#not that i mind too much its just kinda nice to be able to throw my work out into a void

[mae-i-scribble]

Since I have so many words lying around, probably for things that will never get finished, I figured i might as well start up wip wednesdays again :D. Today being the orv edition. This is a snippet of one convo i wrote for a weird fusion of the movie Your Name with sci-fi/post apocalypse elements. This would be near the climax of it all, once secrets have come out (spoiler alert there are some time shenanigans ocuring.

This is the first bit of orv writing i ever did, even before i had finished the novel and by now i’ve decided to change how i write out names but if anyone has info on proper formatting i’d be happy to hear em.

Yoo Junghyeok thought that people wanted to fight for their lives. He’s seen them struggling tooth and nail for even the chance to survive. Some overcome it, some succumb to what they think is an inevitable end. Kim Dokja hasn’t even tried. For most people, he would just consider them fools and move on, but Kim Dokja is no fool. Begrudgingly, Yoo Junghyeok has to acknowledge that in fact, Kim Dokja is perhaps the most clever person he knows. What is all that knowledge good for if not to save his own skin? Kim Dokja has poured everything into making sure Yoo Junghyeok succeeded, and expected Yoo Junhyeok to abandon him in return? Damnable man. 

In front of him stands a door, number 3403. Yoo Junghyeok is forced to wrench it open when it doesn’t open on its own. 

“Kim Dokja!” 

“You’re so stubborn, you damned sunfish.”

Yoo Junghyeok, whirls around. He’s frozen for a second, taken aback to be looking at a near copy of the face he’s come to know over the past year as his own skin, staring at it in the mirror. This version of Kim Dokja is older than the one he inhabited, none of the baby fat on his cheeks and eyes far sharper. He’s still too thin, and that smile is as punchable as Yoo Junghyeok always thought it to be. 

The horns and wings are a surprise though. Kim Dokja hasn’t mentioned them once. The horns are somewhat unobtrusive, all black and standing up straight in the center of his head. However, the dark maroon wings stretch out wide, wingspan likely twice Kim Dokja’s height.  Not that it stops Yoo Junghyeok from silently stomping over and promptly doing what he’s wanted to do since this entire body switching dilemma began. 

He punches Kim Dokja squarely in the jaw. 

Kim Dokja has the audacity to not even look surprised, he rubs a hand along his chin, wiping away the blood with a smile. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t be able to touch me here. Pity. Hey, if you hit me once, that means I should be able to hit you back, right?” 

There are a million other things Yoo Junghyeok should be telling Kim Dokja right now, plans he should be forming to save this crafty sacrificial bastard. Instead, he finds himself saying, “Try it.” 

Kim Dokja sighs. “I value my life, thank you very much.” 

“Clearly not.” Yoo Junghyeok glares at the man. 

Kim Dokja blinks. “Ah. Right.” 

“Where is your body?” 

Kim Dokja has the audacity to chuckle. “I’m sitting right in front of you. Don’t tell me that coming here made you blind.” 

Yoo Junghyeok reaches for his sword. “Physically.” 

“Alright, alright, I don’t particularly feel like dying again.” Kim Dokja puts his hands up. “It’s around here somewhere. Couldn’t tell you where though.” 

Bullshit. Kim Dokja remembers details down to the smallest piece. He probably knows in what room his body is in currently. “Kim Dokja.” 

“You know that this future shouldn’t be changed.” 

#orv #omniscient reader #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #its technically a joongdok au but like this snippet isnt about them so eh?? #anyways sorry its long i just needed to include some form of context #i kinda want to make a post explaining the au bc i think its a neat idea that i'll never fully write #these posts dont usually get much engagement so im not expecting much on that end #not that i mind too much its just kinda nice to be able to throw my work out into a void #its a little motivator to keep me writing #maely writes

[bomber-grl]

Just friends..?

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Male reader (established relationship)

Summary: reader and Damian have a relationship that isn’t necessarily a secret yet somehow still unknown by the bat fam + the bat fam reacting to Damian having a boyfriend mix

You walked into the Wayne manor and reached the front door.

You and Damian had started dating so long ago you almost didn’t remember when.

But, for some reason, everyone thought you were just friends.

Despite being able to access any and all information about someone, having cameras everywhere, the Wayne family still had no clue about you and Damian’s relationship.

“Hey” Damian said as he slung open the door and motioned you in. You gladly walked in as this hadn’t been the first time you were over.

You and Damian walked into the living room where the fam was gathered and they all greeted you, Bruce spoke up.

“It’s nice to know Damian has a friend that has stuck around.”

Tim laughed, “yea… friends.”

Although neither you or Damian has ever disclosed your relationship it was like Tim knew. Maybe it was the gay in him.

“Whatever” Damian said as he left and ran for the stairs upstairs

Before you turned the corner Alfred spoke out that he’d call you down for dinner and Damian yelled back in agreement.

You both made it down the hall and into his room, he closed the door then let gravity take its affect on his body and lay sprawled out with very obvious implication that he wanted you to join him.

You followed in suite, I mean who are you to deny him? And you laid besides him on your stomach.

You laughed “why so mad Damian?” You started playing with his hair.

“I’m not mad” he furrowed his eyebrows in a way you couldn’t help but find cute and just nodded in defeat

He got up from his laying position and leaned in to kiss your cheek but then the door slammed open and Damian practically flew to the other side of the room.

It was Jason.

“Hey lil man I brought you some of your fav chips and-“

Damian interrupted “Jason! I told you to knock before entering.”

Now he really was mad.

“My bad lil bro” he scratched his head “I didn’t realize your lil boyfriend was here.

You and Damian both knew Jason didn’t know of your relationship but he always called you his (Damian’s) lil boyfriend since all Damian would do was yap about you (Jason’s words)

He made his way to throw the chips at Damian and made it a point that Damian really should lock the door next time, also taking a pillow to the face in the process.

He then left before Damian could pull out his daggers. The noise of the door clinking shut.

“No one respects privacy in this house” he rolled his eyes.

“Calm down Damian, I mean he’s kinda right, we should lock the door if we don’t want to be disturbed- “

“It doesn’t matter, Jason’s probably going to pick the lock regardless” Damian said laying back limp on the bed and you resumed your position.

You two began idly speaking about whatever came to mind at the moment and you spoke without thinking.

You propped yourself on your arm and turned to Damian “You’re such a good friend Damian”

You said this smiling knowing you’d get a roll of the eye and get ignored or he’d throw a pillow at you.

Instead he laughed, yea, laughed.

“Yea, I’m so glad I get to have a friend like you” he said sarcastically.

You lean in and push a stray hair away from his face “ don’t you mean boyfriend?”

“Maybe” he said giggling

You both leaned in half ways and your lips met. The kissing lasted abnormally long than usual and at one point he pulled you over him and put his arms around your neck.

It was a sweet moment and maybe not so sweet as he’d let his hands wander but not too much.

“Hey Damian, Alfred told me to-“

as predictable as always someone bursted in, but ofc it had to be Tim.

The two of you suddenly decided to follow the “keep your hands to yourself rule” and instantly pushed each other away.

But the damage was already done.

“WHAT THE- yknow what? Already knew it, I’m just surprised anyone would date Damian”

“Get out.” Damian said very much upset

“Okkkk but I just came to tell u Alfred says to come down so…” and with that he left.

Damian let a very loud sigh and rubbed at his temples “hopefully he doesn’t say anything..”

“Would that be such a bad thing..?” You asked this clearly wanting an answer, one that Damian was at a lost to answering.

“No- I just, I’m just nervous on how my family would react, especially father…“

He made a point at not looking at you but once you held his hand he relaxed and nodded.

-

You both came down stairs and made your way to dinner hand in hand.

The warm lighting of the dining hall that contrasted his rooms darkness welcomed you both but the 8 eyes boring into your face wasn’t exactly helping.

you and Damian sat down, well just you, Damian was still standing.

“As you all know me and y/n are dating-“

“What?”

Cue silence

Damian started up again “what do u mean what?“ his eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing .

“I meant what I said, what?“

Cass said this raising an eyebrow and leaning back to relax.

“Wait. So Tim didn’t tell everyone me and y/n are dating?”

Everyone whipped their heads towards Tim who was preoccupied with his phone and once he realized and finally looked up his face wore an offended expression. “Nope, we have our ups and downs but I’d never out you” he just shrugged and looked back down at his phone.

“Uh.. ok well that’s the news i guess? Surprise?” He obviously didn’t expect this to happen but I guess it’s better than some outcomes..?

“Thanks for telling us Damian, I’m proud of you” Grayson pitched in and smiled at the two of you.

“Agreed you’re cute together” Steph mentioned leaning on her hand.

“Yea and even if we I kinda knew (he didn’t) but that’s amazing for you guys, seriously” Jason added and everyone else nodded in agreement.

While everyone else pitched in their words of approval, a cough interrupted at the other end of the table.

Bruce

“I’m.. glad you were able to tell us this news but, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Wow

Just wow

Damian’s face was literally just looking at everyone else like he was above them.

“Why didn’t we tell you? We would go on dates, hold hands, Kiss???? And you all still didn’t know?? The only one who knew was Alfred”

Cue everyone looking at Alfred and him just nodding.

“He was the only one to acknowledge y/n as my boyfriend” Damian was so flabbergasted it was honestly hilarious.

After awhile and a very serious discussion everyone finally knew you two were together and soon the public did too.

(Either the two of you came out to announce it or it was exposed I don’t make the rules 🤷‍♀️)

——————————————————————————

Here ya go! :)

#gn reader #male reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfic fluff #damian wayne x reader #fluff headcanons #damian wayne #gay #boyfriend #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne headcanon #older damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne fanfiction #damian robin #robin damian

[queer-overwatch]

Hi!! Could I request maybe a Venture x Reader (Any pronouns will do) on like a museum date? I want Venture to yap.Please and Thank you. ( Also bless the both of you I needed more Venture content I was tweaking without them)

Venture at a Museum!

Aaa ty sm for the request!!! I love that idea so much- they are such a yapper I love them <3 also your welcome hehe, had to take thing into our own hands >:3 (also bc u didn't request a specific format (like hcs or oneshot) i just did a short lil oneshot, hope thats okay!) -Frisk

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

"Look, look- they have a whole section on rocks! Kinda basic selection but it's still rocks!"

You never thought you'd be able to learn so much about rocks in one day, but it seemed like Venture had made it their personal mission to force as much information into your brain as possible. You didn't mind, really! It was always nice listening to them rant about all the cool stuff they found while walking around the museum you'd planned to bring them to, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"Augh, I love sedimentary rocks- they're my favorite! 'cuz sometimes they have like, little fossils in them and I'm like, "Woah! A cool thing in another cool thing!" and it's awesome! One time I found a trilobite fossil in a rock, it was so cool! I wonder if they have any here- that'd be so amazing! I wonder what they taste like-"

After spilling every single fact they could think of about the rocks on display, Venture drags you to a section of the museum dedicated to Egyptian history, though they mostly just seemed interested in the architecture of the pyramids. You really did try to listen, but you mostly just caught the gist of their long, long, long explanations- something about a Mastaba being like a sort of prototype to pyramids? You were just happy to see them so excited, even if you didn't quite understand what they were so hyped about.

"Oh, if only that British lady could go back to ancient Egypt and get the architects of their time to answer my questions! I'd give anything to be able to do that!" Sensing the slight disappointment creeping up on them, you decide to try and bring Venture elsewhere, not wanting them to spend any energy on being upset by what they can't do.

"Why don't we go look at the dinosaur fossils? I'm sure there's some mistakes in the descriptions that you can correct!" You take their hand, gently pulling them away from the long essay-like description of images of the pyramids that they were reading. Incising them with promises of being able to show off their intensive knowledge of dinosaur fossils, or fossils in general.

Venture perked up almost immediately, following behind you as they ready themselves to go on and on about their favorite dinosaur ever, the Deinocheirus! You tried to ask why it was their favorite ones, and all they said was something about it being "them fr fr" and having rocks in its stomach. You weren't too keen on questioning that one.

They take a large step so they're walking next to you, swinging your arms as you walk, "It's always been one of my biggest goals to find a dinosaur fossil! I really hope I do one day, if I did I could die happy!"

"Please don't die- I would be so sad if you died." You squeeze their hand, voice light as you joke with them.

"Aw but I wanna! I wanna be a fossil for future people like me to discover! When I do die I wanna be buried with a bunch of cool stuff! Maybe mess around with my bones a little, just to throw 'em off!" As you finally reach the fossil exhibits, they abandon you to run off and check over every. single. fossil. which while endearing, gave you a lot of running to do in an attempt to catch up.

"Finally! For once a museum that gets everything right! Well, everything as far as we know-" They stand next to one of the larger fossils, not anything you recognized as you take your place next to them, catching your breath.

"Wow, how impressive-" you wheeze, standing up straight and stretching out your legs as you link arms with Venture, trying to stop them from running off on you again.

They laugh, grabbing you by the shoulder and dragging you in the tightest hug you've ever received.

"Thank you, so, so, so much for planning this. And for listening to me talk about rocks so much, and for caring about me- and a million other things! I can't even remember everything you've done for me, but I know its a lot!" They let you go, still holding you by the shoulders, the biggest smile you've ever seen on a person splayed across their face.

"Of course-! I love spending time with you, you're well aware of that, silly." You laugh, grabbing their wrists and taking their hands off your shoulders, holding their hands as you admire the glow of excitement on their face.

"Welllll since you clearly don't mind, can we go to this other museum I found online next week?! I heard they have an area where you get to watch an hour long video on the story of Julius Caesar!"

