#{there might be some major grammatical errors}

[imaginedisish]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life. 

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.  

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind. 

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway. 

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying. 

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down. 

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle. 

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.” 

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.  

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh. 

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back. 

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway. 

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs. 

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance. 

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering. 

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself. 

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin. 

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it. 

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.” 

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” 

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something. 

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile. 

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell. 

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall. 

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies. 

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest. 

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!” 

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth. 

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine. 

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you. 

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist. 

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest. 

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.   

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him. 

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter. 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say. 

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes. 

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—” 

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.” 

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.” 

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.” 

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down. 

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck.  You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum. 

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. 

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.  You, you think. 

“Me?” What? 

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.  

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours. 

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing. 

Everything is him. Logan. 

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you. 

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.  

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him. 

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.” 

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way. 

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other. 

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. 

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower. 

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass. 

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.” 

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes. 

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core. 

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.” 

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit. 

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement. 

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt. 

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out. 

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again. 

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly. 

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.” 

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good. 

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper. 

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you. 

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air. 

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence. 

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  

[adrienneleclerc]

And writing this I’m thinking, what if Charles is dating a reader who’s a HUGE F1 fan and is so expressive when she’s watching from the garage but like Rebecca kinda side eyes her and make her feel self conscious about how she acts, thinking to herself “am I being annoying? Loud?” Yes? No?

and the can she decide she dgaf because she's excited and showing her support to the person she loves?

That was always going to be the plan! Like home girl from the States, she’s Latina, we’re expressive! Even my mother who can’t stand soccer will be excited when it’s the World Cup! When it comes to Formula 1, personally, I am just as bad as the tifosi.

Not Your Average WAG

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N was not your average WAG, she does not go to the paddock in cute designer outfits, she walks into the paddock repping Ferrari. While fans LOVE her because she is just like them, a certain WAG does not.

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: No hate to Rebecca, I don't really have a set opinion on her like I don't know her. But she’s going to be a major BITCH like kinda classist as most stereotypical Europeans are. Also…I MADE IT TO 1K FOLLOWERS! But this is probably not my best work so do with that as you will.

Y/N and Charles were in Y/N’s Monaco apartment, Y/N was by the kitchen counter, eating some ice cream, while Charles was watching a movie on her couch and eating popcorn. Though Y/N and Charles have been dating for a year, Y/N has never been to a race, despite her being a big fan. She is the creative director of a fashion magazine so she doesn’t have much days off and ends up watching the race on the TV she has in her office until…

“Charles, muñeco, guess what.” Y/N said, sitting next to Charles on the couch, Charles paused the movie and turned to face Y/N.

“What happened, Mon coeur?” Charles asked, Y/N took the popcorn bowl and placed it on the coffee table.

“My boss gave me the okay to work remotely so I’m able to go to the Hungarian Grand Prix with you.” Y/N said.

“Really? That’s great! Finally, you’ll get to see me in action.” Charles said, pulling Y/N onto his lap.

“I can’t wait! I’m gonna be like Luigi in Cars, I have the Ferrari shirt you gave me, your hat, I have some things from Etsy that I could totally wear like the Forza Ferrari friendship bracelet. Oh, I’m so excited!” Y/N hugged Charles and he giggled at his cuddly girlfriend. When Y/N stopped hugging him, Charles just stared at her with that dopey smile on his face. “What?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing, you’re just so cute.” Charles said, kissing Y/N’s cose, making her scrunch her nose. “We’re going to Hungary tomorrow, you might wanna pack now.” Charles taps her thigh.

“Help me pack?” Y/N asked and Charles nodded, both getting up to go to her room to pick out the clothes she’ll wear this race weekend. “Wait, you sure I’ll be able to stay in your hotel and everything? I mean i am going last minute.”

“Oh Mon coeur, ma belle, belle petite amie, I was hoping your boss would give you the okay to work remotely so I already booked everything for us. So yes, you will be staying with me at a 5 star hotel in Budapest, beautiful view and everything.” Charles kissed Y/N “So I’m thinking we could go out every night, you’ve only been to New York and Monaco, so we are going sightseeing in Hungary.” Charles said, going into Y/N’s closet and start picking out what he would like to see his girlfriend wearing. Charles placed everything on her bed.

Y/N observed the outfits Charles picked out. “Wow, Charles, love the outfits, but you are such a guy, the yellow sundress?”

“You look so cute in it, though! Come on, mon coeur, you look amazing in these outfits and this way, I get to show up how beautiful my girlfriend is.” Charles said, kissing Y/N.

“Alright, it’s fine. I’ll just wear your hoodie on the plane with my jeans.” Y/N said.

“And you’ll still be the prettiest girl on that plane ever.” Charles said.

“Thank you.” Y/N said.

They landed in Budapest and Charles drove them to their hotel. Y/N was in awe of everything since she has never been to another European country before. When they got into their hotel room, Charles told Y/N to change into one of her cute outfits because they were going to meet Carlos and Rebecca at the hotel restaurant. Y/N came out with the first outfit.

“How do I look?” Y/N asked

“You look beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, stepping closer to kiss her and twirled her around. “You ready to meet them?”

“Yes, what, should I do my hair? I think it’s messy from the plane ride,” Y/N said

“Mon coeur, don’t panic, it looks fine, but if you want to do your hair, may I suggest a half up half down ponytail with the white bow?” Charles asked.

“Muñeco, why do you like it when I wear bows?” Y/N asked.

“Because it makes you look so cute.” Charles kissed her.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” Y/N did her hair and the two walked down to the restaurant. Carlos was the first one to stand up from the table to say hello to Charles and Y/N.

“Carlos, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” Charles introduced them, Carlos and Y/N greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.

“So nice to meet you, Charles talks about you constantly.” Carlos says and Charles blushes. “But here’s our table. Rebecca, this is Charles’s girlfriend, Y/N.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Y/N said.

“Nice to meet you too.” Rebecca said with a tight smile. “So Y/N, have you ever been to Budapest?

“No, this is my first time. I’ve only been to (the state your from or New York), (where your parents are from), and Monaco, obviously.” Y/N laughed off but she saw Rebecca make a face so she took a sip of water that was on the table. Don’t know why she’s judging when her name is literally a character from Full House.

“So Y/N, Charles tells me your a fan.” Carlos said and Y/N immediately became more comfortable, which Charles noticed immediately.

“Yes, I’m a huge fan. Ive always been a fan of Sebastian Vettel so when he went to Ferrari, I obviously went with him. But when he left, I stayed a Ferrari fan for you and Charles and damn, being a Ferrari fan is not easy.” Y/N said causing Charles and Carlos to laugh because it’s true, Rebecca didn’t react.

“You must be pretty excited to experience your race.” Carlos said.

“Oh, this is your first race?” Rebecca asked. “That’s a surprise considering you’re such a huge F1 fan.” She emphasized the word huge.

Lunch continued and when they finished, Charles and Y/N went to their hotel room.

“I think that went well.” Charles said.

“Are you kidding? Rebecca hates me.” Y/N said.

“She doesn’t hate you, she seemed very interested in getting to know you, asking you all those questions.” Charles said,

“Muñeco, i know you’re not a girl but don’t be such a guy, you didn’t see the faces she was making when I would talk. It’s like she hated to hear me talk.” Y/N said

“Well, Mon coeur, you two are going to spending a lot of time together this weekend.” Charles said.

“Well I know that but like what do we talk about? Because it became pretty clear I can’t talk about F1.” Y/N said.

“You’ll figure it out, bébé.” Charles said, kissing her.

The next 2 days were difficult for Y/N to say the least. On media day, she walked into the paddock with Charles, wearing a CL16 Ferrari jersey, black shorts, platform vans, and a CL16 Ferrari hat with pins she bought from Etsy.

“You look great.” Charles said, kissing her. “I’m going to the MainStage for some questions, you can walk around, try to get along with Rebecca.” Charles said.

“Okay, have fun.” Y/N said. She then starts walking around, she spotted Kika, who she has met on double dates with charles and Pierre, she was wearing a sundress. Kika then spotted Y/N.

“Y/N! Hey, I can’t believe you’re here, oh my gosh, you look so cute.” Kika said, hugging her, kissing her cheek.

“Me? You look amazing, I mean obviously, you’re an off duty model.” Y/N said laughing, Kika giggled as well.

“I gotta go with Pierre but I’ll call you.” Kika left and Y/N saw Rebecca wearing navy pants with a matching vest. She saw Y/N decked out in Ferrari and smiled

“Wow, if I didn’t know you, I’d think you were a crazed fan.” Rebecca said. Y/N didn’t react but kept walking around, hoping to run into Lily.

The rest of media day and Friday, Y/N tries to make conversation with Rebecca, she doesn’t really cooperate, Y/N gave up talking to her. It was now the qualifying session, Y/N and Rebecca were watching in the hospitality. Y/N saw that there were 3 minutes left in Q1 and Charles was a driver at risk.

