’s found me, is all that runs through your head, though if you were anywhere near logical, you’d know that Jack was in no state to chase you all the way to the barn.

“Hey! Hey, y/n, it’s okay! Honey, it’s just me!” You turn toward the warm, familiar voice and are met with concerned deep blue eyes, a far cry from Jack’s bloodshot and brown glaring ones.

“Oh,” is all you can manage to huff out as you look at Elvis, your muscles starting to burn and shake. Your heart is still beating too fast.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Elvis says worriedly but gently, looking over you, seeming to sense how on edge you are. He goes to touch your shoulder, but you reflexively shirk backwards, knocking your elbow into the door with a thud. He quickly backs away a step, putting his hands up in a non-threatening way.

You suddenly slam into the present moment, realizing that you must look insane. Your hair is windblown, you are makeup-less with tears streaking down your face. It’s the dead of winter and you are without a coat or shoes, your socks dirty and torn and bloody from your sprint. You have food splattered down your left side, and you are gasping for air like you’re drowning.

“Y/n, I need you to tell me if you’re okay,” Elvis says, quiet and calm, as if talking to a spooked horse.

You glance over his shoulder, suddenly afraid that Jack could stumble through the barn door at any moment. Wide-eyed and frantic, you look back at Elvis. You realize he’s between you and the door and that gives you some comfort. Jack would have to get through Elvis to get to you, and while you know you’re not in your right mind, you are completely certain that Elvis wouldn’t let Jack hurt you.

With this relieving thought and your adrenaline beginning to wane, you suddenly feel extraordinarily tired as well as embarrassed that Elvis is seeing you like this. You realize he’s waiting for an answer, but you cannot speak. You don’t want to bother Elvis with any of this, so you nod your head, bobbing it up and down quickly.

Elvis tilts his head and looks at you perceptively. Of course you’re not okay, and Elvis reads it all over your face and appearance. You finally give up under his watchful gaze, shaking your head. It falls back against the door behind you, and you choke back a sob. Your exhausted body shakes with cold and the remnants of your fear, and you slide down the door, unable to support yourself any longer.

“Oh, shit, okay. Honey, it’s okay,” Elvis coos at you, stepping quickly to your side but not wanting to touch you and invade your space, lest you freak out again. Instead, he slides down the door with you, letting you lean into him for support. And you do. As you reach the cold, straw-covered ground, you lean your head onto his shoulder, his warmth radiating comfortingly into your side. You begin to shiver.

“Here, baby,” he says, taking off his thick coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. Immediately, you feel calmer, as the heat and his distinctly Elvis scent of musk and Old Spice, coupled with the woodsmoke from last night’s campfire surrounds you like a blanket.

You both sit in silence for a while as your body comes back down from the fear of Jack’s outburst. He’s yelled at you before, even called you names, but he’d never gotten so close to actually physically hurting you.

He must’ve been on something, you think. Jack would never hurt me.

I should’ve been more careful with the breakfast. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve stayed up last night with him. The thoughts run through your head, as though if you examine them enough, you can possibly avoid setting him off in the future.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elvis asks quietly, sensing the wheels turning in your head as only he can.

Humiliated, you shake your head vehemently. Elvis does not need to know the specifics of your marriage. He does not need to know of your failures.

But part of you wants to tell him he’s created a monster.

Without Elvis, Jack might never have gone into the bottle. Without Elvis, he wouldn’t be taking other shit that makes him fly off the handle at any moment. Without Elvis, without Elvis, without Elvis…

You are too exhausted for blame and anger right now, though, so you bury it instead. It is what it is.

Elvis doesn’t push you, though you can tell he wants to know everything. You can practically feel that he’s quelling some deep instinct to protect you, his muscles tensing and releasing, his jaw working. But maybe he begins to piece it all together himself because he remains quiet. You are safe now, and that’s what matters, right?

And perhaps it is your heightened emotions, but you suddenly crave the nearness of the man who used to be your best friend. The man that, for reasons you don’t entirely understand, time and circumstance somehow stole from you when you weren’t looking.

So you lean into him, into his strength and sensitivity and his unique power to draw you to him, even when part of you wants to blame him for everything. Even after all these years of confusing behavior and emotional distance, you can’t begin to imagine your world without Elvis Presley in it.

And now you sit here on the cold floor of a horse barn in the middle of the Mississippi countryside in the dead of winter, wondering how in the hell your life became this.

*

Jerry wakes you gently with a whisper and a poke on your shoulder but you startle anyway, pulled out of the dream violently with a gasp.

“Sorry, y/n, but everyone is on their way up soon. EP told me to wake you,” he says apologetically.

The room is dark, and you are still exhausted, but you are somewhat grateful to be pulled out of that dream-memory. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth and a sick feeling in your stomach. You can’t help but chastise yourself for letting Jack grovel the way he did after he’d sobered up that day, for how you forgave him so easily because it certainly was not the last time he went crazy like that on you.

“Thank you, Jerry. I’ll be right out,” you say blearily. You blink the sleep from your eyes and stagger into the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

Anger at Jack festers like an open wound, but the dream has also reminded you of your anger towards Elvis about all of it. That makes you feel uneasy, especially coupled with that nagging feeling that he is hiding something from you. You don’t want to feel angry at Elvis, but some of his actions over the years have contributed to your overall dissatisfaction with your life.

You didn’t fully realize until now how upset it had made you that he just stopped being your best friend one day. You still don’t understand all of it, though you feel like these unearthed memories are trying to get you there. But it doesn’t change the fact that both he and Jack abandoned you in different ways. And this pisses you off.

Fucking men, you think, touching up your makeup and straightening your dress. Your unease deepens when you realize you are going to face the group very soon and you have absolutely no idea what Elvis is going to do or even if he will do anything. Is he just going to pull you to his side and tell Jack to go fuck himself? Is he going to act like it never happened at all? You’re not sure which is worse.

Your stomach churns and you desperately need to talk to Elvis before he does something stupid. Panic rises, but you slam it back down, willing yourself to just be normal for the time being.

Be normal. What a laugh. As if any of this is remotely normal.

Steeling yourself, you head out to the living room just as people start walking through the door. Sandy finds you immediately, giving you a concerned and questioning look. You can’t tell if she’s surprised to see you or not, but you turn from her, still annoyed that she ratted you out (even if it was in an attempt to help you).

As the room fills and bustles, something is itching at you, poking at the corners of your mind. You think maybe it is paranoia. It feels as though Red keeps shooting knowing, snide looks your way. You can’t help but examine everyone around you, searching for signs that they know. You squirm in your skin, unable to get comfortable.

It doesn’t help that Jack slides in behind you when you aren’t looking, wrapping his arms around you a little too tight. He reeks of whiskey and cigar smoke so badly you choke. “Where you been, treasure?” Jack asks a little too pointedly, suspiciously, as if he knows something is up. Your heart plummets and you resist the urge to push him away but can’t help but try to worm your way out of his clutches as Elvis strolls in the room.

Elvis’ intense eyes find you immediately, and you watch his jaw clench as he keeps himself in check. You manage to slip out of Jack’s grasp and Elvis relaxes a bit, distracted by one of the guys. It seems like he doesn’t want to make a scene over the two of you in front of the group, which has you breathing a sigh of relief.

What doesn’t have you relieved is that Jack is once again all over you as everyone finds a seat. You feel trapped as the conversation begins to flow, wanting nothing more than to go hide in Elvis’ room, far away from the fumbling hands of your husband. His hands are heavy on you, creeping up your thigh, drawing circles on your shoulder with his fingertips. It used to be a comforting gesture, but now it feels possessive.

He knows. Maybe Red already told him, you panic. Your heart gallops in your chest and you try not to lose it.

No, don’t be an idiot. He wouldn’t be this quiet if he knew, right? Jack is a few drinks in at this point, and the more he drinks, the louder he generally gets. Though based on his hands, you think that he is feeling something else altogether.

You can feel Elvis’ jealous eyes bore on you as Jack touches you, but you are caught between a rock and a hard place. If you shirk your husband’s advances to obviously, it will seem strange and garner attention, but if you don’t, you fear Elvis will give you both away. And you aren’t ready for that, not before the two of you come up with a cohesive plan.

If you are going to leave Jack (no, when you leave Jack, you remind yourself), you certainly don’t want to do it in the middle of an afterparty with the whole gang listening in.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” you finally whisper, excusing yourself with a forced smile, needing to escape Jack’s clutches. “You need anything?” you ask.

“Oh, I need something alright,” Jack breathes sloppily in your ear, attempting to be seductive and failing. But it has an edge to it that worries you.

“You’re hilarious, babe,” you say as sweet as you can while standing to make your escape. Jack takes the moment to grope your ass and you can almost feel the wave of irritation coming off Elvis from across the room. “I’ll get you a drink,” you sputter out, sliding out of Jack’s grasp, shooting Elvis a quick, warning glance to not do anything stupid. Then you scurry away as fast as you can without seeming strange.

Instead of heading to the kitchen, you make a beeline for the bathroom, desperately needing a moment away from all the eyes you feel are on you tonight, wanting things from you that you cannot give.

Fucking men, you think again, closing the door behind you.

To your shock, it doesn’t close. Jack pushes in and your heart drops into your stomach. The look in his dark and muddled eyes bodes nothing good.

“Hey, treasure,” he slurs with that disturbing edge to his voice, grabbing your waist and pulling you in for a sloppy, whisky-tinged kiss. You try rather unsuccessfully to not cringe at the feel of his lips on yours.

Maybe he’s too drunk to notice, you hope.

“I thought you were going to get drinks,” Jack says suspiciously. He locks the door behind you, warning bells exploding in your brain for a multitude of reasons, one being Elvis breaking the door down, another being whatever Jack expects of you.

“I had to pee first, babe,” you say as evenly as possible, “Now get so I can!” You playfully swat him on the shoulder, as you’ve done a million times before in your life together, but this time is different. This time, Jack’s chocolate eyes blacken as he grabs your wrist.

Your breath catches, and your heart starts to speed up as Jack’s hand tightens. “Honey, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you whisper.