#venture #overwatch venture #venture x reader #venture overwatch #overwatch x reader #sloane cameron #if i made any mistakes anywhere please tell me- #im a lil stupid #Xornk

[snenbubs]

Imagine: Mammon's manifestation of Greed extending to his s/o in how he expects/demands monetary goods/compliments from others - but now, his s/o is there too, like a pretty little butterfly plucking his mind's webbing. Can't have a bad image on his hands, can he? Mass production is greed in itself, and that is the usual shtick - but what if you had a little nicer things? Things Mammon likes on you - same items, but tremendously high quality shit.

If he requests something, you'll be getting a version of it for yourself. One that compliments Mammon, of course.

New clothing made for him? Matching quality one for his s/o is now an unspoken demand. Interviews at a talk show or meet-n-greet - well, you're answering questions now too (obviously redirecting them all to be praise for Mammon, how great he is, exct.) Gifts brought to an elaborate blue-blood demonic soiree? - what do you *mean* none were brought for his little doll, too!? 110% absolutely the kinda guy to demand your items be brought out perfect and then some. Even goes as far as to demand a take-out meal (not quite fine dining, but not fast-food; the sin of Greed is at least trying) to be re-made all because you asked for the garnish to be removed - *and* you're getting dessert now, as an apology.

But, Mammon wouldn't be caught dead telling you the reason why. Not in public, at least; "It's just image, you little treacle-tart!", don't question why he's pummeling imps and demons alike for missed delivery or promises. He paid for that shit and they dare to bring you something sub-par!? Like he wouldn't check that quality for the $$ he dropped.

You better speak up too, if the quality/taste/item isn't to your liking. Mammon totally gets all butthurt when you don't. Grumbling about 'Wasting money on shitty things', and throws a tantrum, where for a week, he doesn't underhand the revenue from Fizz-merch to 'gift' you things.

'Cuz all of his gifts would probs come with webby-little metaphorical strings attached

(RIP to any s/o who says they don't need the stuff given to them - Mammon wants you dressed and presentable in the most marketable-patent-pending finest, and you wouldn't want him to feel bad for all this work he's put into making you look nice with him, right? Right?!)

I've been side eyeing this ask for ages because its HUGE oh my lord you put your whole being into this and i LOVE IT.

Now, Mammon being the manifestation of greed is really interesting when it comes to having an s/o because there are SO SO many ways his greedy nature would impact the relationship, both negatively and positively. This idea of him ensuring his s/o is bathed with extravagant items, and that others are expected to give to you is amazing because its like, he adores you so much that he's projecting his greed onto you. It's such a common thing in relationships and since greed is one of his core personality traits its really fitting!

So, catch this;

- Mammon has so many outfits for so many different occasions and because of this, so do you. It's not obvious, at first glance a person wouldn't be able tell that you were matching but the themes and colours of the outfits are strikingly similar. BUT, you will always have an outfit to match with his. Everytime he gets something new - which is often, he has something made for you. It's cute!

- He doesn't even need to put in the request anymore, his retailers just know they'll need to be making you something similar.

- All of his business partners know, actually. Bringing a gift to Mammon and feeding his neverending desire for material gain is like a peace offering. However, its heeded that if a similar gift is not brought to you too, then it's no-deal.

- It has to be good too, nothing cheap or casual. It must be luxurious, wealthy, and pristine. You are a nuisance to corporate wallets.

- Seeing you get given gifts of high quality and standard brings Mammon immense joy, close to that of how he feels when recieving items himself. He likes seeing the way you light up as you recieve such gifts, so greatful every single time despite how often it happens.

- Thats why it all has to be perfect, because if he gets even a whiff of disastisfaction on your behalf someone is dying.

- You don't know how he does it, but he always somehow knows whats wrong with the gift, and is always able to redirect the blame onto anyone but you. The gift is cheap, or tacky? These business demons are rich, how dare they try to play it cheap! You just don't like it? Well, you aren't ungreatful, they should have put a little elbow grease into figuring out what you're interested in!

- You don't really get why he's so invested in ensuring you recieve gifts. You've inquired about it many times, most commonly after you've disliked an item you had recieved and he had torn through half the underlings in the room, but he never spoke about it.

- He made obvious, half-assed excuses. I'm quoting you here, anon; "It's just image, you little treacle-tart!" But honestly you never thought to much into it, you guessed it was just his love language. That, and excessive physical touch.

- I think any normal person in this situation would try so, so hard not to become spoilt and demanding, but its honestly very hard to not cave into spoiling desires when the man you are in a relationship with can and absolutely will provide everything you could ever need and or want at the snap of a finger.

- Even if you don't ask for anything, he's still getting you stuff! He keeps a constant eye on the things you're interested in, recent views on shopping websites, items in public you took a particular liking to ect. He probably keeps a list somewhere.

- You don't have much of a say in getting these gifts though. Even if you didn't want them, if you weren't that much of a material person he's drowning you in them anyways. There's definitely a thin layer of guilt there too, because, I mean... he spent so much money on you, because he loves you, and wants you to have the perfect items! Don't you want to be perfect, and pretty, like him? Just let him spoil you, it can't hurt. He only wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

- This goes hand-in-hand with those metaphorical webs and strings attatched to his gifts. He's doing all this work for you, so you better like him. You can't complain when he needs something of you, because he treats you so well.

- Now then, I agree with you in the aspect that before he realised you should, as standard, be getting gifts and rewards from everyone around you, that he fed into your whims and desires in a quantity over quality fashion. You're happy, and it saves him his hard earned money which he absolutely despises parting with.

- But he gets more of a kick out of getting you the expensive stuff, a result of his overwhelming greed. So, this phase of quantity over quality didn't last long.

- He knows what products are the most extravagant and of fine quality and he always gets you that. I would say nobody ends up dying at this point, but that'd be a lie. Mammon is an impatient demon and so if an order is late, or if an item he has bought is skewed or damaged in delivery, blood is being spilt.

- I LOVE THE LAST ONE CUZ I ALSO HC THAT. I think Mammon is a very insecure man, deep down. He puts on this performance persona because he worries about the way he is percieved, so when Fizz just like, up and goes he gets extremely worried you'll do the same and has an extremely possesive few weeks.

- He convinces himself you have some sort of distaste for him, and so to keep you by his side he provides more erratically and richly.

- Though, he is typically quite possesive of you. You are always near, or around him. There's a common joke made among Mammon fans that if they spot you, the Sin is most likely nearby. He always is.

- He even takes you on talk-shows. It isn't normally allowed but he's a Royal so he can do whatever he wants. Of course, the interviews are typically all focused on him and his career; new songs he's writing, upcoming clowns, recent shows. You don't input much, but when you do, its typically to stroke his ever-growing ego and compliment the things you adore about him.

- Dates and dinners can be rather embarassing though, wherever he takes you, because his need for everything given to you perfectly seeps into this aspect of life too.

- I'm just reiterating what you've said now, but, you could be at a take-out place, nowhere too fancy, and he's demanding shit be brought out in silver platters. You made the mistake once of commenting about the garnish, and how you didn't want it on your food, and suddenly he's yelling out that it be remade because how dare they not know you didn't want it!? They told him, quite snarkily might I add, "It's just decorational, you can remove it yourself."

- That take-out place ended that day with one staff member less than they had started.

- He's crazy, but you love him.

This is probably what he looks like asking for shit to be changed for you tbfh.

ANYWAYS YEAH, I HOPE I UNDERSTOOD WHAT YOU MEANT!!! its quite late, but i really wanted to answer this ask before bed so here y'go :] i hope you enjoy, anon!

#helluva boss x reader #mammon hb #mammon hb x reader #hb mammon #mammon helluva boss #hb mammon x reader #husband material #he's just so cute isnt he #the skrungle #i wanna fuck that christmas tree so bad

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Just gonna throw this at you! Hope you laugh! Kinda inspired by Retro Reader.

Valentino: Your Little Feral 'Wife' just killed one of my performers!

Vox: I'm sure Retro had a very good reason for that.

Velvette: It was that one who kept bragging they planned to sleep with you to get to the top. I'm shocked it took them a week to notice the fool.

Vox: They spent the past week thinking I didn't notice them killing my former assistants.

Valentino: You mean the ones you fired for trying to bankrupt you? Why didn't you kill them yourself?

Vox: Retro would pout and its much more enjoyable to see them prove their loyalty. I should buy Retro some flowers, maybe that outfit they were looking at.

Velvette: Hon I think the thing they would want most is you taking a day off.

Enjoy the weird thoughts from my brain after reading your amazing stuff! If you wanna do something with this be my guest!

I’m sorry, I just imagine Retro popping up out of nowhere and being like “I would like that!”

And Valentino is just. Terrified screaming.

Anyway.

Vox is thinks that actually a good point, so he leaves work early and shows up at the house without warning. Retro has a mild heart attack because they weren’t expecting him and the house might not be clean enough. But Vox brought flowers and the outfit they liked, so it works out nicely. Vox pretends not to notice the drops of blood on the kitchen counter.

Retro is also in a much better mood than usual with all the killing. They really like being uninterrupted in their work, able to take care of it as they see fit. I imagine it’s part of the reason Vox fired his assistants instead of killing them, too. It lets Retro blow off some steam.

I also think that Retro would become progressively protective of Valentino and Velvette as well. Not to the same extent as Vox, of course, but they wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who’s giving them a hard time.

As we all know, Valentino is the problem in most relationships, so Retro wouldn’t need to protect him much. If anything, I think they’d serve as a good way for Val to vent some frustration. They get together on the back porch, Retro knitting a sweater or blanket or something while Valentino decorates a new gun he got. Retro has tea or something and Val is trying not to smoke (and failing) because he knows Retro doesn’t particularly like it.

He also knows Retro won’t deal with any of his violent bullshit like the other Vs do. We see Vox let him break things, but Retro? They won’t allow it. They think letting of steam is healthy, though, so they’ll arrange for target practice while Val is there. They also start doing research on guns (they weren’t interested before since they are very loud weapons) first Val so they can recommend some new ones, how to decorate them, etc. Valentino is an artist and I feel like Retro would love indulging that side of him. If they become genuine friends (or partners, if they end up in a poly relationship with Vox) I imagine this would be a big part of it.

He’d complain about some performers he’s had trouble with, which ones are good, which ones aren’t. Retro would learn a bit about Angel Dust (but not much, considering Val knows better than to disclose how he treats his employees to someone like Retro). Retro would keep this information in mind for future killings, giving the better performers more leniency and keeping a watchful eye on all of them in general. Vox would invite them to a club or studio before this, and they’d usually reject the request since it’s not their thing (also not very housewife-type thing to do, and because a club meant flirting and we all know how they deal with that). After getting close with Val, though? They’d be more up for it.

Retro would end up refining their killing, having actual rules for what’s acceptable and what’s not when it comes to people talking to or making a move on Vox. They decide that if it’s someone’s job, like the performers, they get a pass. Random club goer? Thin ice, but they’ll have some patience. Both Vox and Retro make it a point to remind people that Vox isn’t interested in anyone else, so if someone knows that and keeps making a move? Well, Retro can’t kill the, right then and there, but they’ll go on the list of people to kill. I also imagine the list has different sections that people get sorted into depending on their threat level, both in terms of power and how likely they are to cause problems in their relationship with Vox.

Anyway, I’ve been neglecting the Velvette and Retro interactions so here we go!

I think it’d be a bit of a rough start between them, probably due to the fact that Vel already knows about Retros murders, but they’d get along pretty well. When Valentino described them to Vel, she got the impression they’d be more crazed and all over the place, an absolute mess. So imagine her surprise when she met Retro, someone who’s so polite and calm and well mannered. She’d understand immediately. Instant besties, especially with Retros fashion sense.

Now, Retro and Val have an odd sort of relationship but Vel and Retro have something more genuine and wholesome, I think. Vel would go to Retro for some advice, ask about ideas, and the like. She appreciates their unique tastes and preferences, as well as the out of the box ideas they can come up with. If Velvette is ever afraid something she’s making may not be functional as an outfit? She gives it to Retro, asks their opinion.

I also imagine Retro would have a good understanding of what fabrics feel nice together and which ones don’t, something Velvette may struggle with. She doesn’t have a problem with fabric textures, so she doesn’t realize how it may impact the buyers opinion on the outfit. Retro offers that new perspective, too, since I imagine they’re quite picky on that sort of thing. They care a lot about fabric texture, flow, and feel (something I can personally relate to) not only because it impacts its mobility and functionality, how hard it is to clean after killing, but also general comfort. Retro would be more than happy to help with whatever Velvette needs, but modeling is strictly off the table. They’ll do private photo shoots for fun, sure, but Retro is determined to keep up the housewife routine.

Valentinos visits probably tend to be more infrequent and out of the blue, but Velvette has a tight schedule and specific dates with Retro, something they greatly appreciate. The gossip they discuss? Top tier. Val and Retro usually discuss dancing skills, choreography, people’s tastes in partners and their horrible life decisions, which is fun but not exciting. Velvette always has some dramatic tea to spill and I imagine she’s great at explaining it in an immersive way that captures Retros attention. Retro would probably be able to offer up good theories and thoughts on how the situation would go, too. I think they’d really enjoy Velvette’s company and listening to her talk.

I also think Velvette would be mostly supportive (at the very least, completely okay) with Retros habits. She thinks their dedication is adorable. I think they talking about Vox’s work habits, too. Probably complain that he needs to take a break. Velvette offers valuable insight into what the workplace is like, so Retro has a better idea of the dynamics Vox holds with people, his habits, what he likes and what he doesn’t. They use this information to make him extra comfortable and relaxed after an especially long or tiring day of work. I don’t think Vox would really notice at first.

Retro berates Vox about his bad habits, how he needs to take care of himself, and I think he’ll start to listen. He’ll take a few more days off than usual, come home with flowers, and maybe go out for a nice dinner.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #writing #my writing #x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #thanks anon!