“No no no no no no, come on, Charles.” Y/N was lowkey stressing but then Charles made it to 3rd in the last minute. “Yes!! Let’s go!” Y/N cheered, standing up from the couch. The rest of the quali sessions were like that, Y/N stressing whenever Carlos or Charles were drivers at risk and in the bottom 5. Y/N was beyond happy when Ferrari made 3 and 4, however, she noticed Rebecca side eyeing her whenever she was cheering, she tried to tone it down a little but she was happy for Charles because after Monaco, he wasn’t doing that well.

When Charles finished the interviews after quali, he entered the hospitality and sat next to Y/N on the couch.

“What did you think?” Charles asked.

“I’m so proud of you, you did so well.” Y/N said, hugging him.

“Let’s go to the hotel, change, and we’ll go out to eat?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N said. They went to the car, the ride was pretty quiet until.. “Am I annoying?”

“What do you mean ‘annoying’, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“Exactly what I’m asking, am I annoying? Are there days where I’m talking and you’re thinking ‘will she ever shut the fuck up?’ or not, muñeco?” Y/N asked.

“Never, Mon coeur, I never thought you were annoying. Why are you asking? Did something happen with Rebecca again?” Charles asked.

“I’m telling you, she doesn’t like me. She keeps making faces when I’m cheering. Like sorry for being excited that my boyfriend moved up from being a driver at risk, I like F1, I was practically raised with the sport, and she even judged me for wearing your merch.” Y/N said pouting, Charles felt bad, her first race weekend should have been a great experience.

“Don’t pay mind to her, Mon coeur. Tomorrow is the race, I hope to place on the podium, and hopefully I’ll get to see you in Ferrari merch.” Charles said.

“Yeah.” Y/N said.

It was race day! Sadly, instead of wearing her Ferrari merch, she wore the fifth outfit to try to fit it with Rebecca. Charles saw her doing her hair, kinda disappointed that she wasn’t wearing Ferrari.

“I thought that outfit was for dinner.” Charles said.

“Well this way we could go to dinner right after the race.” Y/N said, Charles still looked at her. “I know what you’re thinking, muñeco.”

“You don’t have to change, you know.” Charles said. “You won’t really see her much next season. If you’re coming to more races, I mean.”

“I know, but I just wanna see if she’ll treat me a little better.” Y/N said, however, Rebecca stayed the same. Both were in the hospitality watching the race, Y/N was pacing because, surprise surprise, Charles had engine trouble.

“Y/N, stop pacing, geez.” Rebecca said and Y/N stopped and looked at her.

“I have had it with you. I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I am done with your judge faces. You don’t want to hear me or someone else talk about the race or express excitement when my boyfriend or someone else’s favorite driver is doing well, then don’t come to races.” Y/N expressed. Rebecca looked shocked.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Rebecca said.

“Good, now hopefully Charles will move up from P7 to podium at least.” Y/N said. She expressed emotion as she usually does and not a single reaction from Rebecca, so much better than before. Charles got P2, Y/N went to the podium celebration, and once Charles got down from the podium, he kissed Y/N, champagne flavored kisses, of course. “So proud of you, muñeco.”

“Yeah? You watched everything?” Charles asked.

“Of course, your best race yet.” Y/N said, they kissed again and went to the drivers room.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! So I’m thinking for Just An Inchident, which if you don’t know, will be an F1 Band AU

I won’t be using Y/N BUT you’ll get your own nickname so you could read for either members of the band (Carlos, Charles, Lando, Lewis, and George/Max). Comment which nickname should be for which band member and that nickname would be strictly used by them ONLY

[destinationtoast]

Toastystats: Halloween fanworks!

So the thing is, I get to Blaze one post per month by virtue of having Tumblr Premium. And (while I have enjoyed Blazing pictures of my cats in the past) I thought perhaps this month people might enjoy some Halloween fandom stats + fic lists? So I threw something together. First, the stats:

Less that 1% of AO3 fanworks use the "Halloween" tag (or a subtag like "Happy Halloween" -- only 0.32%, in fact. But I found some big fandoms (10K+ works) that use a substantially higher-than-average rate of Halloweenery. (I couldn't look through every fandom on AO3, but I did look through all the fandoms with 10K+ fanworks as of January 2024. Note that some fandoms may write about Halloween a bunch without tagging it, and those aren't be captured here.)

Fall Out Boy leads the pack among these big fandoms, with nearly 1% of its fanworks using the "Halloween" tag or a subtag (0.93%). (I'd be curious to hear theories about why!) Some of the other fandoms shown above have a natural element of spookiness or horror (e.g., IT, Stranger Things), but many do not. The longer list is here. (These stats are based on pretty small numbers, btw, so please don't take these rankings too seriously. This is just a bit of fun.)

I also thought people might want to read some Halloween-themed fics from each of the above top 25 fandoms, so I highlighted works from each fandom that were complete and highly kudosed. If you're curious, the list includes this sort of info:

And I thought people might also appreciate Halloween-themed fics for different relationship categories (F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, xReader). Here's a screenshot of some of the fics in the relationship category list, if you're curious:

More information about how I created these lists below the cut.

Before we get there, could I interest you in taking a quick poll, since I am Blazing this post and curious about the audience Blaze reaches? Thanks -- and happy Halloween season! :)

The construction of these lists was definitely not an exact science. For each fandom or relationship category, I filtered to only show works with the "Halloween" tag. I then looked for complete fics in each fandom that appeared to actually be about Halloween or a spooky topic (based on their summary and/or a quick text search), and had a lot of kudos. (I didn't actually read these fanworks myself, though.) I also tried to diversify and make sure that each category included a variety of ships/fandoms. I ruled out collections of one-shots and things that appeared to be part of a long series such that they couldn't be read as a standalone. I also ruled out things that looked like incredible bummers, and honestly a few things that had major grammatical errors in the summaries.

But I linked to more in each case, so you don't have to visit the example fics I highlighted -- you can explore more on your own!

Also -- I did a lot of copy/pasting, and there may be errors in here. Feel free to let me know if you find any. Thanks, and enjoy!

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Beast Wants to Tempt the Little Rabbit (Matias vs Clavis)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Matias End

(If that's the case, I'll keep things civil.)

Emma: "Then I'll take you up on that offer, Prince Matias."

Matias: "Of course. Since I'm taking your time, I swear to do my best."

(Whoa, the charm radiating from his smile is overwhelming.)

Clavis: "Emma, you made the wrong choice."

Emma: "Your gratitude kinda freaked me out."

Clavis: "And how can you be sure Matias's gratitude won't freak you out?"

Clavis: "Listen, I established the Lelouch family motto for your sake."

Clavis: "Matias's gratitude is torture."

Emma: "That's rude, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "Rude? Those in the know all agree on this."

Matias: "You always say things like that whenever I try to show my gratitude. I don't understand."

Clavis: "It's me who doesn't understand."

(Clavis is oddly insistent. But is Matias' way of showing gratitude really that weird?)

Matias: "Then, Miss Emma, as a start, let me give you this."

Emma: "..........."

Clavis: "See? This is what happens when you question my good intentions. You better take this to heart, okay?"

The place I chose upon Matias’ request was a cafe in a calm and quiet area of town.

It might not have been a suitable place to take a prince, but Matias didn’t seem to mind and whispered something to one of the guards without any concern.

A few minutes later, he placed a thick book on the table.

It was the law book I had only seen once before in the castle.

Emma: “Is this the law book of Rhodolite?”

Matias: “You have a keen eye. You really are talented.”

Emma: “I studied politics in the past.”

(I never thought I’d see a law book in a cafe.)

Matias: “Excellent. You seem like someone worth teaching.”

Emma: “Teaching?”

Matias: “As a token of my gratitude, I will give you a lecture.”

(!?)

Matias: “Laws are the rules of a country. However, the majority of the citizens are not familiar with them.”

Matias: “Aside from typical offenses like murder, theft, fraud, and disrespect, many people don’t know much about it.”

Matias: “Ignorance of the law might result in you accidentally breaking it and dealing with the consequences.”

Matias: “Furthermore, being familiar with it can protect you from being exploited when facing any form of harm.”

Matias: “Knowing the law is synonymous with protecting oneself.”

(I never considered this before.)

His words made perfect sense, and I found myself nodding along.

Clavis: “Emma, don’t fall for it. Lectures as a form of gratitude? If I did that, you’d complain it's harassment.”

Emma: "I won't complain. I actually enjoy learning new things."

Emma: "He's willing to teach me out of kindness, so I'll take it seriously."

Beside Clavis, who was holding his head in disbelief, Matias also widened his eyes in surprise.

(Why?)

Matias: "This is a first."

Matias: “You’re the first woman to accept my gratitude head-on.”

His smile exuded a melting sensuality.

(His charm is just too much!)

In fact, the women seated nearby were all blushing.

The occasional release of his dangerous charm seemed like it could kill someone.

(I guess hanging out with charming princes like Clavis, Nokto, Jin, and Leon made me develop some kind of tolerance.)

Clavis: “Have you ever wondered why women other than Emma don’t accept your gratitude?”

Matias: “They all said they weren’t interested in law.”

Clavis: “It’s good that you know the reason, but unfortunately, it’s too late now.”

Clavis: “Emma, you’re a rare woman, so I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Emma: “Prince Clavis, where are you going?”