His dark eyes rake over your body with what you think is lust, but it is tainted with something frightening. “Oh, I think you came in here because you wanted something else,” he says, backing you into the vanity. “You know, some of the guys are saying that you’re stepping out on me. Can you believe that?” His head buries in your neck, his lips dragging roughly against your skin.

Fucking Red.

“W-What? That’s ridiculous,” you manage to eek out, trying to lean away from his touch, but there is nowhere for you to go. Your heart is in your throat, but before you can say anything else in your defense, he’s changing the subject.

“You’re wearing this scarf again?” Jack questions because it impedes his barrage of his mouth on your neck. He unties it and you watch the pink and black silk flutter to the floor.

“It goes with my outfit,” you reply. You attempt to push him away but get nowhere, his broad chest stubbornly immobile. “Seriously, Jack, I need to pee,” you whine now, hoping that will do the trick. Every nerve in your body is on alert as he kisses your skin, as he presses into you. You can feel the bulge in his pants growing, poking into your pelvis.

Every fiber of your being wants out of this enclosed space, a space that only a moment ago felt like a refuge but now feels like a prison. You don’t want this, and if Elvis finds out, there will be hell to pay. But Jack is too far gone to listen and too strong for you to move.

Jack picks you up easily and places you on the counter, his hands pushing the unyielding fabric of your dress up your thighs so he can spread them open and step between them. It feels cold—nothing like the warmth and passion you felt when Elvis did the same thing earlier.  

“I told ‘em, ‘Not my treasure. She knows her place. Besides, who else would want her anyway?’” he laughs cruelly, grinding into you. The words cut, as he intended, and you become fully aware that you are in trouble. Your stomach rolls, nausea consuming you.

“Jack, seriously, stop it. I don’t want to do this right now. You’re too drunk,” you protest, pushing your palms into his chest to try and put space between you.

But he seems to take your protests as being coy, or perhaps he just doesn’t care, and chuckles darkly into your neck. “Didn’t stop you from sucking my dick the other night.” He lathes his tongue against your collarbone, causing an icy shiver down your spine that he interprets as positive, smiling on your skin. His hands roam to your back and unzip your dress.

You squirm, but it only serves to assist in his attempt to undress you, his hands roughly pulling down your sleeves and bra straps.

He stops abruptly, to your relief. “What are those?” Jack asks, suddenly on edge, his tone changing completely. He pulls back from you and for that you are grateful but confused.

“What’s what?” you reply as he stares at your chest, his eyes narrowing, the lust being replaced fully by anger.  

Jack is on you in a flash, too fast for you to register what’s happening and then he’s yanking down the front of your dress, your bra, exposing your breast.

“Jesus Jack! What are you doing?!” you shriek, trying to pull away as he manhandles you, but you have nowhere to go.

“What the fuck are those?” He pulls you roughly off the counter and spins you around to the mirror, pointing to the series of purple welts on your breasts.

Oh, fuck.

“I…uh…I…,” you sputter incoherently. Your brain misfires, too panicked to think of anything clever or even anything at all. There’s no logical explanation for the dark bruises other than them being what they are. Your mind flashes back to the other night, how Elvis had claimed you, his pouty mouth suckling your skin roughly as he’d fucked you into oblivion on the couch.

You hadn’t even thought to cover them with makeup, since Jack hadn’t seen you naked in eons.

“You stupid fucking slut! Who are you screwing?!” Jack screams, ballistic, swinging you back around to face him.

You’ve never seen him this angry, his face and scar turning beet red, his eyes like daggers. But this reaction is rich coming from him, which triggers your own anger as much as your fear.

“Really, Jack? You barely come home and when you do you smell of cheap perfume, but me, I’m the slut?!” you yell back at him, your body shaking all over, as you pull up your bra and dress. You certainly hadn’t planned to do this here, now, but you’d known in your heart for days that this was coming.

The vein in his forehead pulses dangerously, and he looks like he truly wants to hurt you. He grabs your wrists painfully as you try and zip up your dress. You’ve never seen him look at you this way, even in his worst moments, and it send a shudder of fear through you. “You’re my goddamn wife! Nobody touches my wife!” he yells, his spit flying in your face, ignoring your reasoning completely, too far gone.

Then, he unlocks the door and yanks it open so hard it slams into the wall with a crash, and then pulls you into the hallway, dragging you behind him.

“Jack, stop. You’re hurting me!” you say, trying to wrench out of his iron grasp. “What’re you doing? This isn’t the place for this,” you hiss frantically, scared of what he might do or say next.

Jack manhandles you into the living area where people are conversing and laughing at someone’s jokes, and roughly pushes you into the middle of the room.

The laughter dies out quickly as all eyes turn towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and heat burns your cheeks. You are furious and scared and now embarrassed, the back of your dress undone in front of everyone. You watch as Sandy’s eyes widen, immediately gleaning what’s happening, and she starts to stand, but Jerry grabs her arm to stop her.

You rub at your raw wrists, but you don’t turn to look at Elvis, who is behind you. That would give it all away, and for now you at least have control over that.

“Who is it, huh? Who are you fucking? All of them?” Jack shouts at you in front of the group, pointing aimlessly at the men. There are confused and alarmed glances on most faces, though Sandy, Jerry, and Red all attempt to cover their knowledge with surprise. Some are better than others at concealing it, but Jack is too busy looking at you to see them.

“Hey, man, cool it,” Elvis says from behind you, trying to be nonchalant and deescalate the situation, but you can hear in his voice the effort it’s taking him to be calm.

Jack whirls you around roughly by the arm to face Elvis, as though he’s trying to shame you at court in front of the king. Elvis looks at you, unable to hide his concern and budding fury completely, and you shake your head the smallest amount, for only him to see, telling him to lay low and not give himself away. You may be fucked, but this can still be contained, at least until Jack has calmed down and not everyone is watching.

“This ain’t your problem, EP!” Jack yells. It’s as though the most obvious has escaped Jack’s rage-addled mind, since he’s not even considering Elvis when he’s the biggest threat of all.

But one doesn’t yell at Elvis. Not without repercussions.

“The hell it isn’t, not when you come in here drunk and hot like this, fixin’ to ruin everyone’s mood,” Elvis warns, standing slowly. He’s not yelling yet, but his eyes are starting to turn hard and dark. Elvis can be incredibly patient, but if his temper turns, it won’t be pretty. And he was already done with Jack before this wretched display. The tension in the room thickens to a heightened degree, leaving everyone on edge.

So hot with fear and embarrassment and anger, you think you might burst into flames right here. Your heart is thundering against your ribcage and you can barely breathe. Your legs itch to run, but you are surrounded by prying eyes, trapped between the two most important men in your life.

Jack is incensed, fuming, and not backing down. He’s gearing up for a fight, which is bad. His grip on your arm tightens and you can’t help but wince. You watch as Elvis takes a step towards you both and you shoot him a look to stay put.

“Jack, stop this,” you say as calmly as you can. “Let’s just take a breath and talk somewhere else and let the party go on.”

Jack’s chest heaves and he turns on you. “Shut the fuck up, you whore!” he snarls.

Then his fist brutally collides with your face.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion after that. The pain is instant, radiating through your cheek and your jaw, up into your eye socket. The metal of his rings snag at the corner of your mouth and scrape your face. Shock and disbelief course through you as the air rushes out of your lungs and hot tears spring to your eyes. The momentum of his strike sends you careening to the floor, and you manage to throw your hands out to catch yourself just before you hit the carpet.

A stunned silence falls over the group.

He hit me. He fucking hit me, you think in disbelief, through the pain, through the ringing in your ears.Jack had never, ever laid a hand on you before. You reach your hand up to your face, and it comes away bright red, bloody, your lip split. You can’t hold back the choked, shaking sob that escapes your lips.

Everything explodes at once.

The roar that comes from Elvis is like nothing you’ve heard before. The anger he’d shown you is but a fraction of what you see now as he crosses the room, a menacing bull after a matador. He strides so quickly and fiercely with those long legs of his that Jack barely has time to register what is happening before Elvis punches him square in the jaw, then rapidly again right in the nose. You can hear the sickening break of it which turns your stomach. Or maybe it’s your own pain doing that, you’re not sure at this point.

Elvis doesn’t even say anything, so blacked out with rage that he can’t even speak. You watch from the floor as Jack stumbles back and his eyes widen in shock, then confusion.

“EP? What the—?” Jack starts to say, holding his nose as it starts to bleed down his face, but before he can get it out, Elvis has him by the throat. Those long fingers wrap around and begin to squeeze as Elvis walks Jack back into the wall. Shocked, you watch from the floor as Jack’s face begins to turn red and he begins to sputter, clawing at Elvis’ hand and arm. True fear begins to play over Jack’s features.

Suddenly, the guys are all yelling and rushing around you. Sandy’s hands yank you up and back out of the fray, and you feel dizzy, swaying on your feet. You’re not sure how, but she manages to get you on the couch, zipping up your dress in a flash, and then examines your injuries.

“Are you okay? Y/n, are you okay?” she asks frantically, but with the commotion in the room and the fuzzy white noise in your head, she feels a million miles away. Your eyes are locked on the insane sight in front of you, freezing you with shock.

The guys are desperately trying to pull Elvis off Jack, but his hand is like a vise around Jack’s throat. He’s strangling him, truly choking him because you can see Jack’s face start to go purple and his eyes begin to roll back.

Three of the guys are on Elvis’ back now while Red chops at his arms, trying to break his hold on Jack’s throat unsuccessfully.

Oh my god, if Elvis kills him, I’ll lose them both and it’ll be all my fault, you realize.

You rise to your feet, ignoring Sandy’s protests, ignoring the dizziness and throbbing in your head, and you somehow, through pure will, push yourself through the throng of men to Elvis’ side.

“Elvis! Elvis, you have to stop this,” you say firmly, staring into his beautiful, terrifying face. His eyes are black and unyielding, almost unrecognizable. His jaw is so clenched in his murderous fury that you think he’ll crack his teeth. You’re not even sure if he can hear you because he doesn’t give any indication that he can, but you have to get him to stop.

“Baby, you can’t do this. You’re killing him. You can’t kill him. Satnin, I can’t lose you and if you do this, we’ll both be lost,” you murmur, pleading in his ear for only him to hear, hoping against hope it gets through to him.