[prrtnrr]

YAY TOOK EM LONG ENOUgh

Also oooh we getting any p5 ships? PEGORYU MAYBE

((im too excited to keep this to myself lol, i love the smt persona series if anyone was curious, but i wanna explore yosuke meeting all these persona users who came before his group and after his group. i think thats neat :) i been trying to think of a way to have them all meet without it seeming like im just throwing characters together, least i hope it comes off that way, im not super confident in my writing but goddamn if im not having a great time doing this. idk if anyone was as invested in the p5 flower child au as i was, but i was suuuper into it, tatsujun parenting means the world to me. cant wait to draw dilf tatsuya for p5 ships, i might! theres a couple p5 ones i think are cute like makoto/haru or pegoryu bc i have taste- now more insane ramblings under the cut bc i cant shut up

i do wanna say some ships i wont be doing so yall can see inside my twisted mind- * i dont ship futaba with anyone, shes so baby sister coded to me, i cant it feels illegal * im not a big fan of akechi lol and with the way im loosely following the plots of the persona games, akechis not gonna show up unless he was mentioned/flashback, bc... yk... he kinda... well thats spoilers but ykyk. also theres only room for one detective prince in my heart (naoto)

to round it off some fun plot points i wanna explore (feel free to add any thru asks too i think its fun to have this be collaborative) * Souji and Akira get velvet room time together, souji gets to chill in a nice limo, akiras always in jail, its goofy * ryuji, futaba, and ann bumping into rise and naoto walking around the central shopping district, ryuji goes nuts bc thats rissette, ann goes nuts bc thats rissette and the original detective prince, futaba makes a joke that theyre dating bc naoto and rise are walking closely and have matching necklaces, kanji shows up, kanji also has a matching necklace. ryuji falls to his knees and yells YOU CAN DO THAT????????? * i have a cute idea for Rise and Ann talking about their inspirations for how they both got into their lines of work, i think they have a lot of overlap * Haru and Yukiko talking about having to take over their family businesses, the stress of it, being grateful for having the opportunity but also resenting said opportunity * Kanji, Ryuji, and Chie training together, talking about why they train, how they become stronger to be able to protect ppl they care about (kanji with biker gangs for his mom) (chie fighting off bullys who pick on kids, and her exp with Takeshi from her slink) (Ryuji training to continue to protect the track team hes no longer part of) * Futaba and Yosuke talking about video games, yosuke becoming overwhelmed by just how much futaba knows about video games, new baby sister unlocked * ryuji and teddie almost get arrested, they hype each other up too much, dangerous combo * Makoto and Naoto have a law and order moment * Nanako and Futaba talking about dads :) an opportunity for Futaba to feel like someones elder while Nanako makes Futaba feel like shes the younger one. why is nanako so responsible. * hey yall ever remember that ken amada p3 is the same age as the p5 cast, they were all born in 1998, isnt that-))

#phooey #((this is interesting only to me but i do be saying words))

[milawritesstuff]

We took an L today bestie :( can you do a pedri x reader where hes feeling down from his injury comeback because he feel like he hasn’t given his all. Kinda like how she’s noticed he’s been down & she asks his brother & they finally realize it after the Rayo game since he opened up & talked to her about it so she comforts in & just makes him feel less disappointed in himself. Just like fluff & like a hug in words if that makes sense lol thank u 🫶🏼

A/N: That lost hurt so much and IDK why.

But writing this was therapy so here you go lol.

......

The sound of the front door swinging open and Pedri throwing his backpack on the floor of the quiet home startled you. You smiled as you made your way to greet him. He had been gone for an away game in Madrid.

-Amor.- You said as you approached him.

-I played like shit.- He said rubbing his eyes, for the first time since the game being able to let it out. You noticed the sides of his hand were now red, surely from hitting the steering wheel of his car as he drove home after arriving from the airport. He clearly looked upset.

-Come on Pedri, it wasn’t that bad.-

-Did you see when I lost that ball? They almost scored.- Your mind went to the game. The way you had screamed at Pedri through the TV when you saw the horrible decision he had made. You wouldn’t dare tell him now

-But they didn’t.-

Pedri left you standing there as he walked towards the bedroom saying profanities in between his breathe. You knew better than to take it personal, after all it had been a pretty horrible game. You heard your phone ding and see a message from Fernando, Pedri’s brother, come in.

-Esta cabreado.- He is pissed off.

-Thanks for the heads up, he already came in here throwing stuff and yelling.- You replied sarcastically.

-He called me on his way home. He says he disappointed everyone.-

The sound of the television coming from the bedroom you shared with Pedri called your attention as you placed your phone down. You walked slowly over and found him sitting on the edge of the bed starting to rewatch the match against Rayo. You stood at the door and shook your head.

-We are not going to do this right now.- You took a few steps closer to him and took the remote from his hand, turning off the television.

-What the fuck are you doing?- He responded. You tried your best not to let his words get to you.

-You can say whatever you want but I am not going to let you sit here and eat at yourself replaying the match. It’s over, it’s done. I’m sure tomorrow Xavi will talk to you about what you can do better. But that’s enough for now.-

-It’s like they were all looking forward to seeing me play again and then I play like shit.- He went on.

-Come on Pedri, they all know you’re human. You can’t be our savior.-

-But that’s what they expected, they wanted me back so we could play again and instead what am  I doing out there? Losing balls, not passing enough.-

-Don’t say that Pedro. What about the passes you did make that your teammates didn’t end up scoring? It���s not just you, everyone needs to do better next time and you need to stop thinking about it for tonight.-

He stood up and gave you a side eye as he directed himself to the restroom slamming the door behind him. You rolled your eyes and threw yourself on the bed. You should have seen this coming. Being with Pedri was for the most part nice. But he was too in love with this game that sometimes you ended up hating because of what it did to him. He felt like he had won the lottery when he got signed for Barça and now felt like he owed his all to the club and its fans. This type of mentality wasn’t good for him when the team lost, specially when he knew that he hadn’t done a well enough job. 

You laid there with your eyes closed as you heard him slam something in there and then the water faucet begin to run. Minutes later the door to the restroom opened.

-Lo siento.- I’m sorry. He said. You opened your eyes and looked over at him. Still sadness in his eyes but he looked at you with a little pout which truly melted your heart.

-Are you feeling better now?-

He shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk towards the bed, taking off the beige Barça hoodie that made his beautiful brown eyes shine. -I don’t know about better, but I know I shouldn’t take it out on you.-

He sat on the edge of the bed as he took off his shoes. You moved over to be behind him as you wrapped your arms around his body and rested your head on his right shoulder. -You know I don’t deserve you, right?- He whispered as he smiled at you, taking in the warmth of your hug and realizing that’s exactly what he had needed since the end of the game.

-You know we don’t deserve you, right Pedrito?- You asked mentioning the club and its fans.

-Come on, let me help you relax.- You said as you brushed your fingers on his jaw and he tilted his head back. Your lips making a quick connection to his neck. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your hands went to move over his chest and you felt as his body trembled at your touch.

-This is very relaxing.- He managed to whisper as you smiled. You let go of him and motioned for him to get into bed with you. He finished taking off his shirt and pants and got under the covers with you.

You immediately grabbed his jaw and began to kiss him, allowing for his gentle tongue to dip inside and begin to dance with yours. His hands around your body and eventually cupping your ass. It was unbelievable how in love you were with him, even being away for one day had been too long and you yearned for his touch.

You pulled away after a few kisses and stared at him. You smiled. -You know I would love you even if you scored 100 self goals on us, right?- He stared at you for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes and began to laugh. -I’m not that bad.-

-I’m just saying.- You said smiling right before he leaned in and began to tickle you. You laughed and eventually began to yell at him to stop because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He laughed at how dramatic you were and stopped tickling you as he hovered over you. He smiled and leaned down to place a small kiss on your lips.

-Te amo.-

The two of you ended the night in each other’s arms as you watched a series until falling asleep.

TAG LIST: @cinderellawithashoe @httpswiftie @simpingmyassoff@bubblebeep69 @fictional-l0v3r @httpspedri26 @0alanasworld0@l0verl4ne @gaviypedrisbride @footballerficsposts @fashphotolife@beaschampagneproblems @jvsgnjrtpdar5stkd-tv-m @ikkehehe @jjishotasf @quemirasboboandapaya @maricciardo @gaviswh0re@pedriwifefrfr @dustell @elijahslover @formula1mount

#pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri fluff #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri fanfic #pedri blurb #pedri imagines #pedri gonzalez

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 12! (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: Spanking. (If spanking is not your thing, I have marked those parts with ~ at the start and end of them so you can read past them.) Dom!Elvis and dom/sub dynamics. Sex. ANGST. Jealousy. 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: 10,660

A/N: We're back, y'all and this part is a MONSTER so you're gonna have to carve out some time (it's what you deserve)! It took on a life of its own, honestly. I really wanted to explore the darker sides of both our Reader and Elvis and their choices. It is important to me in this piece to show that Elvis was a very complex human with very real faults, which can throw some people for a loop if they idealize him or don't know much about him, so be warned.

With that said, the convo between him and Anita in 1961 is real. I transcribed his parts as best I could with the quality of the recording. Hopefully, I did his mood justice in the writing (in terms of how Reader is interpreting it), but if you do choose to listen, I recommend headphones and patience. It's a long one and not a great recording. And once again, depending on your point of view, it shows a not-so-flattering side of EP, so proceed with caution.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your love, patience, and distractions as I've been ill! This community has been so wonderful and it's been amazing getting to know you all better and to be able to share our love of EP in all the ways! 💖

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. I will say I'm a bit self-conscious about this part for a variety of reasons, mainly covid-brain, so be gentle! I'm sorry in advance if it's not up to par.

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.

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, though it's not all updated yet!)

Los Angeles, 1961

Walking down the hallway, you cannot help but be drawn to the perturbed sound of Elvis’ unique cadence from beyond the door of the den. It is cracked open just enough for the sound to come through, which must have been a mistake by whoever left last, probably one of the guys. You had seen Red come from this direction not that long ago.

You’d come out to LA at Elvis’ behest to join them all for a visit while he was filming his latest movie. You were happy to see Jack after so much time apart, and you’d instantly gotten swept back up into the Elvis lifestyle while being here, though it was moderately toned down considering his filming schedule. It was a nice change from what was becoming a bit of a lonely existence at Graceland. It wasn’t that you were alone, per say, it was just that the other wives were having and taking care of their little ones, which was a constant reminder of a life you couldn’t have. You loved spending time them and with the children—they just weren’t your own.

You certainly don’t mean to snoop, you’d only been making your way through the California villa to the bedroom to grab something out of your bag, but your curiosity wins out. You stop just shy of the door, head bowed, ear to the crack, wondering who has Elvis in such a state. Of course, you can only hear one side of the conversation, but you try to piece together as best you can what might be going on. You know you shouldn’t, but you do anyway.

Elvis responds to the person he’s talking to in an exasperated tone, “You know why—you know why I don’t call you anymore? This very reason, right here. This very reason right here…I-I-I-can’t talk to you, hon. You mess with my damn head, man. I-I-can’t count on a decent conversation with ya. Ya start throwin’ up all kinds of shit to me. Look, if I called you e-e-every damn night, you’d start bitchin about something different. You’re just a fuckin’ nag, that’s all, you’re just a nagger that’s all.”

Your eyes widen at that, at how mean he’s getting with whichever one of his women he’s talking to. You have seen his temper firsthand over the years, but not directed at you and you’ve never heard him talk to a woman this way. After knowing him all this time, this side of him shocks you a bit, and you stay rooted to the spot.

“Well, that’s the way I feel about it, a-a-and y-y-y-you don’t have to be that way either. Not to the extent that you are, you don’t have to be that bad,” he says vehemently. “I just know you’re gonna start throwin’ something up to me a-and I ain’t got time to hear it. You turn me the fuck up, you know that?”

And he certainly is turned up, you think. His annoyance and frustration are coming through loud and clear on this end, punctuated by his stutter. The woman must be talking because he pauses before continuing.

“Yes, all the time. I-I-I can’t stand it, I-I can’t stand it, Anita, I swear I can’t stand it. I call you and do right, my ass,” he says, annoyed. “I do, do right! My ass. If I called you e-every night, you’d start that shit.” Elvis starts mocking her in a whining, high pitched voice, “‘Who’d you see today? You g-got a girlfriend, I’m surprised at you, blah blah,’ that bullSHIT!” He spits it out at her, angrily. “Naw, it ain’t no lie. Naw, you bring it up every time I talk to you.”

Your heart races a bit just hearing the confrontation and at the thrill that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping in the first place. Of course, it’s Anita, you think. He’s been seeing her the longest of any of his girlfriends, even through Germany. You are friendly with her, but not very close. Although she is always nice to you, she has an air about her that rubs you the wrong way. Not that you’d ever show it, but she just seems a bit self-important to you, what with her beauty queen titles and flitting up to New York or out to Hollywood for her singing or acting. She is a little too pretty, a little too nice, and sometimes it just feels underhanded.

Or maybe you’re just jealous, a niggling voice in the back of your mind says.

You scoff at that. Jealous of what? Sure, it seemed like she had a glamorous life, what with all the things she did, and how beautiful she is, and being the girlfriend of THE Elvis Presley, but you know better than that. And right now it sure doesn’t seem like you have much to be jealous of, considering the way he’s talking to her. She’s been around four years, and there is still no true commitment from him. At least you have a husband who loves you and you are a permanent fixture in Elvis’ inner circle, giving you a leg up in this situation, you think a little haughtily.

Good god, what is wrong with me? Why am I being so petty?

You don’t have an answer to that.

Obviously, Anita is not happy, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Anita’s not dumb, even though she can play that part if needs be. She knows he’s seeing other women, and just because you’re not her biggest fan doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated poorly, by him or anyone else.