Clavis: “I just remembered something urgent. I’ll pick you up when it’s over.”

Clavis: “I’m counting on you to entertain Matias. Ahahaha!”

(He’s making a run for it.)

Realizing the lecture was boring, Clavis made his escape.

Matias: "I knew this would happen. Clavis hasn't changed much since our school days."

Matias: "Whenever I try to offer my gratitude, he always tries to escape using all sorts of tricks."

Emma: "Did you and Prince Clavis attend the same school?"

Matias: "Yeah. There is a prestigious boarding school in Acroite where nobles from various countries gather."

Matias: "Some of the princes of Rhodolite studied there for a while."

Matias: "Clavis is one of them. I learned a lot of things from him."

Emma: "I had no idea. So, you became friends at school?"

Matias: "That's right. I used to talk a lot with Clavis and Jin."

Matias: "There was a saying back then that Jin was for the chest, Clavis for the thighs, and Matias for the hips."

Emma: "I-I see."

(It probably means Jin likes breasts, and Clavis likes legs.)

(So I guess Matias likes hips?)

I've heard Jin and Clavis talk about women's bodies a few times when we were at the castle, so maybe Matias was also part of that during their student days.

(I'm surprised. He seems far from being a pervert just by his appearance.)

???: "Kyaah!"

As we chatted, we heard a woman scream in the restaurant's doorway.

Before I could grasp the situation, Matias had already sprung into action, vaulting effortlessly over nearby tables and dashing out of the shop.

By the time I got up from my seat, he had already grabbed and twisted the man's hand outside the restaurant.

(He's fast!)

I hurriedly followed him outside.

Man: "Let go of me!"

The man, restrained by Matias, struggled with all his might.

However, Matias' hold remained firm.

He pressed the man against the nearby wall and grabbed him, securing his hand behind his back.

(He seems quite skilled at this.)

Matias: "I saw you dine and dash."

Matias: "While this act doesn't directly correspond to any specific crime in Rhodolite, consuming food or drink without intending to pay constitutes a clear case of fraud."

Matias: "Moreover, pushing aside a woman nearby during your escape could also be considered assault."

Matias: "Therefore, you're guilty. You better cooperate."

(Prince Matias?)

The person who was smiling just a few minutes ago was nowhere to be found.

Instead, his eyes—as cold and icy as snow—pierced sharply through the guilty man.

Even the surrounding onlookers seemed intimidated, showing signs of fear in response to his overwhelming presence.

(He's like a completely different person.)

(The way he looks at criminals and the way he looks at those who aren't are totally different.)

Man: "I had no choice! I was injured, lost my job, and had nothing left to eat."

Man: "If I didn't do this, I would've died."

Matias: "A crime is a crime. Your excuses hold no meaning."

Matias: "If you still wish to make excuses, do so in court."

Matias: "Whatever the reason, the law is something that must never be broken."

Matias: "Criminals have no right to beg for mercy."

(I'm trembling.)

As I clenched my fingertips, our eyes met.

Matias: "You, go get the nearest soldier."

Emma: "U-Understood!"

Coming back to my senses, I quickly left the scene.

Everything Matias said was logical. But for some reason, that logic seemed to stick in my mind.

(What is it that's bothering me?)

Matias: "We had an unexpected interruption, but now we can finally continue."

As we moved from the cafe to another shop, he once again presented the law book to me.

The man who committed the crime continued to plead for mercy even as the soldiers took him away.

It was a sight I couldn't forget.

(Prince Matias remained completely unfazed.)

Shifting my gaze from the law book to Prince Matias, I noticed he no longer wore that cold expression.

The sincere and earnest prince was now offering a lecture solely for my benefit.

(The stark contrast to who he was before caught me off guard.)

(I never imagined he could be so ruthless.)

(I'm not sure who he really is anymore.)

Matias: "Miss Emma."

Emma: "Yes?"

Pulled from the sea of my thoughts, I found him leaning forward, his hand resting gently on my forehead.

Matias: "You seem a bit distracted. You don't seem to have a fever, but if you're feeling unwell, please tell me."

Emma: "No, it's not that!"

(Crap, I spaced out. I need to focus.)

Matias: "Then is there some other reason?"

Emma: "Well..."

Emma: "It's a Rhodolite rule! You have to set aside some time to space out once a day!"

Matias: "I apologize for not being aware of such a rule. I've interfered."

(I ended up making an excuse like Clavis.)

Guilt weighed heavily on my heart.

Matias: "However, this poses a problem."

Matias: "If it's a rule, then I suppose you'll have to endure it for a little longer."

(Huh?)

As I tilted my head in confusion, Matias' face, enveloped in his enticing allure, gradually inched closer.

(What!?)

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Matias End ╎ Epilogue

[weirdsht]

Flowerbed Full of Thorns - LoTCF & Reader

notes: this baby right here is the reason i asked for fluff reqs, it's been rotting in my notes for a few months so why not bring it to life. also pulled out my 1st year psych notes for this

tags: don't look too hard at the background or else you'll countless of plotholes, no gender specified, kinda vague earth spoilers major character death, nothing but angst

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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There are five known stages of grief. These stages are usually experienced by people who know they are dying. A coping mechanism brought upon the knowledge of their eternal rest.

However, it can also be experienced by people grieving another person’s death. A way for the living to slowly take in the news that they will never be with those loved ones in their lifetime ever again.

Which was why you knew you were already in the stages of grief when you tried to convince Kim Rok Soo to not go. To let others handle it.

To let you handle it.

“Let me do it. You will die if you take on that monster even if you can somewhat predict its movements and weakness.”

You desperately tried to convince your team leader.

“I’ll handle it better so let’s exchange positions okay? I’ll be in the vanguard.”

Bargaining

Defeating this monster will put an end to the apocalypse. Will put an end to the monsters roaming around the earth. 

But still.

Still, you try to bargain to not let Kim Rok Soo handle it despite knowing he has the biggest chance of defeating that thing.

Because you know that he will die.

And the two of you have lost so much already, how dare he leave you too?

“Rok Soo…”

Please…

Please listen.

Please don’t go.

Where would you go when Kim Rok Soo is gone?

What would you do when the last of your brother is dead?

You’ve already lost Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo. You can’t lose him too.

“I’ll do everything. I’ll do all your paperwork. I’ll let you slack off forever. Just please…”

Kim Rok Soo looked at you. It hurts his heart to leave you alone. He knows what it feels like to be abandoned. Be left alone.

But he cannot grant your wishes.

“I have to do this. If we defeat it your future will be bright. You won’t need to risk your life every day on the battlefield.”

That’s not what you want. Despite the monsters being gone there’s no way your future will be bright. How could it be? You’ve never had a family, and when you did two of them died.

And now the last one of your family is dying too.

Despite your pleas and tears, your team leader did not change his mind. He still chose to be at the vanguard of the operation. He was still the one who put an end to the cataclysm.

Kim Rok Soo died as a hero.

But you didn’t care. You didn’t care that he did it for your future. You didn’t care how everyone was singing praises of his name.

You just want your brother back.

Despite the name being “stages of grief” every human experiences it differently. Everyone has their version of grief. The first stage for some might be the last stage for another. It is also not linear. Some might revert to another stage before fully healing.

Some people’s emotions might be stronger than others.

“LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON’T CARE IF IT WAS HIS WILL!”

You shouted at the two people in front of your door. It’s been a week after the funeral for the people who have lost their lives bringing Korea– no Earth back to how it previously was. A week since everyone started adjusting to a world without monsters.

A week since you’ve been abandoned.

“Come on, the team leader told us to take care of you.”

Kim Min Ah tried to convince you to open the door, but you didn’t budge.

“I don’t care! Why should I listen to a dead man’s words!”

Anger

Both Kim Min Ah and Jung So Hoon knew that you were in despair. Which was why they were patient with you. You may have pulled yourself together at the funeral. Managed to say your piece with a calm demeanour. May have looked like the most composed being at the time. 

However, there’s no denying that you’re hurting.

Under all those exterior you put up, you’re just someone grieving.

And now those walls are cracking. Letting them have a look at just how much of a mess you are inside.

It has been a week since the funeral. During that week you have been staying at Kim Rok Soo’s apartment. You practically lived there anyway. Know the layout of the place like the back of your hands. Can navigate where everything is stashed away with your eyes closed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us?”

“Positive.”

What would you even do if you go with them? They both have families. Have people to care for and people that will care for them.

While you have nothing.

At least not anymore.

Hence your venomous answer that was paired with the door closing shut. You hear the two talk for a good minute before leaving you.

You expect them to be back in two days’ time. It was routine by now.

“I’m tired of this.”

You mumbled to yourself as you thought about those two coming back in two days. You don’t want the same routine again.

Which was why you started packing.

You packed your things as well as Kim Rok Soo’s. You also brought Lee Soo Hyuk’s and Choi Jung Soo’s stashed away things with you.

It wasn’t much. All three men didn’t have many things with them. You have also only brought your clothes and memorabilia of the three of you.

With that, you left Kim Rok Soo’s empty apartment in the middle of the night.