You watch Elvis blink a few times, as if waking briefly from his trance, his shoulders relaxing just enough that when Red slams down on his arms again, they give way. Jerry pulls you backwards with a yelp, as Jack coughs, sucking in deep, rattling breaths as he slumps down the wall.

You do not go to him.

Elvis’ lapse in rage is short lived, for he sees Red and turns on him quickly with another roar, throwing brutal punches. You see on Red’s face that he knows exactly why Elvis is coming for him. A few punches land hard, and you hear more of the crack of flesh on flesh. You can’t help but smile a little inside at Red getting what’s coming to him, but horrified at yourself, you push that thought right out of your brain.

But there is a reason Red is Elvis’ bodyguard. He’s tough and scrappy and much more prepared for a fight than Jack was. You can see he doesn’t want to hurt Elvis but blocks and dodges some of his punches more readily. Four of the Mafia surround Elvis now, grabbing his arms, his waist, holding him back from Red, holding him down.

Elvis struggles against them and lets out one last terrifying primal cry before they get him subdued, pushing him to his knees. His chest heaves as they continue to hold his arms, his chin lowered, those lethal blue eyes peering out from under the black hair falling in his face. They still home in on Jack and Red, who are licking their wounds at the other end of the living room.

Adrenaline courses through you, your heart threatening to pound through your ribs, the blood rushing in your ears, as you watch four men have to hold down the man you love to keep him from killing the men that hurt you. And you aren’t entirely sure how to feel about that. A small part of you is frightened by this side of Elvis, how he is gone so deep into his rage that the man you know is barely there at all. And you can’t help but feel responsible for this turn in him.

But another part of you feels vindicated and relieved and almost proud of his defense of you. Part of you swells with so much love for him that you want to fall to your knees and kiss him as if your life depended on it.

“You sonofabitch. You fucking wife-stealing asshole,” Jack rasps out bitterly at Elvis, cowering on the floor with Red and a couple of the other men surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” some of the guys cry, having to hold Elvis back from going ballistic again. His glare at Jack is so fierce, you think the look alone might kill him from across the room.

But you don’t stop to find out because you wrench out of Jerry’s grasp and somehow make it over to Jack before your brain catches up with your body. You don’t even have time to think twice before your hand pulls back and slaps open-handed across Jack’s cheek, the smack reverberating in your ears and stinging through your hand and up your arm.

But you don’t care.

Silence falls over the room once more. Jack stares up at you wide-eyed, with shocked indignation.

“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” you seethe, now fully infuriated that the man you once loved had hurt you so badly, in so many ways. “You lost me a long time ago, and Elvis had nothing to do with it, you cheating, lying, drunken bastard!” You lean over into his face, your voice low and biting, “And don’t you ever, ever, lay your hands on me again, or next time I won’t stop him from tearing you apart.”

You watch the mixture of surprise and contempt and fear play over Jack’s features for a moment before stepping back. You look back at Elvis and see his lip curl into a sly grin.

And then it all hits you at once. All your mistakes. Everyone staring at you in shock. Your dirty laundry aired out for all to see. The blood and pain bruising on your face, your head pounding, your vision hazy. The mortifying violence that has occurred in your name. Your lover almost murdering your husband.

Oh, god.

Suddenly, vertigo hits you hard and you are so dizzy that the room swims and sways in front of you. The bile rises so quickly that you don’t even have time to process what is happening before you are hurling your dinner onto the shag carpet.

Something is quite wrong, you realize. All your anger and doubts and regrets and love drain from you with a tingling coolness, and everything and everyone feels very far away, their cries muffled by the pain in your head. Then you fall into a dark oblivion, leaving the pain and consequences of your actions far, far behind, and you wonder fleetingly if it was all worth it.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

#Pink Scarf #Pink Scarf Part 17 #elvis #elvis presley #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis imagine #elvis presley imagine #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction #austin butler

[t00thpasteface]

hey sorry i’m sure it’s a little dumb but how did you find a community/make mutuals on here? i swapped from twitter to here last year & haven’t been able to make friends like i did on twitter ;v; sorry if this is all silly but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. love your art & blog !!!

as i like to say, it's like lifting an anvil: it's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. as someone who's a 12+ year veteran that lurked for a couple years and remade a little while ago, really it all comes down to putting yourself out there!!! don't just sit around twiddling your thumbs and lurking. it's tough to do it without coming off as a pandering tryhard, but honestly as long as you're polite, upbeat, and posting regularly, then you're golden.

if you want a big list of wordy bullet points, here's what i've got, and i think you'll find it's pretty applicable to basically any site/community you want to get involved in:

post a lot. this is number one with a fucking bullet! POST! POST LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. but crucially...

post GOOD STUFF. don't bash yourself in the caption/tags, don't say "sorry this is shit" or whatever, don't self-deprecate, and don't admit to posting low-effort stuff just to hit a quota. imagine it's open mic night and go crazy. this is a good site to use like a journal and a scrapbook, but if you want to actually get some traction, you need to bring something interesting to the table. of course, just being funny and nice goes a very long way.

encourage audience feedback. people LOVE to tell you about themselves and give their opinions. get them responding and make the questions and calls for engagement so interesting or fun they can't help themselves.

tag effectively. use both fandom/content tags for searches, and organizational tags for your visitors' use. the tagging system is tumblr's bread and butter, so make it work for you.

follow a lot of blogs you like. then see who they follow, and add those to the list. build a good circle of engagement and keep your finger on the pulse of the site culture for whatever niche(s) you're in... or want to get in.

reblog a lot and be funny/kind in the tags. generally leaving a lot of comments/replies to post is kind of hit-or-miss, but tags are a good harmless "inside voice" to use that doesn't clutter the post itself and yet still engages with op and people seeing the post

engage with people when they ask for engagement. things like polls, ask games, etc... scratch people's backs and they'll scratch yours. and it's just a nice thing to do regardless :)

panhandling is not always the best route. people will balk if you look desperate or openly beg for engagement, like directly asking people to reblog something or being passive-aggressive about how much engagement you are/aren't getting on something. a genuine joke about it is fun and relatable, but snarky comments just kill the vibe and scare people off.

REMEMBER THERE'S NO ALGORITHM. lurking will not put you or any of the stuff you like out there!! REBLOG POSTS! SEND ASKS! this site will NOT SPOON FEED YOU ANYTHING. like taming a wild stallion, you can make this work for you, but you have to put in the effort first.

some people will think you're annoying, and that's okay. probably not very many, but they'll be loud. this is an unavoidable part of Being Known. you can be the sweetest peach in the world but there'll still be people who just don't like peaches. don't take it to heart, and if you do happen to drop the ball or rub a few people the wrong way, don't let that keep you from trying again :)

i've enjoyed the many friends i've made on this site in the past decade-and-then-some, even though both this site and my blog are both something of a ship of theseus. here's hoping you can make it work for you and your interests, too!

#shebbz shoutz #ask

[daddecember]

DadDecember 2023 Event Announcement

Welcome to DadDecember 2023!

While this is technically our second year running, we’ve changed purposes a little bit from last year. Last year we were very centric on MHA with DFODecember but this year we are instead multifandom to welcome in everyone!

So, with no further ado, everyone who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome in! We cannot wait to see what you create.

Please make sure to read this post carefully, as many questions have been answered here already. We have also answered all the questions that were submitted through our anon voting form already. If you don’t find what you are looking for there, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here. The mod team will get back to you as soon as possible.

This year’s AO3 Collection → HERE

Before we get more into the rules, I’d like to give a special thanks to everyone who submitted a prompt through our discord server back in September and all 85 of you who voted on the prompts these past few weeks. Event Info & Rules

DadDecember is an annual prompt month featuring platonic father and child relationships. We have a collection of prompts for each day meant to inspire works to be created.

*Due to the nature of this event being platonic, do not submit father/child incestual content. That is not the point of this event. This event is strictly platonic. Thank you for understanding.

There are 62 prompts this year with 10 alternative prompts. Each day has two prompts, one situational/trope prompt and one dialogue prompt. You do not need to use both. While we do encourage you to mix and match prompts with different days to fit your specific WIP, we do ask that you tag the prompt you used, not just the day.

This is a prompt month meant to inspire works, so please don’t take any of the prompts too seriously! If you want to get silly with it or really angsty, that’s up to you! How much of the prompt you use and how you use it is all up to you! If you think it fits the prompt, then it does. There is no gatekeeping in DadDecember.

It’s up to the creator how much they want to produce or what media form they want to create in! Anything and everything counts (and if you’re really unsure, you can always ask!). The idea of the event is to create, no matter in the manner you do so. 

As far as “how much do I need to do in order for it to count?” – Well, that’s up to you! All participants, regardless of how many works they put out, will be recognized for their efforts! A google form will be sent out after December ends in which you will be able to say how many works you completed. Works do not need to be published in any way shape or form to count. Participants will be ranked by completion in a tumblr post after the form closes and a custom role will be available for completionists in our discord server.

Should you wish to upload some of your DadDec content to Tumblr, use these tags:

Required tags:

#daddecember 

#daddecember2023

#sfw or #nsfw

Optional Tags (but appreciated if used)

#DadDec No.1, #DadDec No.2, #DadDec No.3, ect.

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings and content warnings. Add “tw” or “cw” AFTER the trigger/content warning )

For the sfw/nsfw tag, please use your best judgment. A Mature or Explicit rating (for anything except gore) should be marked as nsfw.

Reblogging Policies:

Due to the nature of the blog and for the safety of all fellow participants, nsfw posts will not be reblogged. - These works are still very much welcome in the AO3 collection.

You MUST tag @daddecember if you wish for your work to be reblogged

If you notice your work has not been reblogged (+ you tagged us) and it has been 2+ days, please send us an ask! It is likely that tumblr ate the notification.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much as you would like! Whether you can get out one piece between now and the end of December or 45, we are here to encourage you all along the way!

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. Due to time constraints, we may not reblog posts outside of December (pinging @Mod Addri via discord will always get you reblogged, though, so you can always try that ;) ).