The thing is, you realize suddenly, even though he is likely in the wrong, you are still going to take his side in the end because he’s your friend. And that thought surprises you a little bit. But at the same time, there is anger starting to simmer in your chest at his poor behavior, at the way he keeps some of the women in his life hanging, waiting with bated breath to see if they will be the one to win his undying and singular attention.

You, of course, know better. Elvis is needy and fickle and loves being adored by as many women as possible. If there is one thing he’s addicted to, it’s girls. But he would no sooner give up his freedom to love as many of them as possible than he would to give up his career. Not to say that he doesn’t genuinely care for some of them; in fact, he is overly loving and demonstrative in some ways. It’s just that the standards for his love seem different than anyone else’s, and he gets away with things he might not otherwise because of who he is. But in your experience, the girls all figure it out eventually, and it seems like Anita is finally getting there.

It sounds like she is giving Elvis the business about it, which he doesn’t like one little bit.

“Why can’t you be sweet instead of bitchin’ like an old naggin’ ass wife, huh?” you hear him say, a little viciously, your eyes going wide. “I can’t stand that, I can’t stand it. Baby, you’ve got me crazy, you know that? You get worse a-all the damn time, a-and th-th-that’s why I don’t talk to you on the phone.”

You really, really should leave and get your nose out of his business, but it’s like you’re incapable of getting your feet to move. You’re mad at him for speaking this way to her, even though she likely IS nagging, you know it’s for good reason. She is right. He wants to have his cake and eat it, too, and he does not like being called out on it.

You hear him backtracking now, almost wearily telling her how much he loves her, over and over. The man doth protest too much. And the way his stutter pops up now, it sounds more like a child covering a fib than agitation. But you hate to assume.

“I told ya that I’m in love with ya. I-I-I-I-I-if I—if I—if I didn’t love you, I tell ya, I wouldn’t waste my time with you. I don’t have to,” he rebounds bluntly, harshly, then recovers quickly, “Well, I-I look forward to being with you, and I-I think about you a lot. But because I don’t call you three or four times a damn week, you say to me ‘Why don’t you…?’” His nastiness gets the better of him again, as he starts to mock her, but then he stops, his frustration evident. “Aw, HELL. I tell ya how I felt aboutcha, you oughta know how I feel. I mean, three long years, w-we’ve been battling this back and forth this same thing. You know I love you, darlin’.”

It all sounds rather unconvincing to you, as he seems to bounce so quickly from one emotion to the other. Maybe he believes it, you think, but you don’t think she’s buying it, not by the way he continues to reassure her, nearly pleading in some moments, and calling her pet names before that indignant tone returns to his voice. Even from out here, you can feel just how hard he’s trying to be patient, trying to placate her, with the many declarations of his love.

Silence falls for a moment, and you wonder what she must be saying to him, whether she’s falling for this or if she’s just as disbelieving as you are. You think she might be coming around based on how his voice changes yet again, how he’s both gentle and matter of fact, then his tone becomes almost boyish and sad.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the hall towards you. In a complete panic, you nearly jump out of your skin before looking around frantically for an escape. Desperate, you fling yourself into the room across the hall, but in your excitement, the door slams behind you.

Your hand pops to cover your mouth, as if this action alone will have kept anyone from hearing the door.

There is silence for a moment before you hear Elvis shouting, muffled, “Cliff? Cliff!”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you chastise yourself for being so damn stupid as to be eavesdropping on Elvis of all people, then you say a silent prayer that no one finds you as you hear more footsteps and another door slam. The footsteps head away, and with shaking breaths, you slowly open the door to find the hallway empty once more.

You tell yourself you are gonna skedaddle right out of there and go on with your business, but then you hear Elvis lay into her yet again:

“I-I-I love you very much a-and q-quit-quit-quit bitching and nagging me so much. I get so mad, I could break your neck.” That takes you aback, the way he just throws the phrase at her before going back to imitating her meanly, “’I can’t help it, I can’t help it! I can’t help it!’” W--w-w-w-what are you gonna do when I’m nuts and in an asylum?” Then he mumbles something you can’t understand but you hear him chuckle before he sighs big and loudly.

He's telling her he loves her but in a way that makes it obvious that he wants off the phone. She’s not having it based on the silence from his end.

Then he’s back to talking real nice and low to her, seemingly contrite and sorry, his stutter emphasizing it all. The stutter gives him away, you think, though you aren’t sure if it’s more agitation at her or that he’s feeling guilty. Perhaps it’s both.

“Well, m-maybe I’m not doing my part right now, but I mean give me a chance, you know. Just give me a chance. Don’t-don’t-don’t worry, j-j-just give me a chance, I-I, it’ll all come out in the long run. Okay? Take my word for it, hon, I wouldn’t lie to you. I love you, Anita.” A pause and then he giggles, “I’ll enjoy it. I love you very much darlin’. I do, Anita, I do…w-w-w-why would I lie to you, baby? I-i-if i-i-i if I’m l-l-l-lying…” he says, his stutter so bad now it’s hard to understand anything he’s saying.

You internally scoff at this. He’s been lying to her for years. But part of you wonders if he truly believes it will all turn out for them in the future. He is something of an idealist, after all. Maybe he really does fear losing her. Maybe that stutter is betraying his nerves rather than his guilt.

You aren’t sure how you feel about the prospect of him actually settling down, especially with Anita. For one, you don’t think it’s in his nature, but two, something about him doing it turns your stomach. You can’t pinpoint why, exactly, but the idea of him being married with little ones running about Graceland makes you want to scream.

You quickly push that thought out of your head, convincing yourself that your broiling frustration at him has more to do with his treatment of Anita than anything else. If he loves her and needs her so much, maybe he should just tell her the truth. You continue to listen in as he talks baby talk to her and emphasizes just how much he really will call her more, and then you hear him yawn.

“Hell, I’m tired. Oh, yeah. You do? You do? Well don’t sound so damn serious. How much you love me? How much you love me? Maybe? Baby? I love you. I love you. I wish, I wish, I wish I was with you,” he says, weary and tired of the conversation. There are long moments of silence, and you wonder what she is saying or if she’s hung up on him.

“I gotta go. There ain’t no party, I just gotta go. I’ll talk to ya later. I will. Don’t throw up more ideas…” He starts that terrible imitating of her again, “’I can’t! I can’t help that!’ I could slap your face right off.” He laughs through the rest now, and you know him well enough to know he’s being an asshole, provoking her. You can practically hear her shouting through the receiver, she’s yelling so loud.

“I think you’ve lost your damn mind. Yeah, ya have,” he says gently, quiet but cutting. Then he continues to chuckle, seemingly finding her agitation amusing. “Well…we’ll see. I’ll talk to ya later. Okay? Okay? Take care honey, be patient. Alright. Take it easy. Bye.” You hear the receiver click as he finally hangs up the phone.

You’re fuming now, a bit off the rails considering none of this has anything to do with you, and you know it. The gall of him to behave that way when he knows he’s in the wrong, that he is lying to her. For god’s sake, he is having a party right now and there are girls here that you know were invited by him for a particular purpose, and he’s over here telling Anita how tired he is and how crazy she is when she is right all along.

The now-small logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave and to get your nose out of his business before you do something stupid, but instead you listen to Elvis as he lets out a huge sigh that ends in a frustrated growl.

“Who in the hell is out there lurking in the hallway?” you hear him shout out of nowhere.

Shit.

Your heart pounds, knowing you are caught, and you are mad enough that you refuse to run away. You take a deep breath instead, pushing the door open slowly.

Elvis looks up through his dark lashes from behind the huge mahogany desk, his hands steepled and his jaw set. Surprise flashes over his features when he lays eyes on you, his left eyebrow shooting up, but his eyes quickly return to a steely blue, hardening.

“How much did you hear?” There’s no preamble, no beating around the bush, no charming quip.

You consider lying for a moment. “Enough,” you finally say, knowing lying would be futile—he knows you well enough to see through your deceit. You are angry enough at him for it to show on your face.

“Hmmm. Mmm hmm,” he tuts, seemingly disappointed in you, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, listening to my private conversation?” It comes out frighteningly low and biting.

You open your mouth to speak, but before anything gets out, he’s yelling, “What is it with the goddamn women in my life sticking their noses where they don’t belong?!” You cannot help but flinch at his outburst, even as angry as you are.

Elvis gets up so fast and so violently the rolling chair he’s sitting in flies backwards, hitting the bookshelf behind him. Rounding the desk, he advances on you, and you stumble, countering by stepping back. With his dark hair and flashing eyes, his features both soft and severe all at once, his natural beauty is intimidating.

Already angered by his conversation with Anita, he is teetering right on the edge of fury, on that blinding temper of his. Which is why you have no idea what comes over you next.

“So, how’s Anita?” you ask sardonically. A small part of you is hoping that your sarcasm will deescalate the situation. It does not. More likely, for whatever reason, you have this urge to push him right over the edge. He’s never turned his temper on you before, and his temper can be blindingly terrible, yet still you persist.

“Don’t be insolent. It doesn’t become you, y/n,” he seethes, his soulful eyes now a churning, hard, steely blue, like the northern Atlantic during a storm.

You continue anyway, “You should just tell her, E. She obviously suspects what you’re doing, wouldn’t it just be easier—"

“I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ opinion!” he shouts at you. Your heart begins to pound in your ears, along with the ringing of his voice, but you are stubborn as hell and pissed off, too, so despite all the warning bells, you keep going.

“You’re right, you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway as your friend and as a woman who knows—and more so because no one else will dare to call you on it—” you shoot at him, trembling with anger, “Being cheated on and then being lied to and made to feel crazy about it when you know something is wrong is awful. That’s why she’s nagging you all the time. You are making her feel crazy. You should either tell her or leave her, Elvis, but this isn’t right.” You let out a breath, your body hot with anger and you are surprised at your boldness.

“Aw, hell, y/n, you gonna be bitchin’ and naggin’ now, too, huh?” he barks, his eyes flashing.

More words, ones you didn’t expect to speak, come rolling off your tongue. “Why are you hanging on to her if you are just gonna constantly screw around behind her back? How can you really love her and do that to her? You have to know after all this time that she wants you to marry her, but I think we both know that’s not going to happen, is it? What exactly is the point of all this, then, Elvis?”

You expect him to scream at you again and you brace for it. But instead, he steps closer, cornering you. Anger is rolling off him in waves but now it’s tempered by something else, too. Something heavy and thick that starts to suck the air from the room as his deep eyes lock onto yours, unwavering.

“Why y/n, you sound almost jealous.” It comes out smooth, too smooth, with a dark chuckle as he takes one more bold step into you. Your back hits the wall, breath catching at the insinuation.

“W-what? No,” you eek out defensively, in a voice far too high for your liking. You feel your cheeks flush. You know objectively what he’s trying to do, distract and deflect blame for his situation off him and onto you. It’s manipulative but effective because you are flustered beyond repair now.

And maybe because there’s a little truth to it, that small voice from earlier adds. Though you have no idea how Elvis may have pulled that deep thought, one that you barely acknowledged yourself, from the deep recesses of your brain.

Faltering under the pressure of his gaze and the closeness of his lean body practically pressing up against yours, you try to skirt around him.

He slams his hand onto the wall next to your head and you wince as his arm blocks you in. You’re breathing hard now, feeling something between shock and fear and exhilaration as his beautiful face comes too close to yours, forcing you to turn back to him.

Elvis will not be ignored.

“I’m not sure I believe you, baby,” he purrs. “Why else would you be snooping into my private romantic business?” His nose almost grazes your face, tantalizing, the scent of his Old Spice filling your nostrils, consuming you. You realize you’ve never been this close to him, not like this.

Maybe there’s a good reason for that.

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you roll your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you respond, glaring at him. It sounds almost convincing.

Elvis chuckles meanly, not believing you, his lip curling into a grin, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s a panther stalking his prey, and you have come crashing into the jungle, demanding his attention. 

His wrath is laced with something fervently sexual, and anything sexual coming from Elvis is ten times what it might be from another man. It’s intoxicating in the worst way possible, clouding your thoughts, distracting you from your frustration at his behavior. It’s as though, over time, he’s learned to wield his charismatic essence and his sexual energy into a weapon, one which he is now turning on you.

You realize you are in way over your head, but you’ve left yourself no room to backpedal out of this.

Elvis’ icy eyes roam over your face. For a moment you think he might close the gap between you two and press those pillowy lips to yours. For a moment you allow yourself to wonder if they feel as soft as they look, if they taste as sweet as you imagine.

What would he do if it were you that closed the gap? Would he be shocked out of his rage and pull away? Or would he kiss you back? Would you want him to?

Guilt washes over you, a cold shock, in response to these thoughts. What in the hell is wrong with me today?

But right now, cornered as you are, you feel like you might do almost anything to get out of this intense limbo he has you trapped in. You decide to call him out and see what happens.

“Oh, please, Elvis. Does this bull work on all the girls?” you hum almost nonchalantly, even though your heart is galloping, but it has the desired effect. He bites his tongue and shakes his head, leaning back from you. “What, you think you can just try and beguile me, of all people, and I’ll forget about what a jerk you’re being?”

“That’s not—,” he begins, through gritted teeth.

“Oh, shut it,” you interrupt, even more mad now after calling him out on his bad behavior for the second time. “I have half a mind to call Anita up myself after the stunt you just pulled!”

“The hell you will!” Elvis growls, eyes heated, yanking you by the arm towards the desk. “I’ll teach you what happens when you stick your nose where it don’t belong.”

~

You yelp in surprise as he pulls you over. It all happens so fast; you barely resist because your brain doesn’t comprehend what’s happening until he’s planted himself on top of the desk and bends you over his knee.