Rejecting the idea that someone has died is normal. Especially when this someone meant the whole world to the person. It’s natural to not want to acknowledge the fact that they will never be with those loved ones again. Never to greet them good morning. Never to annoy them ever again.

Hence why some choose to avoid reality. Some people choose to live in their memories. Because there, that person will always be alive and waiting for them.

Some even go as far as to avoid the people trying to bring them back to reality. Run away from the rational voices who only want the best for them.

Nonetheless, not everyone who runs away is rejecting the notion that they have lost their loved ones. Sometimes they would just want to get away from others. Cope in their own way, away from everyone’s judgemental gaze.

Denial and Isolation

Gyeongnam

Choi Jung Soo’s hometown and your destination. You already bought the land and the mountain with it a few days ago. Construction for a new house, farm, and orchard has also started. Originally, you were planning on going there after everything was done.

But you don’t want to be in the city anymore.

You just want to settle in a quiet place where you can always think of your brothers.

So in the meantime, you stayed in a nearby hotel. Then paid for more workers so the construction of everything goes faster. All of that didn’t even put a dent in your pocket. How could it when all three Soos have left everything they own to you?

Well, originally Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk have said in their will that you and Kim Rok Soo are to split everything. But then Kim Rok Soo also died. In his will, he has stated that he wants everything he has accumulated to be given to you.

Kim Rok Soo’s “retirement fund” was enough to cover you for 3 lifetimes already. It made you wonder more why the hell that man was so cheap when it came to himself when he had so much cash.

But you can’t ask him anymore so you opted to just sit and wait in your hotel room.

Thank god for ability users. Thanks to them your new house was built faster, approximately only taking a month. You can finally move in and get out of that stuffy hotel room. The food was great but you’d much rather eat home-cooked food.

Preferably Kim Rok Soo’s cooking.

You dismiss the thought in your head as you unpack the things you have brought with you. This has already been your 4th mental breakdown of the week. You can’t have anymore, it keeps hindering your task of decorating the new house.

It was a simple house. Two floors and five bedrooms complete with a basement and an attic. The first floor contained the living room, kitchen, dining room, and even a recreation room. Upstairs were mostly bedrooms.

Four bedrooms and one office area.

No one needs to ask why you had that many bedrooms when you’re living alone.

You decorated each room similarly to how each one of them decorated their apartments. It was hard to do, just the mere sight of their belonging was enough to make you spiral sometimes. However, you still did it. Determined to make your brother’s retirement dreams come true.

One good thing did come out of it though.

Through living alone and doing the activities the Soos wanted to do, you finally took in the news that they were dead.

They were gone.

None of them are coming.

Acceptance

Just now are you accepting the fact that none of them will see the efforts you’ve made. They won’t be there to compliment you for making their passing talk come true. Won’t be there to complain about how you spent a good chunk of their savings on room service.

You were alone.

Oh god

You were alone and lonely.

At first, it made you spiteful. Why did the universe give you a sense of salvation? Why did it pull you out of your loneliness? And for what? Just for them to take it all back?

You hated it.

But that hate didn’t last long. Because above all else you still felt grateful.

Grateful that you met them. Grateful that you became part of their family. It may have been a short while, but that short while was the happiest of your life.

Hence why you continue doing what you intended to do in Gyeongnam.

You continued taking care of the orchard. Farming fruits and vegetables. Not forgetting to slack off once in a while. 

The last one was a requirement.

Kim Rok Soo is going to bite your head off if you don’t slack off in his stead.

At first, everything seemed fine. It looked as if things were looking up for you as you finally reached acceptance.

However, no recovery is linear. That simply is not possible. One is bound to stumble and fall back as they are learning to walk on their own feet.

That was why as days passed you could feel the sadness accumulate. Every morning you wake up in tears. At random times during the day, waterworks start.

In each step you take you feel the anguish. As though you are carrying the weight of the world and it keeps getting heavier.

Surprisingly, you didn’t just sit in one corner and cry like how the movies portrayed it. You continued doing your daily routine.

You don’t know if it’s stubbornness or perseverance but you’ll take it.

Deep sorrow consumed your entire being. It eats you alive every waking day as you accept how you don’t have a family anymore.

Depression

That was the conclusion you have come to one day.

You were fighting with yourself and you were losing that battle.

A battle harder than any monsters you’ve faced.

A battle you aren’t sure you can survive.

Perhaps that was why the gods took pity on you. Maybe they looked down on you and realised just how hard they made your life. Dawning on them how you essentially have everything yet nothing.

Maybe that was why you suddenly heard god’s voice in your head one day. Speaking to you with pity, as if he didn’t mean for you to fall into this state. To fall so hard at rock bottom.

[Do you want to be granted a chance to see some of them again?]

[ellzilla]

Had a hell of a time trying to upload this lmao. Doodles to accompany a ramble about my silly horrorverse/metathesiophobia/worldbuilding ramble that's very large so it's under the cut. It's as much Ella lore as it is Elliot lore :3c there might be some grammatical errors but idc I've tried to upload this 7 times now and don't wanna reread it lol

"Most organizations classify them as extinct, caused by villages hunting them and a lethal mutation in the survivors saliva, there are theories there are a few hidden surviving members, their numbers being merely in the single digits. Lycanthropy is not a 'one size fits all' type of curse/disease/parasite, it's classification is still being debated today, and it adjusted both according to it's host and to it's surroundings when it developed.

Before the lethal mutation, an infected person's lycanthropy could vary extremely in the first few months as it got a grasp on what was a normal environment for the individual. All recorded cases fit the 'true' werewolf classification. For people who gained Lycanthropy through genetics, bloodline werewolves, a vast majority were only slight variations of the 'true' werewolf.

-

The 'true' werewolf was most rampant back in the medieval ages, up until the mid 1800's, as to the Lycanthropy it was the peak time one could live 'naturally' and also a lack of constant danger while also having a sense of community. Although they were still bloodthirsty monsters, they held themselves back from ravaging people their host knew and hunted only strangers, even avoiding children if the host's morals were strong enough. They only hunted what they needed for the night, a person or two at most. True werewolves had very mild control of their curse, only being able to transform on command in dangerous situations. These transformations were relatively quick, taking less than 20 seconds, but remained agonizing as let the host take control until they were able to calm down in a safe area.

Sometimes an extreme burst of negative emotion could make part of their body rapidly transform to physically deal with the source of the stress, but it would result in the skin tearing due to the speed of it. Lycanthropy will only rip itself apart when it senses an emergency, a knee-jerk reaction if you will, to something in front of it. The last recording of a 'true' werewolf was in 20██, █████, Australia, however she had been found dead in her home. The cause of death was blood loss, caused by a silver laced bullet wound. For details about this report, please send a request to Dr. A. Whitelock.

-

Socialite werewolves are an extremely modern and elusive mutation of Lycanthropy. They are the sole reason the theory lycanthropes could still be alive today holds any water. Unlike 'true' werewolves, who could be anyone, all Socialite werewolves have been people who have lived in lavish luxury for the important developmental years in a bloodline werewolf's life. They are physically the weakest recorded mutation. The main theory for this is that the Lycanthropy adapted to learn that social power among regular humans is far more valuable for survival than hunting them for sport and changed to make transformation less intensive and more 'suitable' for it's new survival strategy. They were able to transform in around ten seconds on average, one recorded process shows them morphing with little to no pain visible on their face. The host confirmed that the Socialite werewolf's transformation is far less painful by saying: "A muscle cramp is only a touch more painful." This has enabled the few recorded individuals to amass groups around themselves, as they all publicized their lycanthropy. Most simply saw them as role-players with good 'fur suits' due to the fact the host's hair style remains unchanged while turned.

The last recorded socialite werewolf was in 19██, a popular rock star who had unfortunately overdosed on theobromine, the news had covered it as a 'normal' drug overdose and were forced forge it as a cocaine OD.

-

Brute werewolves are a debated topic, as some think we should classify them as Werebears instead, but all recovered remains confirm that their bone structure was far closer to a wolf than a bear's.

They are also debated to be a separate anomaly all together as they were initially thought to be a prehistoric megafauna before the bones were carbon dated to be only a few hundred years old. The term 'werewolf' was only applied to these bones upon the recovery of a library curated by a 'true' werewolf back in 1874.

According to literature in the library that claims to be history, Brute werewolves were thought to be lycans who had gone mad or were born to an accursed mother. Additional notes glued to the book claimed that they were simply those in the bloodline who had been tormented for a prolonged period of time, through they admit the 'cursed mother' could be part of it. Brute werewolves were described to be barbaric, rabid beasts that would rip apart anything with a heartbeat in front of them, only being satisfied when it had gorged itself on fresh meat and then some. There are drawings of Brute werewolves fighting packs of 'true' werewolves and descriptions of Brute werewolves being the cause of many deaths.

Despite the descriptions diminishing them as low intelligence beasts, they were said to speak in wails, attracting anyone to try to help the supposed person in danger, unknowing that they were the person in danger themselves.

Their transformations were said to be horrific as bone popped skin that ripped off muscle, their size was far to large to properly form from a regular human body. It is described to be a 'painfully long' process, so we assume it took over a minute for them to fully transform.