Q. Can I combine DadDecember with other creation challenges?

Yes, as long as the other challenges allow it as well. Please reference their rules.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only will count once for your total completion number (unless combined with a different unused prompt).

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes, you can post WIPs. Snippets or other forms of WIPs are completely fine and will still count for completion! As long as you started it, feel free to count it!

Q. Is collaborating allowed?

Absolutely, we even encourage it! Collaborations can be an amazing way to get full completion status (especially if you’re competitive) without as much work! It would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before December?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a little over a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. Do I have to use your required tags?

If you want your work reblogged, yes.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Best of luck,

Mod Addri

Also: A special thanks to @eliserael for creating the prompt images!

Written out Prompt List:

Day 1: Reverse Adoption | "I trusted you." Day 2: Snowed In | "I thought I would never see you again" Day 3: Snuggling | "Midnight fast food run?" Day 4: Forehead Kiss | "I'm going to kill you" Day 5: Little Things | "And what about rocks in snowballs?" Day 6: Prison Visit | "There's no gift better than revenge" Day 7: Blizzard | "I won--- WOAH!" Day 8: Holiday Reunion | "Is it supposed to tilt?" Day 9: Abandonment | "You've never wrapped a present before, have you?" Day 10: Emergency Room Trip | "Say goodbye now." Day 11: Patricide | "It's alright to be afraid" Day 12: Hero & Villain | "Oh, I thought presents weren't a thing." Day 13: Vault | "Close your eyes" Day 14: Tucking Into Bed | "Would you hold my hand?" Day 15: Late Nights | "Why didn't you tell me?" Day 16: Decorating Gone Wrong | "You remembered?" Day 17: Secret Santa | "I swear if you fail---" Day 18: Meet the Parents | "Don't do that again" Day 19: Parent-Teacher Conference | "Who are you?" Day 20: Warm Drink | "Is Santa actually real?" Day 21: Home Alone | "Breath in an--- breath out" Day 22: Overseas | "I don't think that's how snow angels work." Day 23: Adoption | "Did you put in sugar or salt?" Day 24: Glitter Overload | "You made bricks, not gingerbread" Day 25: Holidays | "My snow castle is bigger than yours!" Day 26: Disappearance | "Do you have any idea how much paper this thing took?" Day 27: Snow Angels | "Let me sing you a lullaby" Day 28: Burnout | "You hurt me, you know?" Day 29: Injury | "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this?" Day 30: Parentage Reveal | "I love you" Day 31: A New Year | "Would you rather…"

Alternative Prompts:

"I'm not a fan of pain"

Early Mornings

"It wasn't my fault"

In My Time of Need

"This is what I call a surprise!"

A Scooby-Doo Worthy Mystery

"Could I have some flowers?"

A League of Their Own

"Liar, liar, LIAR"

Family Murder

Discord Server + AO3 links for previewing:

#daddecember #daddecember2023 #updates #events #announcement #fandom events

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter III

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount 4k

Title Dragonet

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Poseidon x reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Mentions of blood and piercing; mentions of nudity

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So, after almost saying sorry for the wordcount in the previous chapter, here I am with an even longer one lol I've put much effort in this one, specially bc it's the wedding night ;) (wedding nights are, apparently, on of my fav things to write).

A few words about the title: dragonets are a group/category of small, colorful fishes of "shy" behavior, greatly appreciated for people who raise fishes in aquariums. There are really interesting things about them to research :)

Also, I want to apologize in anticipation for the use of the word "manhood" in this chapter bc though I think it sounds good when it's isolated, it feels kinda ridiculous when you contextualize it (but this is just my opinion as someone who doesn't have English as their first language lol)

The Lord of the Seas, as silent as his own domain before a storm, didn’t give any signs that he has noticed your presence in the room until he stopped by your side before the altar, but a moment under his glare was enough to make you wish you were invisible.

He kept looking at your whole form, examining your appearance, that is, his servants’ work through the aspect of your hair, your skin and the gown you were wearing, analyzing your movements, the way you were staring at him, your breath, your shivers, everything. Those eyes, you guessed, were the eyes of someone who was used to have people’s lives and deaths in his hands, and you had no doubts that he could finish you right there if he decided you weren’t worthy of his time.

Fortunately for you – or not, you still didn’t know – you were worthy, and after his examinations, he opened his mouth… doing this to give you an order, as expected.

– Come forward. You are too distant from the altar.

Unlike you imagined, Poseidon had a soft, low voice, typical of a young man.

You hesitated, though you understood what was said, and for the first time a wrinkle of irritation appeared on his forehead.

– You are too distant from the altar, human.

The sentence was repeated in a slightly higher tone, but not even this was enough for you to make a move toward him. When he took one step toward you, it was the end of your self-control: you stepped back, and would have run away if he hasn’t reached you in a second. Your legs almost failed you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t let out a scream.

He raised his hand and you closed your eyes tight, too scared to see what was going to happen, but you opened them again when you felt his hand closing around your jawline; his skin was warm and his grip was far from rude.

What he did after that, however, made you doubt what you were experiencing.

First, he moved your face from one side to the other, as to verify its conditions; the second step was to raise his free hand to your ears’ height and snap his fingers beside each one, making you flinch; he then put his hand at your eyes’ height and showed you three fingers, moving them and observing as your eyes followed everything.

– Tell me – he ordered – How many fingers you see here?

You replied with some difficulty, less because your movements were limited by his hand than because of your nervousness.

– Three… – and, before you forgot the appropriate treatment, – Poseidon-sama.

Finally, he lowered his hand and let go of your jawline. Less patience was sensed in his voice when he spoke again.

– Now, tell me. If you can talk, if you can see me, hear my voice and understand what I say... Why don’t you respond when I speak to you?

You swallowed, and no word was heard from you. You could barely raise your eyes to him, but when you did, you saw him raising an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips curving themselves in a smirk.

What? A god can do this type of thing?

Apparently, not only he could do that, but he had also proficiency in teasing.

– Are you defying me, or are you just anxious?

You felt your cheeks warming up and looked away, but not before sensing his fingers touching your hair, brushing it behind your ear.

– So quiet, so hesitant and small... – he commented; and, with a chuckle, – I thought I would find a human here tonight, but instead of this… What are you? A dragonet?

Your eyes widened at the comparison. Now he was giving you names? What kind of man was that?

Your tongue was almost freed at that moment for you to make that very question, but before the words left your mouth, Poseidon grabbed your arm.

– There is no use for shyness here, woman. Come, now. Let's finish this.

He then led you to the spot he originally ordered you to take.

Now that you were seeing the altar from close, you could see details that went unnoticed before. For example, alongside the earrings, there was a white, folded piece of fabric on the tray, which use you didn’t find hard to guess: in case the bride didn’t have her ears pierced already, she would bleed, and the fabric would keep her clean. You used to wear earrings, but your last pair was taken away during the preparations for the wedding, as well as any other metallic object or jewel you might have had with you, so that you would be at least spared from the pain and the mess.

Poseidon took one of the pearls and approached it from your lips, holding it with his fingertips.

– Kiss it.

You obeyed, despite the strangeness of the instruction. He then moved your hair away from your right ear, exposing it, as well as your neck and collar, and pinned the earring on your lobe. You flinched at his touch, but one look from him and you stopped avoiding his hands.

The process was repeated with the second pearl, and you knew that the easiest part of the ceremony was over.

Poseidon was the first to speak after it.

– These pearls are the sign of the Emperor’s wives – he started – Not only for the others, but for yourself. From now on, your heart, your mind, your body and your spirit belong to me. Whenever I tell you to come, you come. When I tell you to leave, you leave. When I tell you to speak, you do it, and if I want you to be silent, you do it as well. You will carry my children, and only them; no one else can touch you and stay alive, for these pearls must be their only warning. No attempt of removing them will be tolerated, nor even if they come from yourself. Always remember this, and you will stay in my favor.

Finally, he raised the back of his right hand and told you to kiss it, as the ultimate sign of your compliance. No, you weren’t really agreeing with all of that; you never asked or expected it, but you gave him the kiss. You knew it was marking a permanent change in your life, but how many things have already changed since you were taken away from home? Even when you were trapped in the depths of the seas, marked as a god’s belonging, you still had hopes of finding your way, if not out of his domain, at least through it, but you would have to navigate between many things to get there, most of them unpleasing. You still had to learn where you were stepping into, and for this you had to study the territory.

Your study already began, with your arrival at the lodge and your friendship with Alyssa, and now it would continue with this strange wedding.

With the kiss, the ceremony was over. Poseidon held your wrist and, without any additional explanation, walked you around the altar, to the doors through which he arrived. With one hand, he pulled them, and a new path appeared before you.

His steps were steady, too fast for you to follow without panting; you would have stayed behind if he wasn’t holding you. At some point, when you almost stumbled, he finally stopped and turned to you, disappointed.

– Too slow.

You just stared at him, unable to speak.

– Humans used to be a bit stronger in the past – and, assuming a more serious tone, – I am not sure if I like what I see now.

And before you could think of a reaction, he grabbed you by your waist and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a little scream, and had no response from him but a tightening on his grip before he continued to walk on the same pace as before.

This is so humiliating.

The only advantage of this – if you could call it an advantage – was that you were spared from any anxiety that a longer trip to the chambers where your marriage would be consummated would provoke.

***

Poseidon only put you down when you passed the chambers’ entry, closing the door behind him.

You immediately stepped away from him when you reached the floor. You haven’t gone too far when you felt a warm, comfortable texture under your feet; you looked down and found a black carpet that covered the entire place, forming what seemed to be a black sea.

It was when you realized the wideness of that place.

It was like two or three rooms with your lodge’s size were built together, but without walls to separate them, and the existing ones were even higher, leading to a ceiling that reminded you of the skies out there, toward which you saw the bright star flying at that night. All around you, there was a cold, bluish light that touched everything, from the decorations on the walls and the furniture to your skin and gown, yet your sight was as good as if you were under the daylight.

Some meters ahead you, at your left, there was an enormous canopy bed with four columns and a golden shell on the top of each one, and with curtains and sheets so dark that they could be black or indigo under that light; the curtains were opened, but you couldn’t help wondering if you’d feel like drowning in an abyssal zone if they were closed around you. Not so far from it, there was a small table with a bottle upon it.