“Elvis, what are you…?” you yell. He cannot be serious, there is no way he will—

The first smack hits your backside hard. You choke in shock, not just at the sting but at his audacity. You are frozen, speechless, until you realize he’s aiming to do it again. You try to wriggle off his leg, flailing your arms for purchase, but he is much stronger than you. His arm clamps down on your back, holding you fast.

“Elvis!” you shriek at him, “Don’t you even think about—!” The second smack lands harder than the first, on the other cheek, and you squeal, kicking your legs.

“You gonna stay outta my business, y/n?” he asks.

“Goddamnit, Elvis!” you hiss, trying to glare back at him, but he holds you fast.  

“Takin’ that as a ‘no’,” he muses, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he brings down his hand again. You yelp again, then grit your teeth. He’s not going easy on you, though you are absolutely sure he’s not anywhere at full strength, either. He’s not truly trying to hurt you. While your dress is softening some of the blow, it still smarts, sending your eyes watering.

You are livid, but much to your shock, you are also finding yourself exhilarated, stimulated. Your heart races and you have no idea what’s gotten into you. It’s like everything you’ve done in the last thirty minutes—poking your nose in where it didn’t belong, becoming so angry at him, pushing all of his buttons on purpose—was some strange way to get here. Not that you knew, not at all, that this would be your punishment, but it was almost as if you were crying out for his attentions all along.

This realization stuns you into stillness, and you barely register him talking to you again.

“I can do this all day, y/n, until you tell me what I need to hear,” he says in a sing-song voice. He’s enjoying it, his anger still there, but no longer at the forefront of his intent. No, now he is entirely focused on getting you to cry uncle.

You are stubborn and silent, though still reeling with confusion from your realizations of what got you here, slung over Elvis Presley’s knee, and that you, too, might be enjoying this, but in all the wrong ways. When his hand slaps your ass this time, you bite back the sound that wants to come forth, because it is no longer one of shock. Never in a thousand years do want to admit that you are relishing the feel of his hand on you like this, that the sting is having the opposite effect of what he wants or what either of you expects. It is wrong in so many ways.

Your lack of response must confuse him because you feel him hesitate in the slightest. You are unsure what comes over you, other than the impulse that you don’t actually want him to stop, which means he definitely should stop, but you can’t let him know why and instead it all comes out jumbled. The intended, “Elvis, please don’t!—Stop!” somehow (perhaps a little less than subconsciously) turns into a breathless, pleading for him to continue, “Elvis, please…don’t…stop.”

And though you feel his leg tense under you slightly, the only outward indication that he takes it any other way, he indeed does not stop. You squirm at the last second, realizing your mistake. And when his hand lands this time, fingers splayed wide, he hits decidedly lower and more centered than before. There is no way to know if it is purposeful or accidental, not that it matters in this moment because you cannot help the way your fingers dig into his thigh and the embarrassing moan that escapes your lips when he slaps your center along with your ass.

There is no denying what that sound meant. There’s no way to play it off or pretend it didn’t happen. You are fully aroused and completely mortified.

And Elvis knows it. You know he does by the way he stills, how his other hand clenches your dress at your waist, how you can feel his chest heaving along with your own in the thick, heavy silence that comes after.

For a moment, you wonder if he will push, if he’ll try to continue under the guise of this insane game, and a shameful part of you almost wants him to, wants to see how far you’ll both go, but that thought is fleeting.

~

He releases you, and you scurry off his lap as though he is on fire. And he might as well be with that tell-tale twinkle burning in his crystalline eyes, which are no longer stormy with anger but brimming with amusement and surprise and curiosity and heat. Then, as if he can’t help it, those pink lips pull up into a wide, cheeky smile, his tongue peeking out between his teeth and the tip touches his top lip. The look is somewhere between bashful and positively sinful.

You smooth your dress frantically with your hands, your face burning. Flustered beyond repair, you swipe at your watering eyes, feeling the heat scorch through your body. You are so utterly embarrassed that you could cry. Neither of you speaks at first (what in god’s name can you say??), but Elvis starts to giggle—giggle—that hiccupping little laugh of his that you know will spiral into a fit if he really gets going.

“Don’t you…don’t you dare laugh at me, Elvis Presley!” you sputter and stamp like a child, pointing at him, but his face is going red now and he’s starting to lose it.

“I’m-I’m n-n-not! I just c-can’t…” he stutters before he erupts into full blown belly laughs.

“Oh, my god,” you cry, bringing your hands to your face. You are both livid at him and mortified at yourself, but the situation is completely ridiculous and his laughter becomes contagious. “I swear to god, this isn’t funny!” you wail, fighting back your own laughter.

This just sends him into fresh peal of laughing, and he doubles over.

You finally break down, laughing, too. “Shut up!” you yell, but all the sting is out of it with your own giggles. “This is all your fault!”

“MY fault?!” he cries, trying to catch his breath, tears leaking from his eyes.

You don’t have an answer to that. You know it’s very much on both of you, especially you.

Finally, the laughter starts to die down and you both are wiping at your eyes and catching your breath. Silence starts to hang heavy again, but you break it with ferocity.

“Let’s just pretend that none of this ever happened, okay? I’ll forget everything I heard, and you’ll forget…the rest of it, and we’ll never, ever speak of this again,” you say seriously, with conviction. “Deal?”

As absurd as the whole situation is, you both know there are very real consequences, for both of you, if any of what’s transpired leaves this room. The problem is you know he can be terrible at keeping secrets; however, there is no way for him to tell yours without exposing himself. You can see him work through this now that he is calmed down, his blue eyes regarding you carefully.

You force yourself to remain steady under his intense gaze, trying your best to ignore the way your body wants to involuntarily respond to him all the sudden. You need him to know how serious you are because if this somehow got back to Jack, or to anyone at all, you would be humiliated at best and divorced at worse.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, you think, but it wouldn’t be good for anyone. But it lights enough panic in you to get your head on straight.

“I’m serious, Elvis. Not a word from either of us,” you reiterate, as Elvis’ face has become unreadable. Your body still feels hot and you will your heart to slow, praying that he’ll give you the answer you need so you can get the hell out of here.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods, “Not a peep.” He purses his lips and mimes locking them and throwing away the key. You want to roll your eyes, but instead breathe a sigh of relief. You turn, quick on your heel to leave, needing as far away as possible from this whole situation. Far away from him.

“Y/n?” he calls out from behind you as you reach for the door.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you brace yourself for a quip. You turn, not expecting to see the apologetic look on his face that you do. It’s almost childlike in its sincerity, his eyes big and mournful.

“I-I’m sorry I lost my temper. I-I-I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that,” he says, playing with his ring nervously.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. An apology is not at all what you were expecting. You blink a couple of times, your whirlwind of emotions calming for a moment.

“Thank you, E. And I’m sorry for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. It really is none of my business,” you add, cheeks warming again as you look down, feeling embarrassed for all the reasons, feeling exposed under his gaze.

“Naw, baby, you’re just callin’ it as you see it. You’ve never pulled punches with me, and I don’t expect you to start now,” he replies, lip curling up in a smile.

You nod. “Even so, I’ll do my best to refrain from spying on you in the future.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay.” You turn and leave before he has a chance to stop you again. Hurrying to the bedroom you are sharing with Jack, you lock yourself in, lean back on the door, and slide to the floor with your head in your hands.

What in god’s name came over you? Why would you do such a thing? And why in the hell did you like it when he touched you like that? Panic and guilt run through your veins like ice. You push all the thoughts away, as deep and as far as they will go.

Not a word. Pretend this never happened. Nothing is wrong if it never happened.

You repeat it in your head until it sticks.

*

Carrying the black folder with your sheet music, you take a deep breath and take a seat on the stage behind the curtains that hide the backstage from the audience. You’ve never been backstage for one of his shows, and it is bustling with musicians. Your job tonight is to follow along with the Sweet Inspirations and see if you can find your footing in the music while the show is happening. With the volume on stage, no one should be able to hear you from out front.

Nerves flow through you, nevertheless. It’s been a crazy three days with the vocal coach, who has assured you that, yes, you have the capability to do this and are “a natural,” but that you need to work through your stage fright. You’re not sure if it is her idea or Elvis’ to put you backstage during a performance, but here you are, your heart pounding as though you were going on stage with the rest of them.

In those three days, you haven’t seen Elvis alone, either. This has made you incredibly uneasy for a variety of reasons. Part of you is glad because you feel like your head is clearer about the whole affair, that you have some semblance of control, that if you want to end it (and you should) that you can.

However, another part of you craves his attention, missing him desperately, worried that he’s gotten what he wants from you and now is moving on. You keep thinking about how if he’s not spending his nights with you who might be keeping his bed warm instead. This fear is beginning to wreak havoc and is at odds with your logical thoughts. You know you need to get over it, to get over him, that all of this is just for fun anyways. It’s just sex. Nothing other than that was ever promised. He’s free to do what he wants with who he wants.

It's not as though you haven’t seen him, though, it just hasn’t been alone. Between your lessons, his schedule, and Jack seemingly looming everywhere, it’s been hard to steal any time away. As soon as you told Jack you were staying, that Elvis was offering you a job as part of the show, you couldn’t quite get a read on how he felt about it. Jack seemed surprised, a little annoyed, and wary when you told him. You were sure he wouldn’t want you around anymore, but instead he has been more attentive than usual, which has also thrown you for a loop. You don’t know if he suspects something might be going on, but he hasn’t been off cavorting until all hours of the night anymore, instead staying with the guys at the after party every night in Elvis’ suite.

In any case, all you and E have had are a couple of fleeting, longing looks and the occasional touch, which is maddening. He did come to one of your lessons, but remained professional in front of the coach, only giving you a quick peck on the cheek and left a lingering hand at your waist, burning through your dress and threatening to set you aflame right there and then.

During the after parties, where the gang, plus a lucky group of fans (usually pretty, young things), would come up and join you all. You smiled your way through the gatherings trying to appear as normal as possible as the girls flirted endlessly with Elvis, and he flirted back at them. Not to mention the way Jack would look at the girls, too. The whole situation was becoming untenable.

Thank god for Sandy, who always seemed to be there when you needed her, with a squeeze of a hand or a bump of your shoulder, stealing away with you to the bathroom when it all became too much.

But, lucky for you, you at least had a distraction of learning all the music for the show, hence why you are here now, amongst the fervent energy that is building backstage. The Sweet Inspirations just finished their set, and now everyone is waiting on the man of the hour.

You finally see him round the corner, clad in his black herringbone suit, the one you find impeccably flattering on him. He looks gorgeous but is vibrating with nervous energy and seems like he could be sick at any moment, his eyes focused on something only he can see. Involuntarily, you rise out of your chair in his presence, wanting to go to him, to comfort him, but you stop yourself. It isn’t your place, and you don’t want to distract him or possibly make his nerves worse.

Much to your surprise, Elvis seems to sense you, turning to you, and his cobalt eyes light up when they meet yours. He switches gears, much to the surprise of some of the guys, and walks towards you. They don’t follow, which you are glad for. You meet him, desperately wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but everyone seems to be watching. His eyes travel over your face, needy under the fear he’s experiencing.

“You’re here,” he says gratefully, as though it is a surprise that you actually showed up.

“I’m here,” you reply. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. But better now,” he says, those big blue eyes blinking at you with an almost shy smile.

“Me, too,” you laugh. God, you want to touch him so badly, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch.

“I miss you,” he whispers, and it nearly breaks your heart with the way it makes it swell in your chest.

“I miss you, too,” you nod breathlessly, “and we’ll talk later, but right now, you need to go out there and kick some ass, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks and letting it out slowly. He reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezing it tight, his huge rings cold against your skin. Then he turns abruptly, heads off, and cues the band to start.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Seeing that side of him, so needy and small, is such a contrast to how larger than life he is as he walks on that stage. It reminds you so much of the young man he once was, so different from the cocky, self-assured man he can be today.

Then the show starts in earnest and you sit back down, realizing you have a job to do and can’t just moon over him the entire show. You do your best to follow the music, humming along, quietly finding the high harmonies to the songs you feel like you’ve heard a million times but are now experiencing differently because you are listening for other things.

You do notice that some of his jokes are falling flat and that the audience isn’t responding as enthusiastically as they could be. Elvis fights for their attention, being the consummate performer that he is, and you can tell he’s a bit ruffled by it.

By the end of the show, you’ve been swept up in the music and it feels like no time has passed, your nerves long forgotten. It’s an amazing feeling, really, as the crowd applauds and the curtain falls and everyone bustles with after-show energy. Even though you weren’t officially on stage, you still feel swept up in the high of it all and it’s invigorating.

Elvis, of course, is soaked with sweat, breathless as the swarm descends with compliments, though he doesn’t smile or seem to believe them even though he nods through them. You know he is a perfectionist in his own right and by his demeanor, he seems agitated by how the performance went. His eyes find yours only briefly, guarded, before he is hustled away. You hide your disappointment in collecting your music and instead focus your energy on conversing with some of the musicians as they pack up their instruments. The mood feels sour, dampened, as Elvis’ displeasure radiates even after he leaves. Your emotions are tumultuous, as you feel neglected, and you are glad when you see Sandy waiting for you so you can go up to the penthouse together.

“How’d it go?” she practically bounces. “How nervous were you?”

“Pretty nervous at first, but after the first song, I just kinda got swept up in the music. It was pretty remarkable, actually,” you reply. “Though E didn’t seem very happy with the show.”

She pulls you along, through the curtains and out into the hallway. “And how is…everything else?” she intones with a knowing look.

You sigh, shifting your music folder to the other arm, looking down. You hurry her along, away from prying ears. “He came up to me before the show and told me he missed me,” you whisper.

“Oooh, really? That’s good, right? Sometimes a man needs to know what he’s missing to really appreciate it,” she muses. “Do you miss him, too?”