There has never been a case of an alive Brute werewolf, let alone a fresh corpse. We believe that if they are truly a mutation of Lycanthropy, they were the fist subsect to go extinct due to their heightened aggression that would have made it impossible to survive within the past 200 years. We hope that is the case."

7- █ - 202█ - Author Dr. Abigail Whitelock. Sources - ██████ - ██████████ -██████

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

HOW TO WRITE A FINAL DRAFT

(From Someone Who’s Been Working on the Same Book for Over Ten Years)

Listen, I know what you might be thinking: “why the hell would I want advice on how to work on my final draft from someone who can’t even get her shit together for her own book?”

However, because I’ve had to re-draft my own novel so many times (Primarily due to poor outlining, lack of time and inspiration, and my own insecurities as a writer), I’ve learned a lot over the years on when to know if your book is done (or not!) and how to keep motivated. 

Just a disclaimer that these are my own tips and tricks that you may not agree with, and that everyone’s writing process is different! Don’t feel pressured to do things my way if you feel like it doesn’t work for you as a writer; everyone’s experience varies, and there are always exceptions!

1. Know If You’re Ready to Start a Final Draft

Some vocabulary for writers to know:

Content editing is a form of editing that revises the overall style, substance, and content of a story. Copyediting is a form of editing that revises grammatical, spelling, readability, continuity, and factual errors within a story.

A way I would know if I’m ready to make a final draft is if I am no longer doing major content editing on the book. This means I am no longer making major changes to the plot, characters, setting, and other facets of the book. There isn’t any re-writing of entire scenes, or major plot holes that require an overhauling of the entire book.

You know you’re ready for a Final Draft if your primary concerns are copyediting. 

Of course, with copyediting errors such as continuity, there will inevitably be some re-writing required, but I personally would not want to start a “final draft” at a stage where the book’s major plot points must be constantly changed during the editing process. 

This varies so much, from writer to writer; so my best advice is to start your final draft when you think you’re ready!

2. Consider Getting Some Beta Readers

Again, this is an incredibly complex process; some people like to have beta readers on their earlier drafts, while others like to have beta readers for their later drafts.

A beta reader is someone who reads a work of fiction before it is published in order to mark errors and suggest improvements, typically without receiving payment (although it’s nice to swap stories and beta read for each other!) You can find people willing to be beta readers all over, especially on tumblr!

Having a round of beta readers is a great opportunity to have unbiased eyes on your work, and to have people pointing out plot holes and inconsistencies that maybe you hadn’t noticed! It also gives you a much-needed break from writing your story, and helps you come back to it with fresh eyes once everyone is done.

I personally am waiting to finish my current rewrite before having a round of beta readers, and after they look it over, doing a draft of my own editing before moving on to a final draft.

(Things don’t work out the way you think they will, though—that’s life! Take as long or as little time as you need!)

3. Consider Taking a Break

In my opinion, the best way to start editing a final draft is doing so with fresh eyes. After finishing your second-to-last draft, shelf your project for a few weeks (or maybe a few months!) and move on to another work. Then, you can come back to your story as if you were a new reader, and catch mistakes that you may have missed if you were still in the groove of writing!

This can sometimes be dangerous for writers who struggle with inspiration and getting back into things, though, so do whatever works best for you!

4. Tips to Keep Inspired

How to Overcome Writer’s Block

How to Write Consistently

Writer’s block and lack of inspiration will be your greatest enemies on your final draft! Oftentimes, people lose steam once they see the finish line is ahead. Check out the tips in the above post to help keep you on task!

5. Learn How to Stop Editing: It Will NEVER be Perfect

You are your own worst critic. You will always find something to tweak every single time you comb through your own writing; hell, even published authors sometimes read their own books and think of ways they could’ve improved certain sentences or scenes! Understand that “Final Draft” does not mean “Devoid of Flaws.”

Sometimes, the best thing you can do for your book is to know when you need to stop overworking it and send it out to the world. Writers who struggle with liking their writing can find this especially difficult, which is why it can be helpful to have beta readers or a writing buddy who can put their foot down and say: it’s done! You’re ready!

Hope this helped, and happy writing! I believe in you!

[skwhluvr]

kim taerae as your boyfriend | headcanons

❀ paring: kim taerae x gn!reader 

❀ warnings; pure fluff, i call him a loser bf, lowercase, kind of proof read. i think thats it ?!

❀ a/n : this is my first time posting 😓 bit scared. apologize for any grammatical errors. exams are around the corner and i do this instead of studying. lowkey a self insert?? but enjoy it !! 🤍++ was listening to double take by dhruv writing this. sets the mood well !

taerae your cutie pookie boyfriend ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

he’s a math major or something close to mathematics, something like engineering.

actually I see him do economics (maybe because i wanna do it)

minor in psychology just because I said so. because of his curiosity, though he might drop it later realizing it's not for him

bf!taerae will remember to bring you either a snack or coffee or a drink to help you get through your morning because let's be real most of arent really a morning person

he would be gamer bf too. so sometimes you might find yourself competing for his attention with a game. not to worry tho he would cuddle with you and give you unlimited amount of kisses!! :D

he would love to have study dates !! it doesn’t matter what you’re studying. he will make sure to at least have one date where you but just study.

gives him a chance to admire your focused look and snap some cute pictures, which he can look back and smile giggle at loser bf taerae all the way ☝️

I see him sending you good luck texts before exams. reminders on to eat or get enough sleep.

he would leave some kinda snack or nuts on your table while you study for your exams. because thats something your mom did for you all the time. #asiancoded

he would wait for you after your exam and give you a hug the moment you see him saying you did well. you do the same for him. 

if your exams clash y’all meet up later on the day and discuss about how the exam went and do some kinda stress relieving activity like watching a movie or "attempt" (keyword attempt) bake something 

on the last exam you have he would surely be waiting for you with some kinda sweet or drink that you love with a cute note saying you did well !

HE IS SO AFFECTIONATE YOU FEEL LIKE YOURE NEXT TO A PUPPY !!! <33 ALSO SOMETIMES HES SO ADORABLE YOU HIDE THE URGE TO EAT HIM ‼️🤍🤍

he would welcome you everyday like he hasn't seen you for ages (even if it's just been 10 mins).

i feel like his love language is quality time and act of service with with a sprinkle of physical touch !

when you're with his friends, he'll naturally have his arms around you. not in a possessive way, rather because its comfortable. his friends loved you and prefers you over him. dont tell him that tho 

playful fights with junhyeon on who should get more affection. honestly youre a junrae in secret but taerae doesn't need to know that. youre so happy that he has someone he can be that close with !!

what else from zb1 i feel like you will be close with matt , ricky and gyuvin maybe gunwook too? the moment you see yujin you'll adopted him without a second thought you'd even fight the zb1 boy's for his custody.

guitar classes everyday ! it’s sometimes educational, other times he'll play your favorite songs for you. he just loves to flex his guitar skills.

you enjoy it as much because you see his cute smile, more bonding time and you also get to take cute picture of him or videos. 

this is so domestic im feeling single.

he would send you a random cafe or restaurant he sees, suggesting to go there and try to it. later on both of you will rate the food, the service and the aesthetics and decide if it’s worth to go again.

 he would have some thing you've given him or a remind of you in his car or wallet or phone so there is piece you with him always <\3

in conclusion i want a bf like taerae <\3

[asshlyyyy]

Fairytale

Series Warnings: Language, fake relationship, lying, drinking, major depressive disorder, mommy issues. Mentions of occasionally sexual interactions/ wording. Maybe eventual smut. Individual chapter warnings will appear as needed. Spelling and Grammatical errors like always.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter 9: Drunken Truth

“You're not gonna party too hard right?” Austin asked as he watched you get ready.

“My job is to make sure that the bride, aka my sister, has the time of her life and gets home safely.” You answered him. 

“So you aren’t going to have any fun?” You let out a sigh and looked at Austin in the mirror. Your idea of fun was far from partying at a club. Your fun was staying home and laying in bed. 

“This is already pushing outside my comfort zone, I just… I’ll sit there awkwardly and smile.” You pushed a smile out. Austin stood up and came over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and kissed your head. 

“I wish I could come.” He said softly. 

“Unless you decide to dress up like a sexy firefighter, there’s no use.” You said as you continued to put on your makeup. Of course, you were joking about this. Not only would it raise a huge red flag in your relationship, but you also didn’t want that. 

“Well-“ You started to shake your head before he could finish his sentence. 

“No, absolutely not. I’m not having those girls throw themselves at you.” Your reaction brought an amused look to Austin’s face.

“Why? Would you be jealous?” He smirked. You rolled your eyes and got up. 

“Well for starters, you are not a stripper. Second off, I already paid the strippers. Third off, I don’t want you to.” You walked over to your heels to put them on. 

“Look, just try and have a little bit of fun okay? If you girls need a ride, I’ll come pick you up.” He offered. You smiled softly and looked at him.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Austin let out a light chuckle. He found it funny that you would thank him. You guys have been doing this for roughly over three, or maybe it was four, months now. The big day was closing in. 

“But I do. You are doing so much for me and… there’s nothing I can do to show how much I appreciate everything.” You explained. Austin made his way over to you and cupped your face.