There’s oppression in each corner of this room.

All of this you noticed the instant when the door was being locked behind you; you turned to it, passing your arms around yourself. Your wedding night was going to happen, then.

Poseidon turned to you and, when he started walking at you direction, Proteus’ advice came back to your mind in a flash.

Trust the silence, the modesty and the compliance, and everything will be good for you.

Everything would be good if you chose to become his Lord’s wife. If you acted like he instructed, you would survive.

But would you still be you?

Anything that goes beyond this you will do at your own risk.

He spoke as if your death was a certainty in case you dared speak. However, if you didn’t do anything now, you would lose what made you human.

My freedom.

And maybe Proteus-sama needed to know more about humans, because if he understood that trying to prevent you from doing something by threatening you with the unknown was the precise way to encourage you to do it, he would never speak like that to you.

To him, my voice means my death. But, to me, it always meant change.

And because, besides a human, you were also a merchant.

And the best thing a merchant does is to trade.

You stopped trembling, and decided to make your first offer.

Right now, Poseidon was going to untie the stripes of his robe, but was still dressed with it. You pulled back and knelt on the carpet, with your palms before your head and your face hidden upon the ground.

You couldn’t see Poseidon’s expression when he saw that, but a sort of annoyance – and maybe a bit of confusion – was sensed in his voice.

– What is the meaning of this? Are you really going to beg for my favor right now?

You tried not to stutter in your reply.

– Yes, my Lord.

You heard him sigh.

– Well, whatever. What do you want to ask?

It was the moment.

– Please, my Lord… Kill me.

Now, a slight change in his voice was sensed: whatever he imagined you asking for, it was clear that he wasn’t expecting something like this.

– What?

You raised your eyes to him, afraid of going too far but eager to observe the emotions on his face while you spoke:

– Please... Kill me... Make me one of your servants... Or just throw me away... But do not make me a mother.

It was hard to tell if Poseidon was shocked or offended by your request. The best you could say was that he was intrigued.

– Do you understand what you are asking from me, human? I can finish you with a move of my hand if I want, yet you would prefer this rather than having my children? – and with a hint of indignation, – What kind of plead is this?

You couldn’t risk his patience now, as much as you couldn’t risk having your request denied. You took a moment to adjust your posture, kneeling with your hands upon your lap, not looking directly into his eyes, then started to speak lower, as if opening your heart to him.

– Poseidon-sama, if you give me a death like this, I would be honored. But if you make me bear a child, it would be the longest, the most painful death I can think of – your hands gripped on your gown – Please, show your wife mercy and don’t give her such fate.

The Lord of the Seas spent a moment observing you. Then, without saying a word, he turned his back on you and walked toward a corner of the room, out of your sight. When he came back, you shivered: he has now returned to his previous spot and had his Trident with him.

So... this is the fate he chose for me.

His grip around the weapon’s base increased, and he extended it toward you in the blink of an eye. You only had time to bow your head...

But the strike never came.

You looked again, and found the three blades pointing at you, at your eyes’ height, the metal shinning under the blue light.

He's not going to kill me, then?

– Touch it – he instructed – Beware of the blades.

You understood you were supposed to put your fingers upon the symbol beyond the blades, and did it. Despite not being made of the same material of them, it was sharp, and freezing to the touch. With all the possible caution, you moved your hand away, back to your lap, and the Trident was pulled back to his owner’s side.

– Here you have it. The sign of my favor. Now, on your feet.

You obeyed and he went to return the Trident to its place, then passed by the small table where you saw the bottle. He opened it and brought it to you: it was an interesting object, with an elliptical shape and a rounded cap, entirely decorated with small, reddish jewels and aged gold. Before you understood what was going on, he grabbed your jawline just like he did before and approached the bottle’s neck to your lips, making you swallow part of the content. You took two shots of the fluid, cold and bittersweet down your throat.

You coughed a bit when he moved the bottle away, putting it back on the table.

– What is this, my Lord? – you had the nerve to ask.

– I am simply answering your request – his reply was unfazed – With this, you will not be able to conceive for one month. The next month, on the same day, you will take it again.

You frowned.

– I don’t understand. If my request will be answered, why do I have to...

You never finished the sentence. You blinked and the next thing you knew it was your lips being silenced with his index finger, after he returned to your side in an instant. Apparently, moving so fast that mortal eyes can barely follow him was one of the Sea Lord’s abilities, something that you supposed to be both impressive and lethal.

He had the same smirk as before when he replied to you.

– Let me tell you something, dragonet. Killing you, thus making you a subject of my elder brother, would be rather a waste after bringing you here. Even worse would be making you a servant with these frail hands of yours – he grabbed your wrists and approached your right ear, whispering – And, concerning sending you away... do you think you would survive as a rejected offer? Do you even understand what it means?

You opened your mouth in shock and he chuckled.

– Not even your people would have mercy on you.

You remembered the relief in Alyssa’s tone when she said she was glad for being accepted.

So, there’s really a taboo surrounding rejected offers.

You didn’t have much time to think of this. You felt his arm passing around your waist and pulling you to him, in a way that you were forced to stay on tip toes, your hands upon his chest, with no chance to escape. With his free hand, Poseidon took a lock from your hair, approaching it from his nostrils, smelling it intensely as he let it slip between his fingers.

– Finally, I conceded you the favor of not becoming a mother, but you are still my wife, you understand? – he approached his lips to your neck, brushing them on your skin as he spoke – You were the one who took me out of boredom this year with this absurd request of yours. Who told you I would not want to see more of you?

Your eyes widened with that. So, he was indeed willing to keep you around.

Staying this close to him was not that bad, though: not only he was handsome, but his body was warm and the fabric of his robe was soft; besides, from him you could sense a deep, addicting fragrance that reminded you of the sweetness of flowers, with a hint of the salinity of the seas. You inhaled it in silence, wondering if it was elaborated to make women compliant.

All of this was observed carefully by Poseidon, and what he said to you about it made you hold your breath.

– Not only this, but you are a terrible liar, you know? – he whispered in your ear – I can sense, smell, your warmth, your arousal from here... It is still just a tiny bit, but it can always get better…

Just like at the beach, when you stood with the water at your waist and your body was too slow to react and avoid the next wave, there was no way to escape the one brought by the god who commanded all of them: the strength of his arm keeping you close to him, having only the thin fabric of his robe and your gown to separate you; his fragrance, which you still weren’t sure to be a perfume or his natural scent; his breath upon your ear, your neck as he spoke; his voice, soft and composed yet youthful, sweet even in the coldest threats and mockery, invading your thoughts like a lullaby, numbing your senses, making his authority acceptable.

If this is what facing a god feels like… how do I fight him?

Not knowing how, you didn’t fight. However, you hoped that one day you would find the answer, for the path to it was right there with you.

The answer is himself.

This thought barely crossed your mind when Poseidon suddenly released you from his grip, and you almost fell. Before you did, you felt his hand holding your left arm, while the other grabbed your gown by the cleavage and pulled it with no hesitation; in a second, the pretty piece was turned into shreds that were promptly discarded with one move of his hand.

You covered your mouth, then your chest with the shock. That was the reason behind that servant’s laughter and the enigmatic response of her partner: you didn’t receive anything more because you wouldn’t need anything more.

His eyes passed all over you, in a way that nothing escaped from them – not even the tremble in your legs. It wasn’t clear that if he approved what he saw, but whatever he might have found displeasing, he would discuss it with his servants later. You pitied them for the tyrannical lord they had to serve.

Poseidon let go of your arm and unraveled the stripe of his robe, getting rid of it as fast as he did with your gown. The blue fabric fell to his feet, exposing everything and making you understand that it wasn’t for nothing that he held such prideful posture.

He was perfect in every possible detail.

At that moment, none of you spoke, and you kept observing, feeling something between embarrassment and awe: the absence of flaws impressed and enchanted you, from the uniformed tone of his skin, to the thin, golden layers of hair shinning over it in different parts of his body; the line of his muscles, as defined as if made of marble; his broad chest and strong arms; the shape of his abdomen, his groins and manhood; his firm thighs and legs. It was hard not to imagine yourself being held, touched, taken by him, and that was precisely what he wanted you to think of, for he stood there long enough for you to catch all those details, fix them in your mind and give room to desire.

Of course. He expects me to give him my undivided attention.

And it was the easiest thing for him to get it, you had to admit.

He came closer to you again, but unlike you imagined, he didn’t surround you with his arms: instead, he held your left shoulder as to keep you in place while his free hand held your chin, in a way that looked more like a study than an attempt of seduction.

– I am going to prepare you first – he spoke more to himself than to you – Most humans use kisses for this type of thing, don’t they? It worked with the previous one – his thumb caressed your lips as he approached his own, whispering – It might work for you as well…

And it worked. As he approached his mouth and put it over yours, you closed your eyes, afraid that he would just suffocate you with greed, but none of this happened: he started with small, brief touches on your lips and the corners of them; noticing your compliance, he made the kisses longer and experimented with them, sucking your lower lip, opening your mouth to reach your tongue with his, while his hands started caressing your face, your neck and shoulders, then go all over your body, warming up your skin; they were strong, but didn’t lack gentleness.

As he extended his kisses to your chin, your neck and collarbone, with his hands continuing to work on the rest, you began to feel sleepy, even relaxed.

Even when humans aren’t common here, he really knows how to do it with them. Maybe these things are not that different with other folks.

When Poseidon understood it was the right time, he took you in his arms and carried you to the canopy bed. Concretizing your fear, he indeed closed the curtains when he laid you on the mattress, so the apprehension of being surrounded by darkness couldn’t be denied, but at the same time it was good not to have yourself exposed as before.

As cold ripples that reach your feet when you first enter the sea, you felt his hands touching your feet, then your legs; it tickled you, but when you tried to move them away, you sensed his hand closing around your ankle and pulling you down to him.

– Where are you going, dragonet? – he put his body over yours, and you sensed his hand leaning on the sheets beside your head – It is too late for this.