“I don’t want to! But as soon as he was there in front of me, I felt like I was gonna come out of my skin to get to him. I’m just…having all these feelings I don’t know what to do with, San,” you fluster. “Every time I think I have a handle on it, something happens to remind me that I’m completely off the rails.”

“You’re not ‘completely off the rails’, y/n. You’ve just got it bad,” she says almost nonchalantly.

“Ugh! I’m desperate to see him alone, and seeing him but not being able to touch him or to do anything that might give us away is hard. Not to mention, all these girls hanging all over him is making me crazy, and Jack seems to be everywhere under foot all the sudden, which is even more maddening. Oh, I need to end this. I can’t keep doing this,” you whine.

“Listen to me, we are just gonna go upstairs and hang out with everyone just like normal, okay? And we’ll try to get you two alone at some point. I’ll talk to Jerry, okay?” Sandy says, grabbing you by the shoulders. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, babe,” you sigh. “I’m fine, really.”’

Sandy side-eyes you as you both head up to the top floor.

The guys have procured yet another gaggle of women and a few men to join the party tonight. Jack has planted himself next to you, uncharacteristically putting his arm around you. Surprised, you try not to stiffen, reminding yourself that this is your husband and it’s totally normal for him to put his arm around you, but it feels more possessive than affectionate. Or maybe you are just imagining it.

You busy yourself making small talk as you all wait for Elvis to appear. When he does, freshly washed, the smell wafts over you, reminding you of your most recent escapades in the shower. You flush a little at that, hiding your face by taking a drink.

Elvis glances at you only momentarily as he enters. He seems a little off, you think, a little edgy, as he commands the room and finds a seat amongst the girls. Your jaw tenses as they fawn and fall all over him, and he flirts back as though he can’t help it. This makes you insane to watch for the third night in a row. All you can think about is his hands on someone else the way you want them to be on you.

And the more you want Elvis’ hands on you, you instead get Jack’s, which seem to be gripping you at all times in some way. Over your shoulder, on your knee, on your hand…you’re trapped in this tortuous hellscape where you would do anything to get him to stop touching you, but you can’t, you can’t without it giving yourself away.

You are equally trapped as you watch your lover give his attention to everyone but you. Every time Elvis laughs or smiles or his eyes sparkle flirtatiously, or if he touches one of them or when they touch him, you want to launch right out of your chair at him.

He wants them, you think. That’s why he hasn’t seen you the last few days. He’s been with other women.

The thought drips like poison into your heart, twisting it, filling you with anger and sadness.

Why would he want you when he can have any pretty young thing? No one wants you. No one chooses you. It drips again, icy and brutal.

All of it goes on for what feels like an eternity, and you want to scream, to cry, to escape, but you’ve made this bed and now are being forced to lie in it. It’s your punishment for all your misdeeds, you think. But your stomach is rolling with an ever-growing fury at Jack, at Elvis, at those girls, at yourself, and you start to squirm in your seat.

Finally, your jealousy gets the better of you. If Elvis won’t pay attention to you, then you’ll find someone else who will. It makes the most sense that it’s your husband, of course, who is already strangely attached to you tonight, so you bite your tongue and force yourself to return his affections instead of shirking from them. You lean into him, you put your hands on him, on his chest, his arm, his leg. You pretend it was like it was years ago, when you still both wanted each other more than anything. You throw yourself into the act because it takes your mind off the women across the room.

Jack is surprised, you can tell, but he’s not too far gone into the bottle and soon is returning your affections, pecking at your cheek and neck. After a while, when he whispers in your ear that he wants you, part of you is exhilarated, powerful, because finally your husband wants you again.

It’s in that moment when Elvis’ eyes find yours for only the second time since you’ve been here, those intense blues locking on as Jack’s breath tickles your ear. Elvis’ gaze darkens dangerously, and you watch his jaw clench as he watches you and Jack. And when Jack takes your hand, pulling you off the couch, you feel Elvis’ eyes burning holes into your back.

Finally, is all you can think. Finally, the men in your life are paying attention.

You are so wrapped up in this game, in your anger and your jealousy, that when Jack yanks you into the bathroom and locks the door behind him, you aren’t even upset about it. You want to be disgusted at him (and you are—you still hate him for what he’s put you through), but in this moment, he only has eyes for you and that’s all you want right now, even if it is misguided. Even if the love isn’t there like it’s supposed to be.

When he kisses you with his whisky-tinged breath, it almost feels like he cares. When he gropes you and touches your body in the places he thinks he knows will turn you on, you pretend that it does. You let yourself get swept into a fantasy, into the act, because at least it’s something to chase away all the terrible things you’ve done and all the terrible thoughts in your head.

When you grab at the straining erection in his pants, the heat of him burning into your palm, and hear his gasping moans in your ear, you feel powerful. As you sink to your knees, you relish the look of lust and surprise in your husband’s eyes, and it’s enough to keep you going, even though part of you is appalled. You take him into your mouth, closing your eyes, wishing he was someone else. Jack twists his hand in your hair as he leans against the counter, slack jawed, and you know this won’t take long. It makes it bearable. You’ve known him long enough to know exactly what to do: how to lick, where to touch, the noises you need to make. And you relish in the control you have as he comes undone in record time.

Jack is still gasping for breath when you stand, spitting what he left in your mouth in the sink and washing your mouth out. He grabs at your ass, panting, “Jesus, treasure, what’s got into you? That was fuckin’ hot.”

You shrug coyly at him in the mirror. “I gotta pee, sweetie,” you say, shooing him out, wanting him away from you. More than anything, you want to be alone to simmer in your anger and revulsion.

“Mmm, okay. Thanks, babe,” he hums, still obviously refracting, drunk on you rather than whisky for once. He kisses your cheek sloppily before zipping up and heading out. It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t even make an attempt to get you off. Not that he could, but it figures.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair askew and cheeks red, eyes blazing. This is the woman I’ve become, you think bitterly. I’m either fucking my lover with my husband in the next room, or I’m sucking off my husband with my lover in the next room.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You don’t recognize yourself anymore. You ache for Elvis, but you cover it with anger and jealousy and fear. You hate Jack for what he’s done to you, yet you fall into him and use him the first chance you get.

Rooting around in the drawers, you find some toothpaste and swish it around in your mouth, hoping, wanting to get the taste of Jack, the taste of your own bitterness out. You wash your hands and comb your hair, wondering if this was enough, if you can go back out there at watch Elvis with those women and not die a little inside.

Knock, knock.

The insistent rap on the door startles the hell out of you and you jump. “One second!” you shout with one last look in the mirror. You open the door quickly, not wanting to keep whoever is waiting, and walk out.

And you run smack into Elvis’ chest. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s him—at this point you know his physique and his scent anywhere. A little yelp escapes your lips, and you feel the heat, the anger rolling off him in waves. You gulp, raising your eyes to his and they are as hard and dark as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart jumps into your throat as he grabs you by the arm and yanks you across the hall, throwing you into his bedroom and slamming the door behind so hard that the wall shakes.

You stumble for a second in your heels but recover quickly, turning to face him. Elvis is furious, in that terrifying way you’ve seen before, nearly blacked out with rage. You can see him barely holding on, gripping to a sliver of sanity as he faces you, chest heaving.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he seethes, his hands fisted and jaw clenching and unclenching, black hair tumbling over his forehead.

Your heart sprints in your chest and you unconsciously step backwards before you catch yourself and stop, lifting your chin at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say almost haughtily.

“The fuck you don’t,” he says, advancing on you. You scurry back again, putting the large couch in between the two of you. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was all over you and how you were all over him out there for everyone to see?? You think I didn’t know what was goin’ on when you left?? You think I didn’t see his fuckin’ face comin’ back into the room, grinnin’ like an idiot?!” he screams, grabbing a bottle of water off the coffee table and hurling into the wall.

You flinch as the bottle explodes, glass tinkling down to the floor. “Elvis, stop it! Calm down, everyone can hear you!” you hiss, trying to knock some sense into him, but he’s way beyond that.

“I don’t give a shit!” he yells. “How could you fuckin’ do that?” The rage and the hurt you see in his blacked-out eyes is more than you ever expected and tugs at your heart. But you are still furious in your own right, furious at him for this display, furious at the whole situation.

“How could I do what, E? What? Be with my husband? My husband? Or have you forgotten since the stunt you pulled the other day in the bathroom that I have one?” you throw back at him, “That I have to go back to my room every night to him, pretending like everything is fine? Did you forget that?”

You’re not even sure if he hears you with how gone he is. He rounds the couch, coming for you. Scrambling back, you find that you have nowhere to go, your back is against the wall. Reaching you, he grabs your face in his large hands, his intense eyes drilling into you. “I don’t ever want to see you looking at another man, touching another man. I’m a really jealous motherfucker, y/n. And I don’t ever, ever, ever want you to be with another man, I don’t care who he is. I want to know that you’re mine and all mine,” he heaves.

“Are you kidding me?” you say, wrenching out of his grasp. “How can you demand that of me when you know it’s not possible? I have to keep up the pretense of my marriage! And you think I don’t know that you’ve been with other women? It’s been three days, Elvis, I’m not an idiot!” He looks at you with a mix of dumbfounded innocence and rage. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Maybe it was the girl in your lap just now or the one kissing you that gave it away!”

Elvis growls, shaking his head, staring down at you with those endless eyes. “You’re just fuckin’ jealous. You’re so jealous you went and fucked your husband in my bathroom to get my attention, is that it?” He slams his hand on the wall next to your head, but you refuse to react.

You know you shouldn’t say it, but he’s right and you know it. You did do it to get his attention, and now you have it. “No, baby, I didn’t fuck him. I just sucked him off and spit him out,” you say demurely, cutting, batting your eyes at him, knowing and not caring how awful you’re being.

The way his eyes widen betrays his shock, but he covers it quickly as they narrow. You wonder for a moment if you should be truly afraid because you have pushed him too far, but you almost don’t care. Part of you wants him to feel all of this, a fraction of the tumultuousness that you’ve been feeling for the last week.

“Hmmm…,” he hums, then clicks his mouth. His eyes are black and blazing as they pass over your body. This stillness is almost more frightening than the shouting. You shiver, trembling, but it’s just as much from your own anger as from his, and you can feel the fury laced with something else entirely. You refuse to back down or look away.

~

“You goddamn fuckin’ little brat,” Elvis finally snarls and yanks you with him to the couch. He slams down and pulls you over his knees, and suddenly, a memory from a long time ago flashes in your brain, one you had entirely pushed out of your mind. You choke on it as it floods back to you, knowing he must remember, too, knowing that everything is quite different this time around.

You gasp when Elvis pulls up your dress and yanks down your panties, the cold air of the room hitting your most sensitive areas. “Elvis! Elvis, don’t you dare, don’t you even--!” you shriek, writhing in his lap, not knowing if your words are protests or encouragements at this point.

When his open palm slaps your ass, the sound reverberates through the suite, the sting radiating down your thighs and sending water into your eyes. You gasp again, more from surprise than anything. Surprise that while it smarts, it doesn’t feel bad.

“Elvis,” you breathe out, wriggling in his lap.

He holds you to him. “Oh, don’t you ‘Elvis’ me. You’ve been an obstinate, naughty lil’ brat, and I ain’t havin’ it,” he says through gritted teeth before bringing his hand biting down onto the other cheek.

You hold back your cry, digging your nails into his thigh instead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big reaction. Beyond the sting, you feel heat gathering in your belly, but you don’t want him to know that either.

“Seems ya need a lesson or two about how to behave, now don’tcha, you naughty lil’ girl?” he seethes, laced with a sneer. He brings down his hand again, and this time you can’t hold back the sound that emanates from your throat, a whiny moan.

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Elvis purrs wickedly, rubbing your stinging skin with his fingers. You are completely at his mercy now, your frustrations unravelling under his touch. You buck in his lap, needing more, needing him to ease your toxic thoughts.

“Hmm, you like rilin’ me up? Like gettin’ me all worked up and jealous, huh?” He smacks your ass again, this time his fingers grazing your core. You moan fully now, unable and unwilling to contain it, tears running down your face, your heat building in the most confounding of ways.

“Answer me—didja pull that lil’ stunt on purpose, baby?” he asks, his hand reverberating on you again.

“Y-yes,” you breathe out.

“Yes, what?” he pushes, palming your ass, leaning down towards your ear, his breath hot.

It takes you a second in your haze to piece together what exactly Elvis wants, and once you do, it sends a delectable shiver down your spine. Once again, he never ceases to amaze you in how he can bring out pleasure in you that you never knew you craved or needed.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whine.

You hear him choke back a groan at that and next to your arm, you feel a twitch in his pants. You can’t help but smile.

“You wanted my attention, and now you’re gettin’ it, honey. Is that what you want?” he says, heat leeching from his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe again.

He brings his hand down one more time with a grunt, and you cry out in pleasure and pain, ass raw but you are somehow feeling a release that you didn’t know you needed.

~

“Look at you, baby,” Elvis says, somewhere between pride and surprise, running a finger through your folds, which unbeknownst to you are dripping wet. You bite your lip at the contact, sucking a breath in. You want him to touch you, but instead he pulls you up to face him. You hiss at the feeling of your raw ass hitting the backs of your heels as you kneel on the sofa.

He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, tears staining your cheeks. “I need ya to look at me, honey,” he orders. You do. His eyes are still dark, but his fury has been tempered by lust.

“You been waitin’ eight long years for me to do that, haven’t ya?” he murmurs. Of course, he remembers exactly how long it’s been.

Your heart flutters and you nod, admitting to yourself that it may have crossed your mind once or twice, in your most secret moments.

“Ain’t nobody else touched you like that, baby?” The way he asks it is almost laced with hope, hope that this is something of you that only he gets to have.

“Never,” you whisper, shaking your head, his hand still gripping your chin.