“You being next to me is enough,” he leaned down and kissed you. You cherished this moment and made sure it was embedded into your mind. You were going to need it for tonight. 

“I’ll text you okay? I’ll drive to my sisters and then we’re going to get into an Uber.”

“Keep me posted, I’ll be… here. Might snoop around for some juicy secrets but.” You rolled your eyes at his comment and picked up your purse. You gave him a short smile and you were on your way. 

Once you got into the car and started it, you made your way over to her sisters. You didn’t listen to any music, you just sat there silently. Mostly because it wasn’t too long of a drive, you would’ve been there in a few minutes anyway. 

You went up to her door and rang the doorbell. The door quickly opened and your sister’s face lit up. You two were honestly so close, well… not close enough to tell her your lie. You just didn’t want to disappoint her. You didn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

“Hey bride, are you ready for the best day of your life?” You smiled. 

“Of course, but I need help with my dress first.” You nodded and closed the door behind yourself. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked confused.

“I need to zip up.” She said and turned around. You zipped up her dress easily and smoothed out the wrinkles.

“All done. You're ready to go.” You said and walked around her so that you could look her in the face. 

“Perfect!”

“I’ll go order the Uber then. Our time frame at the bar starts soon.” You explained as you pulled out your phone. 

“Oh! That reminds me, we have some new guests coming along.” Amelia spoke up. You looked up from your phone confused. 

“What do you mean? It’s supposed to only be the bridal party.” You mentioned the original plans.

“I know… It’s just some of my friends really wanted to come, and I wanted to have them there as well.” She said with a big smile. You let out a sigh and shook your head. You couldn’t deny her. She already made the adjustments, you just had to go along with it. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After being out for a couple of hours or so, you were just about over the evening. You had some fun with Amelia, but after she got into the bar… she went straight to her friends. They were the ones enjoying the music, singing karaoke, dancing, and throwing money at the strippers. 

You made your way over to the bar, “Give me the strongest thing you have please,” you sighed as you sat down at the bar. 

“One sazerac coming up,” the bartender responded as he started to make your drink. You placed your little wristlet onto the bar and tapped your finger against the counter. You tried to tune out the loud sounds of girls screaming. 

“I’m guessing you’re with the bachelorette party?” He asked as he placed the glass down in front of you. You gave him a smile as a thank you and nodded. 

“Yeah, my sister is actually the bride.” You said as you picked up the glass. You looked at the brown liquid and brought the glass to your lips. You cringed at the taste and scrunched up your face. Now that was some strong… alcohol. 

“Never had someone buy out the whole bar before. Then again, you got twenty… almost thirty people here.” He pointed out. 

“It was supposed to be just the bridal party,” you mumbled lightly and took another drink, “I planned for… five… maybe six people. Not this much.”

“You seem to have… more on your mind than that party.”

You let out a sigh and shook your head, “I’ll just say this… Never lie. Because then… that lie will eat you away.” You finished up the last of your drink. 

“That bad huh?” He urged you to go on as he wiped down some of the wet glasses. 

“It’s worse, but I’m going to need another drink.”

“You drive a hard bargain… but deal,” the bartender smirked and started to make you another drink. He placed the drink in front of you and took away your empty one.

“It started a long time ago…” you started as you picked up the glass. “When I first moved away.” You took a sip of your drink. You turned your head to the back to make sure that your sister wouldn’t hear and turned back to the bartender.

“And how long, was a long time ago?” He questioned. 

“Well, I moved away six years ago… but the lie started four years ago.”

“Sounds like this lie has taken a toll on your life.”

“Well… it started after I got diagnosed with depression.” You stated after you finished off your second drink. “Another one please.”

“You’re gonna dry me out here, doll.” You cringed at the nickname he called you but just shook it off. You knew he was just being nice, but if he had any ideas- you could easily kick his ass.

“Well, keep ‘em coming. Especially if you want to know the story.” You tapped the empty glass. He chuckled lightly and picked up the glass.

“Well, as long as you keep me company, I’ll be fine with that.” He said with a wink. You closed your eyes and then rolled them. Was this guy really trying to hit on you right now?

“Right well… I was deeply depressed and didn’t want to go out. I wanted to stay home. So, my friends would try and get me to come out. My family… my sister… every time they came and visited. Well… I started the boyfriend lie.”

“Why not just say you’re busy?” He questioned as he placed down the glass.

“Because it wouldn’t work like that. Especially with my family. So… I played the boyfriend card.” You picked up the glass and took a long drink. The burning liquid running down your throat. Though, you didn’t feel it burning anymore. “Sorry, I’m busy with my boyfriend. Oh sorry, I got dinner with my boyfriend.”

“And how does this play into now? Four years later?”

“I got a call from my sister a couple of months ago. She was asking me to be her maid of honor. Of course, I was excited, I am excited. She’s my sister I love her very dear. I accepted and then she dropped the bomb on me. Told me that my boyfriend was the best man.”

“Hold up, isn’t the best man supposed to be someone you know?”

“Exactly! But she’s this… smart evil sister. I love her so much though. She wanted to meet my boyfriend, and she figured this would be the best idea.”

“I see…”

“So, I thought… fuck, I’m screwed. I would have to come clean, but I didn’t. I couldn’t,” you started to shake your head, drinking your drink. “So… I came up with the plan of getting a fake boyfriend.”

“A fake boyfriend?” The bartender raised his eyebrow. 

“Mhm, and I didn’t know how to do that. I looked through my contacts and I noticed most of them I used the boyfriend card on. Then my eyes fell on one contact in particular. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time. Austin Butler. My old friend.”

“Did he agree to do it?”

“Yes actually,” you chuckle lightly. “I’m honestly surprised. He basically saved me. Coming with me and agreeing to everything.”

“It’s fake?” You heard your sister's voice. You turned quickly in fear and looked at her. Was she there the whole time? No, she couldn’t have. You checked to make sure she wasn’t.

“What- No no no,” you started to shake your head. 

“I just heard you. You can’t just lie to me again. We are days away from my wedding! And you and Austin aren’t even together!?” She raised her voice. You swallowed a lump in your throat and felt yourself start to tear up. 

“It’s not like that… Amelia. Listen-”

“No, Y/n. You ruined everything… I can't believe you lied to me.” She said as she turned around, and started to head towards the door.

“Amelia, wait!” You called out to her. You let out a groan when she didn’t stop and grabbed your wristlet off the counter and went after her. “Amelia please!” You reached out for her hand. 

“Stop, Y/n!” She turned to face you, “I am not doing this. You do your maid of honor duties and nothing else. You are not my sister anymore. You lied to me for four years! You lied to everyone for four years!”

“I-I”

“Anything you say, will not be forgiven. I don’t want to see you until the wedding day.” She shook her head and walked out. 

“Amelia,” you whispered and watched as she walked away. The tears fell quickly and you fumbled to open your wristlet. It was all over… just like that. All because of that fucking bartender. 

With trembling hands, you pulled your phone out. You went up to your contacts and quickly called Austin. You were tipsy, you were crying, and not to mention your whole secret was out. You let out a sob and shook your head quickly. You needed him to pick you up. You guys obviously could no longer stay at your parent's house. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Austin asked as he answered the phone.

“Code purple, she knows. We- we- we-”

“I’ll get everything packed up, and I’ll come pick you up okay? We’ll find an apartment and go onto plan B okay? Everything will be okay,” Austin explained with a calm voice. You nodded slowly and made your way back into the building. 

“Okay… Thank you, Austin,” you whispered in response. 

“I’ll be there soon okay?”

“Okay.” You said softly. 

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Austin.” You pulled your phone away and hung up. You found yourself a seat and sat down with a sigh. You knew this was going to happen. You shouldn’t have done this. You should’ve just come clean in the first place. 

You rubbed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall. 

Sdufhsdkfjhadskjfhdsaf

“What happened?” Austin asked once you two got into the hotel room.

“I was at the bar… and and, I told him not to lie and I told him everything. I made sure she wasn’t around and- I guess she just came up and- she heard everything.”

“Come here,” he whispered and opened his arms. You frowned as you walked over to him and accepted his warm embrace. You placed your face against his chest and let the tears fall. You’ve been holding them in since you got into the car. 

“She hates me,” you whimpered through the tears.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just… hurt and confused at the moment. Give her some time.”

“She’s gonna tell my parents, and then my parents will tell the whole goddamn family and- and- and-”

“Y/n, sweetheart.” Austin rubbed your back gently, “It may have started as a lie… but we came together.” You sniffled and pulled away. You looked up from Austin’s chest and stared into his eyes. How did you deserve to have such a fantastic friend… let alone someone who wants to be in a relationship with you?

You pulled away from his body and made your way onto the bed. You crawled up till you were near the pillow and let your body collapse down. You ruined everything for your sister. All because of this stupid lie. 

“I’ll order us some room service,” Austin announced as he headed over to the desk, where the menus amongst other pamphlets were. 

You reached for your phone and went to your messages. You read over everything you sent your sister. You begged for her to listen to you. To talk to you. Anything really at this point. She didn’t read them… How could you be so stupid? How could you mess up this badly?