You didn’t reply. With his other hand, he searched for your mouth, and carried on with the kisses when he found it. At the same time, you felt his knee moving your leg to the side, separating it from the other as he laid upon you.

You were now one of Poseidon’s wives.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #ror poseidon #snv x reader #ror x reader #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader

[olderthannetfic]

Re: Hypertagging characters/ships for triggers, yeah as someone whos insane ass has a very serious trigger for a specific fictional character -particularly if they are portrayed in a positive light- I just Do Not Read Fic in that fandom by and large and blacklist it pretty hard.

It sucks I had to divorce myself from the fandom because I LIKED the earlier seasons and sometimes the fic was cute and good, but I simply cannot reasonably ask anyone to tag every mention of that character so I blacklist it all.

Its a me issue, NOT a them issue, so its my job to manage it and actually put effort into that.

That means blacklisting the show on every platform that is possible that I use, not following people who are likely to post that character, not consuming the new canon content of the show in case I get jumpscared with the character, and only ever intentionally looking for content if im in the right frame of mind to be able to stand simply seeing the name somewhere while I control+f a fic to see if they show up. I even sometimes ask friends to prescreen fics sometimes if I REALLY want to read something.

I make my own content if I want to engage with that media and I avoid the fandom. Its... I wont say its easy because it really sucks actually, but the world cannot and should not cater to me in that way. Its a competing access need and unreasonable to ask.

Its reasonable to ask a friend to warn/not deliberately show me that character- not NOT reasonable to ask a rando to do that.

Id even try to desensitize the trigger if I was in a good place for doing it but I am the wrong kind of insane to be doing that any time soon lol. Trauma work lays you right out.

To people wondering how anyone could be so fragile as to need something like that tagged; PTSD and other mental illnesses that cause serious triggers often latch onto innocuous things. Do you think I want to have such a 'cringe' trigger that causes me to [redacted] at best and have a dissociative panic attack-flashback combo AND [redacted] at worse? No its dumb as hell and I hate that there is very little to do to suppress it. Does that make the trigger go away? Also no. Its not like this is just me not liking or being uncomfortable with the character, this is an involuntary serious-hazard-to-health negative reaction I shant detail that sucks ass.

Yes us crazies do deserve to participate in fandom spaces too, we arent too broken to be barred from playing with everyone else- we just have to understand where the reasonable line is on accommodations for tagging, understand that competing access needs are a thing, and do the rest of the work ourselves.

Its not perfect but its the most good for the most people.

Id invite anyone who has a character/ship/etc trigger to seriously just blacklist the media and do what I do or even be more strict about it. You will feel so much better and more stable im not kidding. It sucks to lose a beloved fandom but you will feel so much better.

For everyone else- dont feel you need to tag every last mention on something. If you really want to be trigger friendly for some reason, you can put in the chapter notes all the minor mentions of stuff or w/e. Please Do Not put it in the proper tags.

--

Sadly, "dumb as hell" is a pretty default setting for triggers. If only brains were logical and behaved themselves! But one has to work with what one's got.

[damnedrainbows]

RULES:

These are five years old and are going to change with things to be added in the next few days, but they’re mostly the same! A i was informed they weren’t showing up on my blog so I made a pin for now

Muses:

Generally the entire show, but my mains are Alastor, Lucifer, and Charlie

Following and Unfollowing

I am selective.

I will only follow back blogs I actively wish to RP with. Or people I’ve made friends with. I’ll be ever grateful for every follower I get, but it doesn’t mean I’ll follow you back.

You don’t have to be an rp blog for me to rp with you. One of my partners is just a normal fandom blog. Writing is writing C:

I don’t do exclusives. For me I find it takes a lot of the opportunities away to get to know more cool people. If you want to make me an exclusive for something…go right ahead, but I won’t do the same. You’ll simply stay my partner. I want to be able to interact with everyone. That being said, I do mains! That doesn’t really mean anything other than your blog would be the first I tag if I see something that reminds me of our muses, that sorta thing.

If I hear wind that you’re harassing any of my friends you’re done. And if you’re harassing me in any way. I do not put up with bad treatment of my friends or me. You don’t want a block from me. Jordan doesn’t block ANYBODY.

Threads and Communication

Sometimes I’ll have long posts, sometimes short ones. It depends purely on my inspiration at the time, but I’ll always put my best effort in. I want you to do so too!

Before writing any verse you want to do, please talk to me first C:

I LIVE FOR RANDOM STARTERS TBH. It’s like…waking up to Christmas morning and seeing your present. Mutuals please drop me a random starter any time.

I play my characters the way I want to play them, the way I interpret them. So if you don’t like how they’re played, that’s fine, but I’m not likely to change it.

If you send IC memes please specify the muse, since…well, I have the whole show.

I’m of age so I do smut but nothing too-too graphic. It will be tagged of course.

My threads are for my PARTNER only. Or partners if it’s a threeway. Please do not reblog them. You can like em, you can use the little reply button to say something–if you really want to talk about something that’s happening in them shoot me a message-but do not reblog unless you are said partner. C:

For the love of God, don’t hound me. I’m aware I can take a while to reply, but I have a lot of threads usually at the same time and some I have more muse for than others. Please don’t link me to our thread, please don’t say “it’s your turn” or some sort of variation of passive aggressive harassment. You aren’t going to make me respond faster. You are just going to spark my anxiety and make me resent our rp. If it’s been four days feel free to message me–not four hours.

Unless you’re a canon character my muse needs to get to know you a bit. C: So it’s unlikely you can just pop up to one of my muses, never having met, like ‘hi, how you been?’ and not have them be like “who da fuck are you"

Shipping

Shipping will mainly be thread-dependent. If you feel like our muses may mesh, go for it!

I will not tolerate hate for what I ship. I don’t need to be told I’m shipping something unhealthy because chances are I’ll state it’s unhealthy and I by no means condone dating a psychopath in real life. Hate will be deleted and blocked.

When it comes to OC ships and any ship really, ship needs chemistry. Do not force a ship onto my muses. They need to get to know each other, and this mainly applies to OC ships–not so much the pr-established characters in the show. If I already ship it, I’m down to jumping straight into a shipping thread.

Crossovers

I am mildly less selective with crossovers since this show is literally…all about crossing over into other media. I’m still selective but not as much. For my own comfort I won’t be rping with characters from the Sonic franchise.

Triggers and Tagging

I know very little about triggers myself and what people consider a trigger. IF you want something tagged you’ll have to ask. I’ll be clueless otherwise, but I will tag all ships. And the basic gore and blood and such. Be aware of the fact I have bad memory problems. If I forget to tag something you asked me to tag I’m sorry, it wasn’t on purpose.

This is an insanely dark show and there will be a lot of blood and gore and horror. There will be torture and killing talk, but it will still be tagged.

Mun Notes

I have serious memory problems. Like, really bad due to a combo of illnesses. Cut me some slack, I’m going to forget rules and probably certain triggers if I’m not used to tagging them. You have no ida how many friggin rule pages I’ve read on this blog. I’ll do my best but I’m going to forget, and probably more than once. It’s not my fault, I’m trying my hardest.

I do not do passcodes. For some reason they make me…severely anxious and I don’t know why. If we rp, I’ve read your rules, rest assured. If you really really depend on a passcode…well, we probably won’t be rping then. ;-; sorry.

I’m a physically disabled person who’s online rather…all the time because I can’t work really. So rp is like all I got going on right now as I work on my animation portfolio at home.

I’m a very sweet twenty two four old that loves to talk to people. Talk to me any time about my muse, about anything! Feel free to approach me just to talk in general. I really love people! We don’t have to rp to be friends.

And finally, what I write, my characters’ views do not reflect my own. I do not condone the destruction of entire civilization or eating babies. Unless they are tasty babies.

#blog rules

[dsmprarepairbb]

i'm very excited for this as a rarepair enjoyer! this is a great thread on the subreddit that might be a good starting point to think of cut-off qualifications: https://www.reddit.com/r/FanFiction/comments/eohtgm/what_exactly_counts_as_a_rarepair/

while i'm very on board with this event, i think trying to say 'anything but dnf' can feel too targeted, and i don't think it's the intention at all, it might make people feel singled out or unwelcome here. for instance, i think karlnapity and quackbur are also ships that are worth disqualifying (and i say this as someone who loves those ships XD).

good luck with putting this together though! i know a lot of work goes into these things <3

I held onto this ask for a long time for a very specific reason: I really enjoy spreadsheets. I wanted to wait until after I had closed the interest check so I could go through all of the submitted ships so I could get some data to back up my reasoning.

And back up my reasoning it did.

A total of 75 ships (including DNF) were listed by people who said they were interested. I took all of these ships and looked them up on AO3. I decided to look at AO3 for this as this is going to be mostly about content creation, and I feel that utilizing the otp:true function helps a lot.

Of the 75 ships, 15 didn't show up on AO3 at all, no matter how much I looked. For the rest, however, I noted down the number of works both in the tag as a whole, and with the otp:true filter. I put this into a spreadsheet and generated a pie chart using the otp:true data that looks like this:

Due to this discrepancy, I feel that it is valid of me to make this current rarepair big bang only exclude DNF. I am retracting prior statements of excluding XDNF, as that ship was lower than I had thought. In the future, the list will be refined, but for now, the only ship excluded is DNF.

Further reasoning below the cut.

So, this is not the only chart that I did. I also did a pie chart of the unfiltered ships as well.

As you can see, this percentage is lower that otp:true, but you can still see that the gap is quite large. No other ship even compares. Also worth noting is that in this view, fics where a poly relationship is present can skew the results, as many chose to tag their fics not only with the poly ship, but also the individual pairings (or smaller groupings) of that ship.

I also generated a bar graph, but due to the amount of ships its very hard to read. The first label, DNF, is even pushed off the view so you can't see it, but I will attach it here anyways as reference.

yeah its...bad lol. Its so hard to read.

I am aware that in the link you put, there are multiple ways to go about this. As I said, in the future this will be changed. I am most likely going to make a tier list of sorts for these ships based on this data. Also, I did not calculate based off of percentage of fics in the fandom itself as so many of these fics are crossovers, and I felt it was a futile effort.