“Only me, huh? Good girl,” he says, pleased. He lets go of your chin, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. Then he looks in your eyes.

“I need you to be truthful with me now, baby, yeah? Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Do you want me to keep bein’ rough with ya? Are ya likin’ that? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna stop,” he asks, voice real low.

You appreciate him pausing long enough to ask you and you consider him for a moment, though it doesn’t take long. “Yes, I like it,” you say, surprising yourself with the truth of it.

That dark look flashes over Elvis’ face again, and it sends a thrill right through you.

“Okay, but you tell me if you need me to stop, promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good, cuz I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet and I’m still fuckin’ pissed,” he growls. Your heart plummets into your belly with excitement as you watch the sweetness drain from his eyes, replaced by his fervent anger from earlier.

And you smile.

**

Taglist:

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

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@sassanoe 

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

[cable-knit-sweater]

MAYAAAAAA 😫😫😫 I know I’ve been in your inbox already once today, but I just saw you reblog This Fucking Post™ of This Fucking Guy™ and— EXCUSE ME. I AM UNWELL. 

So now I can’t help but think about how this particular Seb is a bit more confident and cocksure (pun at least 50% intended) than usual, and how it completely throws Chris for a loop and maybe they haven’t seen each other for a while and they’re finally alone and making out like teenagers on Seb’s couch and Chris is reeling from how assertive and self-assured Seb is, not to mention how stupidly fucking hot he looks, and listen. LISTEN. Chris loves it, he really, really does, but he’s just used to being a bit more in charge, and being able to reduce Seb into a boneless, speechless mess with relative ease (much like Seb’s doing to him, right now).

Chris is kinda getting lost inside his head when his hand finds its familiar way into Seb’s hair, fingers curling gently but surely around the lengths, and tugging— 

Seb makes the tiniest noise in the back of his throat, but Chris can feel the tremor that runs through him, so he pulls a bit harder, a bit meaner. 

There it is. 

“Screw you,” Seb breathes, but it comes out wrapped in an unmistakeable moan. 

Chris just laughs, mouthing at the hinge of his jaw in a way that makes Seb squirm into the cushions. 

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Seb huffs even while closing his eyes and melting into the touch. 

“Aww, honey,” Chris purrs in response. “You’re the nice thing.” 

Idk what this even is but I totally blame you & Minnie for it 😇💕

OH MY FUCKING GODDDD KAY MY SUNFLOWER BABY 😭😭😭😍😍🥵🥵🥵🥵

Okay. Calming down for a second but GOD I love you so fucking much.

I saw your other ask and I LOVE it, also @sparkagrace has been begging me for something similar and I will have so much fun writing it, so thank youuuu for sending me that prompt (also? I love the hive mind so freaking much lol 💗💗)

But getting back to the rest of your ask bc oh my god are you in my head??? This is like a perfect scenario and I’m obsessed 😫 Anyone who even knows me a little bit knows how weak I am for this Seb:

Like uncontrollable sobbing, unhinged screeching, want to BITE, that kind of weak 😭

But back to your scenario.

One of my favorite things is Seb being a little cocky and Chris being surprised by it and LOVING it, but alsoooo trying to find a way to reduce Seb to a whimpering mess again 😫 I love how in this scenario Chris goes with it for a little but then he just needs to do one thing, and Sebastian is done for (much like I am).

And they both love it. Chris loves it when his boyfriend is assertive, makes known what he loves and wants; whether it’s through making those delicious noises or by showing Chris what he wants by being a little more demanding like this. He always thinks Sebastian is hot, unbelievably gorgeous, but there’s something about him when he smirks at Chris in that way of his, when Sebastian looks all self-assured and like he knows he’s the hottest thing out there, because in Chris’s mind he always is. So he lets Sebastian do what he wants for a little, until instinct takes over…and his instinct will always be to love on Sebastian so much, to make him feel soooo good, that Sebastian just melts into whatever surface they’ve ended up on and lets Chris make him feel even better.

The moment that happens always causes Chris’s brain to short circuit for a second. When Sebastian’s features go slack, when he moans so loudly, when he starts to give himself over to Chris. It’s not so much surprise as it is pure awe; that he can have that effect on Sebastian, that Sebastian loves it as much as he does, that Sebastian lets him do this.

Sebastian loves it when Chris takes charge and just, instinctively knows what he needs, but sometimes he just can’t control himself, feeling sooo good about himself and wanting Chris to feel good too, needing to be close, so he just goes for it.

He can’t help but feeling a little hungry, a little feral when they’ve been apart for a while, needing his hands all over Chris and needing Chris’s hands all over him. Rile him up as much as he can until he gets Chris to growl a little and manhandle him, pull at his hair, letting Chris take charge again easily.

Riling Chris up is maybe one of his favorite things to do. It’s almost like a little game they play, and even if Seb complains a little when Chris takes over and makes him all weak-kneed, it’s all he wants.

ALSO, Chris is right, he is the nice thing 😭 and BLESS you so much for dropping these incredible thoughts into my inbox, GOD, I’m gonna need some more time to think about this 🥵.

I LOVE YOU (and your incredible brain) SOOO MUCH 💕💕💕💕💕 Sending you the biggest polar bear hugs and all the smooches 😘😘

Alsooo I think @musette22 will agree with me that we’ll gladly take the blame if it leads to something like this 🥰🥰🥰

#maya answers #evanstan #rpf #KAYYYY 🌻🌻🌻🌻 #I cannot EXPRESS how much I love this AHHHHHHHH #my brain is short circuiting #Ughhh #these two

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim Bickerman x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: 🏕 🏕 Inspired by the fact that I think I'd become instantly pregnant if I saw him build a campfire 😅. 🏕🏕

Warnings: Sexual references and a stated 40 year age gap.

Tagging: @marinerainbow and @masqueradeball

You had gotten completely worked up watching Jim build the campfire. You asked of you could help earlier, and you did wander around collecting twigs for him but after that he made you sit down and 'relax' ("Jim- but- I wanna help- " "No no no thats alright sweet thing just siddown and watch ol Jimmy show you how its done, yeah?" Then he winked, and you plopped down in your seat, shaking your head at him but grinning. Whatever, fine, I can chill. Sceneries beautiful- you look good too- ). It was funny at first, him really thinking this was a 'move', but... holy shit it was not a joke anymore?? It worked??? You were turned on ? ? ?

You have got to learn not underestimate him at some point. Ever. Just because he's kind of nuts doesn't mean he doesn't still have those... forty-ish years on you 😶‍🌫️

Because something embarrassing has definitely been awoken in you watching this, setting your skin aflame as you stay very quiet curled up in your fold-out out chair, knees-close-to-your-chest and cool new hiking boots perched up on your seat, just watching in awkward aroused bafflement. You're trying to figure out what exactly it was, between him crouching over the pit and pulling the brim of his hat up away from his eyes, and arranging the logs, and stuffing dry leaves and grass further in the middle, that got you so hot! Was it when he pulled out the lighter from his jacket?? Oh boy-

Fire starts to lick out steadily from the middle of the pile built up of twigs and dry leaves and kindling, and Jim tugs his hat down again; grinning with pride. That look in his eyes that he always gets when he's Done something. Something he knows he might get in trouble for but, in his mind, is definitely worth the risk. You shake your head and look away, laughing silently- At him and at yourself. Mostly at yourself. You're such a jellyfish when it comes to that man grinning.

Oh man.

After a moment more of quiet between you two, the kind thats not awkward (You don't have to talk all the time, it's just nice to be near eachother), you turn back to him with a very firm, pointed look; Though theirs a grin of your own quirking at one corner of your mouth, the amusement and the - you know, - finding him unbearbly attractive thing, keeping you from being able to act actually annoyed. Also why would you?? You're kinda fond of him afterall. He makes a fake, knowing, 'whatever did I do this time??' kind of look back.

"... do you do that to all your unsuspecting dates Jim??"

... a slow, mischievous smirk spreads across his haggard face. "Aww now you and I both know I didn't needta pull out the big guns with you. Scored you fair and square, didn't I?"

'Scored'- my goodness, Jim. What am I? A claw machine toy? "So this was just sport to you, huh??" Turning me into soup. That's fun for this man?? Of course it is.

"Uhuh, yeh, pretty much."

"Jim!" You exclaimed then, jaw dropped and searching over the side of your chair for a twig or something to chuck at him while he raises his hands in surrender.

"Hey pumpkin I'm not claimin' I'm not, ahh.. prepared, to take you into that tent now and help ya take care of your little problem!~ "

That makes you laugh, giving up your search for something to throw and unfurling yourself from the fold-out chair. Thoughtfully you run a hand through your hair, cheeks hot. Of course he is prepared. You're alone in the woods together. This was coming.

On one hand... thats an enticing suggestion seeing as you can definitely feel your heart speeding up and the rest of your body feeling burning hot under his stare, but on the other...

"Oh!" Suddenly he's up and next to you, curling a cheeky arm around you and guiding you into him. But- but... Your eyes flicker from his to the fire, which has grown into a very steady campfire in the short time that you were talking. Both the fire and the look he is giving you are making you overheat and its the middle of fricken November/June. "... is that gonna be safe to leave alone?"

"Wh- oh... " The fact that for a moment Jim had no idea what you were talking about, having forgotten the raging flame right next to you both is dangerous, is a cute and funny reminder that while he is capable and thats immensely hot to you he is also a little crazy- and you like that too, honestly. He turns his head to look at the pit, looking vaguely concerned, and just uses his boot to shove one of the stones surrounding the fire closer into the circle; closing it in the wall slightly more securely. "Oh. Uh. Yeah, that'll be fine."

Wh- I- does he- he doesnt think thats going to cut it does he? My guy- "... thats- um- not as encouraging as you think,.. Are you sure?"

He shrugs, assessing the firepit still and not looking at you despite the close quarters he's still holding you in. "Oh sure, peanut." When he looks back at you again and sees the truly not-assured look on your face, Jim puts on what is his best, most reassuring smile (which is still disconserting but does remind you that he wouldnt let anything bad happen to you, at least). You see it and you believe it. You might be naive, you might be in love, but you believe it. You might be the only person in the world now who would. "Fire's not gettin' out with those rocks sealing it in, there. Trust me."

"Hmmm okay... "

"Besides," he chuckles, a nervous chuckle. "We'll definitely know if the forest catches fire." Oh lord- "Now- " Immediately Jim switches tact and squeezes you against him. Eek!- "We were rampin up to something peanut, why don't you tell me what that was?~"

The brim of his old hat brushes against your forehead you're so close, his hands both creeping around the back of your jeans and hooking themselves into your belt loops, and your own following his behind your back; hooking onto his sleeves in turn. "Oh right!- you wanted to help me out." You fake-recall, struggling not to snort and laugh.

"I did... " He nods slowly, a mischievous smug grin on his damn mug.

"... -was it with my taxes?"

"Darlin', get in the tent."

... God. Before you do, you lean in and peck a quick but lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth.

#I CANNOT WRITE FLIRTING IM SORRY- #hence '... was it my taxes?' 😅😅😅 #please dont fluster me i will s h u t d o w n- #XD #Jim Bickerman x Reader Excerpt #Jim Bickerman x Reader #Jim Bickerman #Lake Placid; Final Chapter #Excerpt

[kaylassturniolo]

Engaged

requested: yes "Hey can i get a zerkaa fiic about the engagement please ty xx" @xixzerkaaxix

warnings/notes: none + i hope this is what you had in mind!!

how i think Josh and Freya's engagement went

i think josh would've told her to get her nails done, and what design so it would match the ring

that caused freya to become a little suspicious but not thinking too much about it

josh treating her like the queen she is all day

him kinda throwing out little hints about what he's gonna do

freya kinda guessing what's happening but not saying anything cause josh looks so happy

having booked a little get away so no one is near them when it happens

josh taking freya out to dinner and having workers decorate their entire place to make it look all romantic for the both of them

josh freaking out internally even though he knows freya would say yes

freya freaking out internally even though she knows she'd say yes

all in all they're both internally freaking out

a nice walk on a beach before going back to the place they're staying at

walking back up to the place and josh covering her eyes before stepping into the house

guiding her into the room, mostly without her hitting something

josh making sure the ring is in his pocket so he can get down asap

uncovering her eyes but just wishing he could see her face

him getting down on his one knee

freya staring at the room in shock before turning around

almost instantly crying

both of them have waited years for this

josh having a speech made in his head but not being able to remember it as he stares at the most beautiful women he has ever laid eyes on

freya crying as soon as josh starts speaking

her instantly saying yes, without a second thought

josh putting the ring on his now fiance's finger

having to get photos taken but freya saying she needs to sort out her make up before anything

now both just crying and hugging each other so happily

both of them just so happy after such an amazing night

they deffo got it on that night but its different because now there engaged

ahh i really hope that was good for a first imagine type thing, if you have any more requests please just ask!!

25.1.24

#joshua bradley #sidemen #sdmn #freya nightingale #zerkaa #jj olatunji #ksi #minimimter #w2s #behzinga #vikkstar123 #tbjzl #youtube #Spotify

[testing-12-testing]

HIIIII i have THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS about fandrew. and u can tell,. he's strange! hes weird! he doesn't really know how to interact w/ ppl so he just spouts out the first things that come to mind. if he does have something to say he thinks about beforehand he goes over it over and over in his head and still manages to mess it up. most of the other bots don't like him (fandroid is TERRIFIED of him after the box incident, bpo finds him annoying, he makes melody uncomfortable). but all he wants is to be loved. he wants to have attention and praise like fandroid! he wants to BE fandroid. i've compared him to a first draft and fandroid to the finished product, but i don't think that's metaphor. his Purpose was TO BE A PROTOTYPE. to be incomplete. he can't sing because ADHOC hadn't decided on the idea of a musical robot yet. his faces are all wacky because they're placeholders. he doesn't even have hands because why would a test drive need them? he was made to be thrown away and he KNOWS this and he HATES it. he's good at hiding it though. he might not be able to sing but he's a great actor. (get this man on stage!!!)

nd then enter 404. someone who knows his pain kind of sort of. was nice to him! instant win!!! so he follows 404 like a lost puppy in the rain because this is The First Guy Who UNDERSTANDS. and he gets to hurt fandroid too?!?!? #WIN in his book. Fandrew can drop the silly guy act around 404. this only makes 404 want to kill ppl more. a vicious cycle but by god do they care about each other. sorry for ranting in your inbox. i just think abt them a lot

NO YOURE LITERALLY SO RIGHT THOUGH?? Fandrew is so much more interesting when put through this kinda lense. i think it makes him a very sympathetic character, even if hes going through, like. a villian arc.