You sighed and went into your photos app. You smiled as your eyes landed on the various pictures you and Austin took. You scrolled up and looked at the ones that held Amelia and you. What you would do to go back and take back the boyfriend lie. It just caused pain and mayhem for you. 

You heard Austin’s voice as he ordered you guys some food. You flipped onto your back and sprawled out against the bed. You stared up at the white ceiling and blew some hair out of your face. You had to fix things. Her wedding was days away and you ruined your sistership with her. 

Even if you tried to tell her Austin and yourself were in a relationship now, she wouldn’t believe it. Let alone believe that you loved him. You just knew that this caused you a new nickname with the family. The liar. The wannabe. The… attention whore. You faked a relationship to ruin your sister's wedding. You can just hear your mother now. 

“Come on, sit up.” You looked over at Austin and whined shaking your head. “Up up.” You let out a groan as you sat up. You looked straight forward at the blank black television screen.

“Arms up.” You held your arms up and felt as your dress was being pulled off. Soon, your bra came off and a new shirt was put on you. 

The smell of his cologne engulfed your nostrils. You hummed at the scent and wrapped your arms around yourself. You plopped back onto your back once you felt his lips brush against your cheek. 

“Did you want to watch something?”

“Do they have any good movies on?” You cracked open an eye to look at him. The bed dipped beside you as Austin sat down. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV so that he could look through the channel guide. 

“Pineapple Express?” He questioned as he turned to look for your reply. You just shook your head as you stuck your tongue out a bit. It wasn’t like you didn’t like the movie. You just wanted something soft. 

“Top Gun?” You shook your head once again. Jet flying and twenty-year-olds screaming didn’t really fit into that soft vibe you were going for. He just continued to name off movies and you shook your head. 

“Forget about it… There’s nothing I want to watch.” You sighed as you curled up into a little ball. That’s when a knock erupted through the room.

“I bet that’s our food,” Austin announced as he got up to check the door. You didn’t even want to eat right now. You just wanted to cry- Austin pulled the lids off the food and the smell poured into your nose. You didn’t know what boogie hotel you were at, but you knew that the food smelled amazing.

You already knew which food was yours. The toasted warm sandwich with a batch of fresh fries. You remember going off to Austin in the car that you wanted a warm toasted sandwich. It was a weird request, but… it was your comfort food. Along with the fries of course.

You two ate your very late dinner and then got ready for bed. He didn’t force you to take a shower. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stand straight up. He figured tomorrow would be the best option. So, as you both got comfy in bed, you fell asleep in minutes.

You woke up and immediately sat up. You let out a loud verbal gasp as the sound of your finger continued to go off. You looked over at your phone and mentally swore at yourself. You know you should’ve put it on silent. Why didn’t you do that? You always make sure to do that!

You let out a sigh as reached for your phone and answered it without looking at the caller ID. You placed the phone against your ear and plopped back down into the bed. You cuddled back up to Austin and let out a very tired hello.

“Y/n, where the hell are you!” Your mother’s loud voice made you pull the phone far away from your ear. What was the time anyway? “Your sister told me everything. You better come home right this second!”

“Mom,” you let out a sigh and rubbed your face. “I just need to talk to her.”

“You are not talking to her. You’re lucky you’re still allowed to come to her wedding!” Your mother stated. You let out a breath and looked at Austin with begging eyes. He gave you a sad smile and took your phone off your hands.

“Hi, Mrs. Y/l/n, Some things were said, and Y/n would really like to be able to talk to Amelia. We’d both like to talk to her and explain.” He talked to your mother as you closed your eyes. You let out a hum and fell against his warmth.

“I understand she’s upset, and I apologize. If you could convince her to meet us at the IHOP. Please… Y/n really wants to talk and apologize about what happened.” Austin tried to reason with your mother. She would most likely agree because for some reason she loved Austin. Well, it wasn’t hard not to love him. 

“Thank you so much, Y/n and I are grateful,” Austin said with a smile. You opened your eyes and looked at him. That sounded promising. “Yes of course… Yes… I’ll tell her. Of course. Goodbye.” Austin hung up and handed you the phone. 

“So?” You urged him to share.

“Your sister will meet with us at IHOP.” He said with a smile. You let out a sigh of relief and looked at him. What did you do to deserve this man?

“Austin, thank you so much. I… I really appreciate it.” 

“Look, we’re in this together. Which means, I’ll help you through every moment.” He pointed out to you. You nodded slowly and brought your face closer to his to kiss him. He hummed against your lips and pressed his hand against your lower back, pulling you closer towards him. 

You smiled and pulled away after a bit. “We should get ready,” You stated as you rubbed your nose against his.

“Mmm, we can save time by taking a shower together?” He suggested. 

“Yes,” You pressed a short kiss to his lips and got up out of bed. Austin followed suit afterward and you both headed towards the bathroom to hop into the shower together. What happens behind closed doors… stays behind closed doors. 

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

[thedivineart]

PICK A CARD: 10 THINGS ABOUT YOUR FEBRUARY.

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⌷ .⠀⠀d i s c l a i m e r⠀⠀✿𝆬

[ 𝒜𝓇𝓉 ✧ ] any events and other things in your life are cannot be accurately predict by me and the tarot cards, do take a note that we are 'still' the creator of our 'future'- what you 'do' now will be the outcome of your future life and this could be either a good or bad, if your doing good and you are good to others expect the bright future ahead but in reverse you might expect the worst.

[ ℰ𝓂𝒾𝓈 ✧ ] to pick a pile, firstly take a good deep breath, second focus on every pile in the photo provided below { pile one, pile two, pile three }, and lastly scroll more down to reveal your reading. if you cannot still pick up any of the pile, do remember the sequence of what is written in the first sentence.

[ 𝒜𝓇𝓉ℯ𝓂𝒾𝓈 ✧ ] grammatical errors ahead, if you're a perfectionist then leave this pac. I do write with so many flaws and I know it's not perfect since my first language isn't english.

-` 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝐷𝐼𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇 ´- ✰︵ — m a s t e r l i s t ´-

: ･. ﾟ ✧. : ･. ☽˚｡ ･ﾟ ✧: ･. :.

𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗠 @𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘁𝘁

PILE ONE

• shock from something either a situation or a news

• honor or recognition from your labor ( work and study )

• death of someone or a major change; new beginning. for some, this could be an important decision that will brings change or worries and anxiety might be present too

• a news related to finances, either financial help or a loan.

• you will cut something or someone to your life, anger, loss and loneliness. seperation accompanied by pain.

• success from bussiness and love or moving away from local area or home environment to city life.

• changes in business or social situation and happy times

• letting go and releasing what is no longer serves you, moving and parting way. for some, loss by theft and will recover after difficulty.

• desires will be fulfilled; a wealth or inheritance from something or someone and a voyage specially using ships.

• a successful speculations.

PILE TWO

• loss and unhappy surprise or unexpected trouble

• change of residence for the better and could be later or sooner, a opportunity to redo something

• be careful when it comes for your health. A trip that usually over the water.

• success in business and love or signs about a successful speculations

• receiving or giving small sum of money. for some financial growth.

• desired opportunities or fulfilling your dreams. moon symbol is fortunate in your side.

• long distance journey. a gift, either materialism or time of someone, a helpful advice and a bit good news.

• do not trust someone, even though it's your family or friends, in next month possibly someone may betray you.

• a conflict, disagreement, betrayal that from a home or family.

PILE THREE

• gatherings with cheerful and gaiety moment.

• if your in relationship: marriage and rich is it or if not and single sensitive moments will may arrive

• shock from something or someone either it is bad or good

• being in a relationship if single. a return of ex-lover or broken friendship. A party and having fun. sexual contact or physical union.

• the discovery of a mystery from what affects you in this month (January).

• a new beginning or start of new phase of life. Marriage or engagement might be it is for some.

• wish fulfilment or desires being fulfill. for some, a wealth from inheritance or trade.

• financial achievement or improvement. lucky wins or lucky money.

• flattery of someone to you or having mutual feelings to someone.

• if single, fulfilment of highest aims or if not a rival in love.

[ 🪷. ] Hello! Thank You so much for checking out this pac reading, if you ever like it please do follow and reblog for more pac. Let me know what you feel by commenting down below...

© thedivineart — do not plagiarize any of my work, translate or repost it on other social media platform , do remember that this is only my official account where all my pac are posted, if you ever see something like mine from word by word kindly report it to me, thank you<3. theme is included.

[luna-rainbow]

(I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors; English is not my mother tongue.)

Hi!

I have a few questions for you and I'm fairly certain that you've probably been asked them before, so I apologize if this has been the case. I'm relatively new to fandom (only since 2020). But I keep wondering if there is some illness that Bucky could suffer from. I'm thinking of things like: E.g. stroke, aneurysm, heart attack, Alzheimer's disease or Parkinson's disease. Would there be any impact in the long term? Or does the serum prevent him from generally getting such “diseases of civilization”? Or, if he suffers from it, does the serum help him to recover where a "normal" human being wouldn't been able to? It's said in some places that Hydra didn't use the same serum that Steve got, so it might perhaps be within the realm of possibility (I mean, we're talking about non-existent things like super soldier serum) that such "side effects " may occur? I know you're not a medical professional, but I really value your opinion and in-depth knowledge of Bucky and have enjoyed reading many of your assessments of him.