Also, for those curious, I'm going to post the data I collected just for funsies. The ones with a -1 were the 15 that didn't show up at all. They had to be denoted this way to ensure that they were sorted correctly. You can see that Karlnapity (#8) and quackbur (#4) are also listed!

(I also calculated what percentage of ships tagged like that were also true because I'm a nerd who likes writing formulas lmfao)

I love dnf! Its fun! But you gotta admit that its reach is significantly more than other ships'. Also a fun aside from a friend:

#answers

[antisocialgaycat]

an intro cos i havent done one yet lols

hello fun funky fresh and fabulous people, i am elle or elliot and i use they/them pronouns. i am part of many fandoms but the only one ill really be posting abt is newsies because its been replacing my each and every one of my braincells with hc ideas since i first watched it. be warned: i am very much a theatre kid.

I guarantee

Though I crapped out, I ain't tapped out!

i also speak/am learning a hell load of languages so lets look at them shall we

english: which i am legally fluent in and i speak it pretty good but ask me abt the weather and i will not respond (cos i cant lol)

fronch: learning it through my school, its kind of slay but at the same time it also very much not (maybe cos of the teacher lol) fun fact about french sports: if it has balls, its masculine (i sincerely apologise but its true)

yiddish: my first language :) this is the language that my auntie taught me when i was young, i then forgot most but got in touch with my aunt again and regained fluency. she is dead now but i will make an effort to keep speaking it as much as possible

indonesian: i can speak the basics cos i did it with my ps and ive been to indonesia a couple of times

german: i know a bit cos yiddish is similar and i know some conversational basics and shit

one of the indigenous australian languages: i can say an acknowledgement to country in my local indigenous language but i wont say which it is cos then people could figure out where i live and thats not the vibes

italian, spanish, polish, portugese, hebrew, russian, german, auslan: i can swear in all of these languages plus the ones above minus yiddish cos my fam dont swear and i dont trust google translate (i also know at least one insult all the languages on duolingo minus high valkyrian or however its spelt)

so yuh. languages.

other things abt me that idk where to put so im making a list:

i am irl friends with @just-sarah-xx and @quackethh (i tag them as #bestieboowifeyforlifey or #shawty bae <3<3<3 and #bitch (un)affectionate respectively) and also @boywithabeanie and @elemelom and @justalittleegg and others but i cannot be bothered tagging them right now (sorry)

australia is better than new zealand and clarinets are better than flutes

i do way too much performing arts for it to be considered healthy

i play/played cricket, netball, soccer and ice hockey (thats a joke ice hockey is actual so bad normal hockey is so much better and i will die by that)

i am a demiromantic asexual non-binary lesbian (thats a lot of words woah) and i get the most hopeless crushes on people its not even funny (unless ur my friends then its fucking hilarious) (looking at u sarah)

i will tag any original post with #just a load of garbage so if u dont want to see all my thoughts then js block the tag lols

so yuh

thats my intro

#just a load of garbage #intro post #yes i edited this fight me abt it

[sister-dear]

Maybe 19 or 26 from the soft prompts for Link/Groose/Zelda if you feel like it?

Alsdkjfsdfs. 26 (bed hair) immediately made me giggle so I had to go with that. XD Thank you for sending in a prompt! (For this soft fic prompt list!)

Fandom: Skyward Sword Pairing: Link/Groose/Zelda Other tags: fluff, established poly relationship Wordcount: 639

People expected, of the three of them, for Sky to be the sloppy one. It wasn’t an entirely unfounded assumption. After all, he wasn’t the most put together during his teen years. Always waking late meant always running out the door as fast as possible, clothes half on and boots undone and hair in whatever state he woke with it in. 

He’d gotten better over time. The unstructured nature of days on the surface suited him more than the strict schedule of the knight academy. It helped, too, to have not one but two people around with kisses and delicious breakfast smells to make getting out of bed more appealing. 

He’d also kept the locs he started wearing after those painful first few trips to the surface. Much easier to take care of it all that way down here, with the added benefit that he can do the maintenance it requires later on in the day when he’s feeling more awake and still have it look neat.

Zelda braids hers every night without fail. Sharing a bed with two men, she declared, was nowhere for loose, long hair. It did have more of a tendency to get caught under heads and stray elbows and Zelda’s own shoulders when it was loose. 

But Groose. 

Groose woke an absolute disaster every morning. Link knew he must spend at least some time on his appearance every morning. He hadn’t realized just how much until they all started sleeping in the same small house together.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d wrap his hair in a sleeping scarf like Link, or use less grease to keep the sides smooth. But he didn’t, and so of the three of them, Groose was the one who woke with the worst bedhead more often than not. 

Link just usually didn’t get to see it, because he usually woke long after Groose was up and looking his usual self. 

Not today. 

Today, light tinkling giggles invaded his dreams. Link smiled. Burrowing his face further into Zelda’s bosom, he let the gentle shaking of her chest lull him back down towards sleep, less concerned with whatever she laughed at as much with her being happy. 

But a light, persistent jostling kep him from sinking back into dreams. 

“Link,” she whispered. “Link, wake up. Look.”

Still groggy but curious now, he lifted his head away far enough to see her looking at something behind his back. 

Twisting around to see took a bit more effort than it might have, sandwiched between the two of them with Groose’s heavy arm flung over his waist, his hand on Zelda’s hip. Link got himself turned just far enough to see and promptly clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his snort. 

Groose’s hair. 

Somehow he’d managed to nudge the pompadour entirely sideways in his sleep. On his side with mouth open and drooling onto the pillow, his brilliantly red hair still stuck straight up into the air off the space just behind his ear.

“Do you think it would stick straight out to the side if he sat up?” he wondered, just loud enough for Zelda to hear. 

“I think it would.” Soft laughter followed her reply. 

Smiling, Link shuffled around until he could settle back how he’d been. 

“You’re looking a little messy, yourself,” he observed, smoothing down the flyaways that worked themselves free of her braid in the night. He yawned, feeling the siren call of sleep. It was still early. Too early to be awake. 

She smiled, soft in the dawn light. “You can brush it for me when you wake up.”

“His too?”

“That mess will need more than brushing, but you can try.”

“Sounds nice,” he mumbled, blinking heavy eyelids. The feeling of her lips pressing to his forehead chased him back into pleasant dreams.

#skyward sword #sksw #groose #zelda #link #myfic #groozelink #hopefully i got the spelling of that pairing name right laksjdfsd

[chipper-asks]

Hi! I've been following you for a good while now and have always rly admired the community you've build, and, your art itself, obviously, it's always very cozy in here. May be a strange question, but as a relatively popular artist on the interned, are there any tips you could share on how to engage and sustain an audience? maybe you know some recourses for artist to get their art seen? I've been an artist posting online for roughly 10 yrs and pretty much failed at accumulating any sort of prominent presence. I don't feel bad about it really, it's not why I do art per say, but these are pretty rough times and unfortunately other means of art monetization grow thinner with stupid updates & algorithms forcing anyone who can't afford payed adds or subscriptions out of business. I kinda have to make use of social media, even if it's not my element in the slightest. Feel free not to answer if you feel like it. Thanks in advance! Also big thanks for your shouts of my art overall, I really appreciate your support!

So I've had a post in my drafts for who knows how long detailing how to build and curate your audience online. But I haven't found a good way to go about posting it because I didn't want it to come off as tooting my own horn xD

BUT YOU HAVE ENABLED ME SO HERE WE GO!!!

(im going to generalize, you may already be doing some of these things but I think its good info for anyone who wants to build an online presence)

1. Engaging your audience

A: First, you have to think of the platform you're sharing your art on and what people use it for. Not even tumblr, but the internet as a whole. It is a place where people form communities and share information. It's also one of the most popular ways to mentally escape; from school, boredom, to the horrors of real life.

So if you want people to find you, make a space where they can escape/feel community.

This means: No callout posting, no venting, no doom posting, no politics, no guilt posting, no anything that would make you unfollow someone else if you were having a bad day.

It's okay to have an occasional vent or political post cause we're human, but trauma dumping is something thats very hard for someone else to read and honestly should you be putting that kind of information online, the internet is a place of community but it also isnt safe.

B: The Value of Fandoms

It's time for some metrics, featuring my own follower count.

I've been on tumblr for 9 years and I have been making an effort to grow my base as a way of getting money as a freelancer (like you) so I started doing this allll the way back in highschool. I can remember each milestone and which fandom I got them in

1,000 I got when I was posting stuff for Undertale

2,000 I got when I was posting stuff for The Property of Hate

there was a big break between these milestones where I was just drawing ocs and object heads and stuff, but nothing I was hyperfixated on

5,000 I got from Hollow Knight

but then something really unexpected happened.

In late 2021 and early 2022 I decided cringe was a worthless social construct and decided to fully indulge in my enjoyment of doodling dragons.

I juuust inched past 5,000 when 2022 started. I Ended Up With 12,000 as 2022 ended. That's more than double. As of posting this I am at 13,600 and its only February.

So how did that happen? I could tout along and say that it was simply luck and I wasn't really making an effort anyway but that's a big fuckin lie, i've been "selling out" this whole time (it's not fucking selling out to post in fandom. You like a thing? You go to the thing's community and post about the thing)

Posting in a fandom is essentially like, now bear with me, advertising for your blog. Fandom is where the eyes are and where the traffic goes. Big tags like #artistsontumblr #tumblrart #art are used OFTEN but they're too general and often people look for things that are specific. Fandoms like Hollow Knight, BNHA, Mob Psycho, The Owl House, etc are currently popping off and have a lot of traffic.

This doesn't necessarily mean that you need to join a popular fandom to post your work in to get followers, it just means that if you're into a show or a media, post it on your main art blog and don't make side blogs. Keep it all together

Why?

Because 5% of those fandom people stick around for YOUR STUFF and those 5% of people are the best goddamn people in the world. You want those 5% to see EVERYTHING you do and THEY'RE the ones who will recommend you to THEIR friends and do outreach on your behalf because they like YOU and not YOUR STUFF.

i fuckin love those guys

So as you hop from fandom to fandom, you're going to lose some people but that's fine. Everyone curates their experience online and if you head off in a direction they don't like then they can deal with it. The rest come along for the ride cause 1: they either really like your stuff or 2: are into the new thing you're getting into.