What really throws me off is how... civil he and fandroid were during stream 14. Like was it an uneasy truce, or is fandrew just trying to be nice to fool them? fandroid seems to have mostly stopped hating him (atleast out loud, because yknow. he wouldnt say he was terrified in front of the guy hes scared of)

but like during that end bit he does say "i always kinda thought you were cool!" (or something like that) while fandrew is "dying", so like what is their deal now

also apparently he Does try communicating with 404, considering the recent stream. Dunno what 404s opinion of his is yet but if its like your interpretation i think thatd be cool beans 👍 :]

#adhoc labs #fandroid #fandroid the musical robot #fandrew

[silent-lily]

sleep is for the weak... or not (a JohnKat drabble)

(heya, JohnKats, come get your stuff. I wrote this yesterday at 3AM when I was really sleepy ahahah) (on AO3 here) / / /

The bright light of the computer screen was awfully hurting his eyes in almost complete darkness – if you didn’t count the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table. The letters were starting to swim, pictures – blur into incomprehensible bullshit, and all in all he caught himself staring into nowhere for five minutes only to come back to himself a bit later and once again concentrate on the opened Trollian window (or whatever the shit he had there). His head felt like it was stuffed with a zillion of steel balls, and somewhere in the back of his mind lurked a desire to finally lay it down along with his long-suffering body. To close his eyes and…

Ugh, right, no. It’s fairly known what comes right afterwards. Nope. Nah. Abso-fucking-lutely not. Come on, asshole, pull yourself together and shake off this unwanted veil of sleep. You know perfectly well that its whispers that promise a nice and relaxing nap are a huge fat lie wrapped in even more lies. And that in reality only a bunch of gnarly shit awaits behind the shut lids like rivers of blood, piles of corpses (of your friends) and death-death-death…

- Dude, you’ve been staring at this page for a good half an hour without clicking away. I think it means only one thing – time to wrap up and finally go to bed, – dammit, just when he’d gathered his wits to give himself a good wake-up smack, a hand appeared in his sight and in a completely rude way started shutting the lid of his husktop. Nope, fat fucking chance.

- Egbert, I kinda understand you usually have a hard fucking time to not annoy the shit out of me, – grinding his teeth, Karkat firmly grasped the wrist of the offending limb, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, – but trust me – right now is absolutely not the fucking time for that. If you really want it that much – go on, fuck right off to the embrace of blanket and pillows. And leave me the fuck alone.

- But Karkat, – eurgh, shit, this dumbass stretched the vowels of his name again in such a manner that made it a bit hard to stay angry. And a cold, somewhat dear nowadays hand placed itself on his shoulder and squeezed it, – I can’t do something so selfish as to leave you here like that! What will you do without me? All alone, sad and cold...

- Okay, that last one is absolute bullshit, – here Vantas decided he’s had enough and turned away from the awfully bright monitor, facing the one who disturbed his peace. Ah, these mischevious blue eyes and no less mischevious grin. How he missed them (not) (well maybe a little). – I know your hidden agenda – you’re dying to lure me into this trap so that you’ll be able to leech off of my warmth, you damn icicle. Can you guess my response to this?

- Well… «Yes, John, you’re right – I just can’t refuse the sweet healing hugs before sleep so let’s go to bed»? – and that grin had the audacity to become wider. Fan-fucking-tastic.

There was a huge desire to just outright say everything he thought of all the other’s antics, but alas the godawful pounding in his head resumed, and his eyes felt like a bunch of sand has been thrown in them. Ugh, for fuck’s sake. Karkat rubbed his eyes again then pressed the heels of his palms against them.

- Seriously, John, now’s really not the best time… – he began, deciding to overstep himself and throw away all his idiocy and his own pride a little. But of course he was interrupted here, too – chilly fingers pried his hands away from his eyes and lightly squeezed them.

- You’ve got nothing to be scared of, Kar, – the playfulness on the other’s face changed to soft seriousness. – Last time you slept almost without nightmares. Remember?

Well, couldn’t argue with that – after all, matesprit’s closeness was calming even in sleep, so the nightmares usually instantly backed off. Still…

- I do. I just… can’t get used to it still. You know, after everything we’ve been through…

His palms were squeezed once more.

- But that’s all in the past now. You’re here and I’m here, too. And our friends – all of them are here with us, nearby. The game is long since over, – here John paused then laughed sadly. – Though, I get it – have a lot of my own… stuff to deal with at times.

Yeah. «Stuff». Each of them had a whole fuckton of this «stuff». Even the self-proclaimed therapist of their group – Lalonde kept all kinds of «skeletons» hidden in her closet. Luckily, she had Kanaya – her loving wife, always ready to support her if any of those «skeletal motherfuckers» dared to show their ugly bony mug.

And the two of them… had each other. A recipe for a pretty sweet disaster.

- Fine. Five more minutes – and I’ll crawl to bed to be your free personal heater, dumbass, – Vantas snorted in the end.

«And to keep your own nightmares at bay», – this was left unsaid. But could clearly be read in his look to the other’s eyes.

- Deal! – Egbert grinned as usual, then smooched him on the forehead (earning a chuckle in return) and finally let go of his hands. – Don’t take too long!

- Yeah, yeah, sure.

«I’ll never keep you waiting for long».

#my fic #homestuck #johnkat #john egbert #karkat vantas #yeah I know it's not canon but what the fuck ever #imagine they got together later after the game on Earth C #eat this fluff #all of it

[prowerprojects]

My gut still telling me he'll be the last "restored". (But the counterparts possibly having visions of him is up on the table.)

Similarly in the Advance games, Cream's ears appear outside of her spindash. Sometimes things that aren't wholly realistic or follow RL logic is better artistically.

Heh, well, it makes sense that Tails; being a techie, has a signature multifunctional device that assists him in most cases. Just like Eggman's Eggmobile, I think most understand and can get behind that. But, as I said before, some dislike how 'mundane' it is and wish Tails would just drop the thing and get physically into the action. (I don't agree, but I get where they're coming from. {Probably doesn't help that other inventions that aren't vehicles kinda faded away too} It has potential, just needs to shown more on field. The movies suggesting it can create fake clones on top of what it already does was a good addition.)

Kids being inspired by what they saw on a screen?! Sounds peculiar. xD (But yeah, I could see Sonic feel envy of Tails' skills, but would NEVER hold it against him. He values his opinion and effort on things very much.)

Oohh could be. I just wanna see him again, please.

Yeah, true. And sometimes it's more convenient for gameplay (like Tails being able to pull himself and the Cyclone up with one hand xnxndjdjdjd)

I was gonna compare it to the Eggmobile but changed my mind for some reason, but I'm glad you brought it up! It's nice to see that I'm not the only person who thinks they can be compared in terms of being iconic devices associated with their creators. (I'm hoping it's not gonna get phased out just because some people don't like it, there's no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater, you just gotta dig into its potential). Though I want to see more different inventions too!

Exactly! Sonic respects Tails, and I think he also feels proud of Tails's skills, not only in a "look how far he's come" but also in "I'm so lucky to have such a cool friend!" way.

#tails #blue blur #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #project.txt #miles tails prower #tails the fox #project.ask

[bbarican]

july 30, 2023; 7:21 pm - life updates

hi, tumblr! its been a minute ~ how are you guys? isnt it so weird that july just decided to be a blip and is now over like it never actually happened even though it was a super busy month? either way, im here to update ya'll on how ive been and other things and if youre interested, just keep reading along; either way, i love you!

family:

bittersweetly, wala na kaming bisita sa bahay; ang weird kasi my mom pointed out na we had visitors nga pala ever since may, thats a lot of time to have people over at your house and to not have privacy; it is sad though to have the house this quiet again but i, glad for the memories we all made over the course of everyone's stay

i treated my mom to a mani pedi session yesterday and it was really nice and relaxing; i finally got my nails done again and im so happy!

other than the aforementioned, we dont have a lot going on except the fact that we're going to a lunch buffet on saturday so atleast we have something to look forward to

im just really excited for the rest of the year and what that holds for me and my family

personal life:

im in a much better headspace and i am truly grateful for whatever or whoever helped me along the way

july was tough kasi i kept pushing myself to my limit without really noticing and again its very bittersweet kasi a part of me is super proud na i can actually juggle so much but at the same time my mind was not doing okay

but im glad im better now; maybe it was just a bad and busy week but i know for a fact na hindi lang yun yung week na ganun sa buong buhay ko so atleast now i know i can actually handle it

i finished reading happy place by emily henry already and i love that book so much; it being about people around my age made it all the more relatable + its super funny + it hits a little too close to home knowing that im the same as the protagonist; overall, its such a great book and i wish i could read it for the first time ulit

been trying to download bumble again pero literally my phone wont let me kasi it always prompts me to fix my payment method sa apple id which is totally fine btw but it always ends up being in error so i just take that as a sign na downloading bumble is just gonna be a waste of time anyway

i need to buy clothes kasi 1.) i wanna invest in them (again, my mom has a point na i need to stop repeating my outfits as much as i do) and 2.) i have an event to go to on the 11th ata so i need to dress up for that

i also want to sell some of my stuff kasi day by day i just keep realizing na i have so much stuff and instead of throwing them away, might as well make some money out of them

work:

im relieved that work is better now; not as busy, but busy enough to keep me on my feet without actually killing me mentally

i love my officemates; i love how the board takers are back and that the noise is back too

na approve na din kaagad yung revisions namin for our community library project which means we get to go to ikea already and purchase the stuff we wanted to for the project

feels kinda weird din talaga to not have been able to go to the office for a week cause of the weather kaya tomorrow im really gonna push myself to go kahit na alam kong uulan parin kasi i just know im gonna be lazy as fuck if i dont go to the office nanaman

regarding our team building, again, im not so keen on pushing through with it this august kasi 1.) its raining, 2.) mahal na since we're booking for the same dates, and 3.) again, i have no idea what our budget is to begin with so its really hard to plan anything anyway

and yeah, thats it for my life updates ~ im beyond excited for august, so here's to making the last day of july super fun and productive and memorable in whatever way it could be

ingat kayong lahat especially since for sure uulan parin this week!

#bbarican #personal #thoughts #writings #list #life #update #updates #dump #me

[pain-suffering-even]

y'all. y'all its been. SO LONG.

i pinky promise i'm working on things behind the scenes... still just as in love with solo leveling as i was.

what EXACTLY am i working on? well, i wish i could say it was fics, but...

head canons! and also fic plots!

i'm working on head canons for:

the entire draw sword guild (don't ask why. i've been obsessed with them for some reason. really really mad that they didn't get more characterization in the manhwa. just know that all of 'em are my blorbos at the moment)

the american S rankers (thomas andre and christopher reed, as well as laura, even though she's a human, i think)

that one german S ranker (lennart niermann... god i love him)

the korean S rankers (jongin and yoonho specifically, but jinwoo, haein, byungyu, taegyu, and jinchul, even though he's technically A rank)

and liu zhigang (been having trouble with thinking of things for him, though... so no promises)

if your blorbo from solo leveling isn't on this list, honestly feel free to drop your own head canons into my ask box or just straight up DM me. there's sooo many characters in solo leveling that deserve to be thought out, and i like the idea of some of y'all helping me flesh out these characters (even if its ooc!!! if it makes you feel better... all of the head canons i've created are very ooc :') so don't feel bad about it!)

i've redone the way i format headcanons to be a little... easier to read. especially because i write these on a google doc before posting, and it was getting too chunky to filter through. so hopefully they will look nice as well!

now for the fic plots:

um... i might drop proximity and andromeda :') i didn't want to but... i just don't know how to continue either of those stories. i've kinda backed myself into a corner in proximity by throwing too many things in at once. and andromeda... i've straight up forgotten where i wanted to take it. i will say, a long ass time ago i wrote out the ending for andromeda because it was stuck in my mind for forever and i needed to get it out... might post it, if only to give you guys some closure or idea as to where i wanted to take the story? but that also depends if i go back, read it, and its not as good as i thought so no promises.

i may or may not post... some of the one-shots/drabbles i've created, if only to feed this fandom a little bit more. i'll probably get around to that soon after making this post, honestly, because the amount of free writing i do and it accidentally leads back to solo leveling... its enough to post a sizeable drabble collection lmao.

there's other fics behind the scenes! are they being written? course not! but i might throw out some plot ideas like i've done with the flower shop/tattoo parlor AU and the arsonist AU. because i have the plot itself just not the written fic, y'know? and now that i've started school again and have a part time job... probably wont be able to put as much effort into writing as i would like.

anyway. this got rambly. long story short: don't expect any fic updates (sorry), DO expect a one-shot/drabble collection to be posted, and maaaybe expect some plot and AU ideas to be posted as well. plus the new headcanons and their formats, of course.

um... that's all, i think. hope you guys are well :) and just know that even though i post sporadically, my obsession with solo leveling is still going strong!!! too strong, maybe

#fandom: solo leveling #solo leveling #only i level up #head canons #update post #fic #rambly post #longish post