SO ANYWAY

posting in fandoms under one name is GOOD because it puts everyone in the same bucket that will see your stuff and there's a chance that a few will stick just for your stuff. It is not cheap, its how you reach out to people to help cheer up their day and escape from things stressing them out.

C: What should you post?

So this is something that isn't an exact science but if you're looking to increase your follower count, this is something you can keep in mind.

Because this is the internet and the digital word of escaping from stress, people flock to things that are

1: Familiar 2: Funny 3: Relatable

So i've already been over fandoms and that's something that goes into the Familiar category. Familiar can also mean generalized but still popular concepts, like werewolves, dragons, vampires, apocalyptic scenarios, etc.

The more you trail into something niche, like marine biology, the seelie/unseelie courts, object heads, etc, the less traffic you'll find. There are communities centered around these but they're not massive like certain fandoms.

Which is how you end up with artists who spend hours upon hours on every piece only getting like 14 - 32 notes per piece. It's not lack of people caring or lack of interest, its the fact that these artists haven't "advertised" their blogs in fandom. Those people who end up caring about more personal posts are those 5% you find from fandom spaces. Their Familiar from that fandom begins to include your artwork as Familiar and thus they're more likely to share it.

Funny is simple. Tumblr is a platform of shitposts and memes. Do you have a favorite character in a fandom? Shitpost them. 2 birds with one stone, Familiar and Funny. I can't teach you how to be funny, but if you see something that makes you laugh online, pause and try to find out why and see if you can replicate it. (You wont get it in one go)

Relate-ability is also simple. If someone finds something they can easily associate with they will eagerly tag #mood #me or @ one of their friends in the post.

What doesn't get people following just by itself is your skill.

This sounds really fucking depressing but hear me out.

Your skill in art is a multiplier. It can take those three categories from above and BOOST IT to fantastic new heights. People love things that are from their fandoms that are funny and relate-able. People go FERAL for shit that is from their fandoms that are funny, relate-able AND COOL AS FUCK. If art represented x5 in an equation and you have nothing else, you get 0. If you include any of those three other things and then x5, you get something grand.

2. Sustaining your Audience.

If you want to set up your blog as a platform to eventually gain freelance income from, you need to make it yours and not your audience's.

This is key to prevent burnout and feeling obligation to create for thousands of featureless faces and losing sight of what made you enjoy art in the first place.

It is REALLY EASY to fall into that pit, especially as you grow your audience. When you have a small audience, it's easier to interact one on one with someone. Engagement is exciting when you have a small audience! People? Interested in your work!! Fuck yeah!!

But as you reach those milestones, the vibe begins to change. More and more people demand your attention. People who are new don't see you as an artist they knew from another fandom, they see you as a content creator and that is the worst goddamn stone wheel to get stuck around your neck.

You can still respond to requests and answer silly questions, but now you have to keep in mind that if you draw this little dragon for someone, three other people are going to ask for their own little dragons. And that's fine because you love dragons and they asked so nicely. You make those dragons but now there's seven people asking for their own dragons and you actually want to work on something other than dragons-- but you made those dragon doodles for those other people so wouldn't it be hypocritical to say no-

It becomes a spiral.

So to prevent that situation from happening, you need to respect your boundaries as an artist and what you will do and what you will draw the line at. If someone doesn't like you for that, they can unfollow.

In terms of posting regularly to sustain your audience, i've found that it helps but ultimately doesn't matter.

(this is a tumblr centric view, i cannot say the same for other platforms)

The way tumblr works resembles a massive recycling facility. You will see shit on your dash from 7 years ago but you dont mind, its how this place works.

It doesn't matter how often you post. You won't lose priority on people's dashboards if you don't make your daily art post. What matters is that you just make the post.

Each post you make is like sending out a bucket of chum into the grand ocean of tumblr. The more buckets of chum you have, the more likely you are to attract fish. The more you post the larger your radius is. The more variety you make in spreading out to different fandoms the wider your range is. And these spots of chum don't go away! They're permanent brown spots in a big blue wasteland and fish will stumble across it and then try to find the source.

Basically, you can disappear for an entire month and then suddenly return out of nowhere and shove 57 posts into a week and then disappear again and people will show up and stick around.

THis post is getting really long and there are probably some things im missing but my hadns are getting achy and i think that's my call to stop :p

if you have anymore questions tho im very willing to answer 👍

#asks #long post #nofandom

[liauditore]

Thought I might say hello and make some small talk, seeing that I'm camping on your trafficshipping tag and all.

Well hi! Lovely place you've got here. Fantastic art, GREAT vibes, very nice. I'm specially enjoying your character rambling; your takes on them are super interesting and they tickle my brain 👀

May I send Divorce Fource/Quartet and Majorwood for the shipping bingo? Divorce Fource were a right mess (affectionate <3) and a perfect one at that, but I can't help but wonder how the recipe would have turned out if the soul ties were Cleo-Pearl, Martyn-Scott.

Also there is so much potential in Limlife Majorwood for eroguro if you're nasty. Which I am. Time cannibalism, respawning mechanics, birthday time... blender go brrrr 👀

!!!!!!!

y'all are really enabling my habit of long ass posts huh 😭😭

OK SO first off thankyou so much?? thats so sweet?????? 😭😭 i really don't think my character ramblings are anything special, but i like reading other ppls insane takes so i thought i'd provide others with the same 👍

not to get too into it but i feel like a series like life smp is best enjoyed with your own crazy delulu takes (similar to touhou if anyone heres familiar w/ that fandom). and it makes me kinda sad to see ppl arguing abt whats 'canon' or 'correct' cus that's no fun lol

ANYWAY yeah uh im glad u like the vibes!! :J

TREEBARK

this one first cus chronology. I honestly don't know if there's anything I can say here that hasn't been said before? But yeah they're. tasty. something about martyn waiting the entirety of third life to betray ren and never getting the chance and now longing to have him back. lots of regret but regret. for what. yknow. and ren always looking out for martyn even from a distance. and then martyn losing that connection in limlife.

yeah i can see why people ship lmao

uhh i don't really know what else to write here so have some of my insane ramblings copy+pasted from my shipping doc 👍

Martyn fancies himself a schemer, someone who's not afraid to play the game the way it's intended. If that means earning a powerful ally's trust only to shatter it then he was going to do it. Only, Martyn's bark is worse than his bite, and every night he spends in lying awake in those soft, warm sheets that Ren had laid out just for him (freshly washed too, he might add. Smelled like sunshine) he wonders if he can do it. He can, of course. (he can't. he won't. he's too soft. soft and useless.) He'd cut his head off already. (he wants to vomit) (this is why no one needs you. wants you. loves you) Who cares about other people anyway? He is the only one who really matters. (the thought of being alone makes him want to cry) Ren, on the other hand, is a capable leader. The definition of loyal and dependable, if not a bit dramatic. He struggles with self-worth, being good enough, useful enough, powerful enough. But to others, he's the opposite, caring and protective of any who would ask for his aid. After all, every citizen deserves to live in safety and comfort, and providing that is what a good King would do. ~ Martyn's not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Ren knows. Ren sees the signs. It's a death game for a reason. But he doesn't let Martyn know. He doesn't even hold it against him. He doesn't see the bloodthirst anymore, only the broken pieces lying underneath. ~ or the King's Hand, it was the thrill of feeling Useful, Powerful, Feared (loved). He was going to miss it after he betrayed him, the high of bloodlust, the smell in the air as he charged into battle. (the way his hands held him so gently) For the King himself, deep down he knew it was never to be. He had met a monster, but he hoped his efforts calmed the storm ever so slightly. On some days, he pretends to forget about the death game entirely and imagines the speech he'd give to retire his Hand. "You don't have to fight anymore," he'd say, "I'll take care of you from now on, I promise. So put the sword down, okay?" But in the end, it was all a fantasy, wasn't it?

^ yes this is so cheesy but so are they.

Cry with me again Smile with me again Scream with me again Sing with me again Dance with me again Talk to me again…

"Lower One's Eyes" (Oktavia translyrics)

MAJORWOOD

I think.. I talk too much abt scott seeing as that's who everyone points out when it comes to my headcanons 😭😭 but uh i swear everyone else is just as messed up. and martyn is like. just as bad if not worse (if that wasn't made clear from my ramblings before)

anyway uh say it with me rebound 👏 relationship 👏

i think they're both.. very numb to it all once limlife rolls around. they're just tired and have this mutual understanding and both think they're horrible people. martyn just wants to play the game. scott doesn't even know what he wants anymore.

but ofc, they're both still human and want love and comfort, so they try to seek that from one another. even if it's fake. even if it doesn't matter in the end.

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

Washing Machine Heart (Mitski)

We’re the Delusioned Victim Cash-in Union Praise to the “love” that will bring salvation!  Two fools singing to a shallow melody Restart, reflation, teleportation Time and again we’re stuck in rotation Circles inside a love without any ending

MKDR (SirHamnet Lyrics)

Scott uses Martyn as a replacement for Jimmy and Martyn uses Scott as a replacement for Ren. they know they dislike eachother (see: all of double life) and that only one of them will make it out alive. but they can't get that love and comfort from anyone else now.

also uhhh eroguro my beloved...... im assuming this is getting brought up cus of my mentions of loving eroguro in the past. and yes to all of that very much i agree. but i do have kind of.. a limit to what i do w/ these characters specifically because of the fandom/ccs (at least publicly). if i ever do decide to share the nastier stuff in my head or go into detail on gore and whatnot i'd probs make a sideblog and tuck it away and maybe block scott and martyn for always somehow showing up on my posts lmao

#asks #ask games #trafficshipping #treebark #majorwood #the 'team BEST/divorce quartet enjoyer' thing in my pinned is just code for #'i will go insane abt any ship involving any of these guys' #i didn't do divorce quartet as a whole soz just cus that would be WAYY TOO LONG Actually 😭😭 #and also a lot of it i feel is already covered thru majorwood and zombiewood #but yeah they're so messed up therapy aint helping that situation y'all need lawyers