Thanks for your time!

Oooh! Thanks for the fascinating question! You've actually been in the fandom longer than I have 😂 And your English is fantastic!

In TFATWS Isaiah spoke of his squad of men all dying from the effects of the serum. In the comics, Isaiah did have two major weaknesses as a side effect of the serum: he got early dementia and he was rendered infertile. This is not true of TFATWS!Isaiah though, because he looks like he’s well in control of his mental faculties.

I feel like the serum, if it was flawed, would kill rapidly because of how powerful its effects on cells are. It's supposed to increased strength, endurance, stamina, speed, healing and longevity; we also know that it increased metabolism of alcohol (and maybe other drugs too).

But what are the side effects on increasing strength, stamina and speed? Presumably they would need a much higher energy intake than the normal person to maintain the function of the muscles (and their level of activity). Presumably there would be cascading changes on insulin sensitivity and energy storage. What happens when they become sedentary? Do they store a lot of that excessive energy on their body like Alexei? Or do they get the zoomies because their body is forcing them to burn off the excess energy? What does it mean for sleep? Are they needing more sleep because of the energy expenditure, or less sleep because of the rapid rejuvenation? What does that change in sleep cycle mean when they have to live amongst normal humans? And how do they balance their meals against that?

The higher metabolism is interesting, because does that mean a higher rate of cell turnover? In most normal humans, we know that higher cell turnover rates mean bigger chances of mutations, hence things like chronic inflammation increases risks of cancer. Sure, healing speed might be fast, but sometimes it’s a matter of quality over speed, you know? Are they closing wounds or replacing lost blood but actually spawning cancerous cells? Sometimes I wonder if a lot of Isaiah’s squad may have died from cancer like these 🤔 There is an interesting bit of DNA on our chromosomes called the “telomere”, that seems to be somewhat of a genetic marker for “best before date”, if you will. When the telomere gets shorter, there are higher incidences of age-related diseases, but I’m not sure we’ve figured out which is the chicken or the egg 🤔 The reason I bring it up is we don’t know how the increased metabolism given by the serum will affect the mechanisms for cell repair. Do the cell repair happen faster too? Or do they — as you point out — hit a physiological roadblock and after that it’s all down hill?

And finally, what does the serum do to mental health specifically? Not just the improved memory or the heightened senses (leading to heightened anxiety), but physiological changes can definitely cause emotions, eg people with fast thyroid or fast heart rate feeling anxious and jittery all the time. If your energy is always elevated, how do you let your mind rest? If you’re not able to fall asleep, how does your brain repair itself and consolidate memories? And what is the psychological effect of always living on juice? Is that what drives comics!Isaiah to an early dementia?

Sorry, this raised far more questions than it answered! I think it is definitely possible that there are long term side effects of the serum that we don’t know about. Although I suspect a MCU was thinking is “magic mcgaffin juice, heals all illnesses” which I guess is all you need when the original point of the story is that the physique didn’t matter as much as the man inside, and what was most important was he was going to punch Nazis.

[lwaaddict]

After days of suffering, I now present to you the fic from Andrew's pov that I wanted to make but the writer block says Nuh uh. I apologize this took too long for me to make, I just feel very stressed lately and I have an exam tomorrow. Anyway I hope you enjoy this story:D

Btw English is not my first language so there might be some grammatical error, I use Google translate for some of the paragraphs. Also, this story is just basically a chunk of my au, if I'm not lazy I might make a full fic of my au soon.

Tags:

Major characters death, Hurt/comfort (??), Angst, almost all of them dead lmaoo, You know what f it imma make it hurt no comfort.

Author notes:

I apologize if the fic feels like there is something missing or if it feels rushed, I've been feeling very demotivated lately so the fic will be unseasoned like my sister's food.

Word count:2422

This story is proofread by @thewholekittyandkaboodle . Go follow her!

Link to Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56594590

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Chapter 23 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

They were all standing around Nea and asking what had happened and why we were here already while the rest of the division wasn’t.

Nea herself raised her Helmet like she wanted to hit something and suddenly had a lot more space as nobody wanted to get hit by her.

She really did have an effect on people, just the wrong one.

“I’m fine! I just need tha see a medic, and tha rest of tha division will come here later! Just be glad we fixed tha stupid snow!

Now GO BACK TO YER POSITIONS!”

At her bellowing a good majority of the guards scrambled back to wherever they came from safe for a few that had offered to help her.

While she winked off most of it she still took the long and sturdy branch that a man gave her that definitely wasn’t a guard.

He was not wearing any sort of uniform whatsoever and had mud covered pants held in place by a toolbelt that had a variety of small shovels and other weird equipment stuffed into it.

I would guess him to be about forty, with Brown hair that had some gray streaks in it and a bit of a scruffy beard.

The curiosity wasn’t aimed at me though, it was aimed at the very visible and in some places bent flowers, and I realized that this man must be the Gardener.

Well he’d be happy to know that he could pick up tending to the plants again now that the snow was gone.

I just hoped that he’d ask first if he intended to pluck one of the flowers on my back.

He seemed friendly enough and had not looked at me with hatred or fear like most people did when they first saw me.

That could come later, for now Nea needed medical attention and some of the Guards had already ran ahead when they saw the condition her foot was in, likely getting every medic they could find.

Since there were already enough people looking for a doctor Robin had opted to stay close to us, not like he would have known where to go anyway.

And neither did I, except the shed maybe.

The Castle was new to all of us and I didn’t exactly know how big it was so he could easily have gotten lost searching for a Doctor.

Since help was on its way I wondered if I should offer to get Nea closer to the castle or if we should stay here and let the Doctor pick her up.

Considering how her foot looked, The latter might be best to avoid further irritation.

That meant I was just awkwardly standing there with nothing to do.

At least the mud on my fur had stopped dripping some time ago so nobody got a surprise mud shower.

Robin had also mostly dried but now the mud was caked onto the fabric of his clothing and that did not look comfortable.

Maybe asking about where we could wash up would be a good idea as Nea was adequately supplied with care that she only reluctantly accepted so she didn’t need us anymore.

I would still go take a dip in the ocean though, just to get rid of the outer layer of mud and who knew what else.

I just hoped if i went out to do that they would open the gate again to let me in.

If not I would have to wait for Rikaad and that would be really stupid.

I turned my head a bit to face Robin and inform him what I was going to do.

While I was an okay swimmer it still was a good idea to tell someone that I was about to go out into the ocean.

Getting most of the mud off would be wonderful as the dried bits cracked when I moved and stuck my fur into unpleasant little clumps that gave an unusual tugging sensation.

“Robin? I’m going back out for a bit to wash out some of this mud in the ocean.

I’ll be right back after I get this annoying stuff off, okay?”

He nodded and stepped aside a bit to let me through, instead opting to stick closer to the only other person he knew, Nea.

While Robin followed Nea to wherever the Doctors room was i went back out the still open door and walked down the elevated peninsula to a spot where i could access the water.

I had to go a little ways away from the castle itself before I found a path that led down to the ocean, path being a generous titlement though.

To a human the path might have been nice and wide but to me it was a narrow winding route where I had to be careful not to misstep as it was very steep to my side and falling would hurt.

I made it down without any accidents and just jumped into the cool saltwater, watching it turn muddy from all the dirt that had dried on me as the waves sloshed against my body.

Getting it off felt great, now my skin didn’t feel like it was cracking anymore and the clumps that had tugged at my fur were also gone.

Using my paws to scrub off as much of the rest as I could with the thumbless appendage wasn’t very effective sadly, as I couldn’t reach much more than my underside and legs.

I decided that it was good enough for now, I could probably take a proper bath later, the castle surely had something like that.

Stepping out of the ocean i was dripping with saltwater, to combat that i shook myself like a dog, i mean if it worked for them it surely wouldn’t hurt.

Water was flying everywhere as I tried to get myself as dry as possible and I went back up the winding path up the cliffside.

Since I was wet I had sand stick to my paws but the grass managed to get most of it off while I walked.

Looking back up ahead I noticed that the Guards had not yet closed the gate, either out of consideration or because they were waiting for the rest of the division to also come through here.

Probably the latter as I knew none of them and doubted they would just hold it open out of kindness.

Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have to stay outside so I took it as a plus.

Though walking through I could see that none of the Guards got closer to me than they absolutely had to.

I ignored them as they clearly did not want to interact with me and instead went to the castle itself to find Robin who had trailed after Nea.

I hoped the kinda deranged woman was alright, and began to wonder where Oakley was, he could probably help her when he showed up.

The problem was when was he coming back?

he was stashing the ice staff somewhere safe but who knew how far away that was and when he’d be back.

I hoped he’d be here soon as I wasn’t sure what the human doctors would do to her or if they were even able to help at all.

And I could absolutely not ask them for something to help with my still itching pouch.

It took me a few seconds to realize that I currently did not fit through most of the castle doors, I only got through two as far as I knew and neither led me to where I wanted.

That and i didn’t even know where the medical wing was, let alone anything else.

“You alright there green being?”

I swiveled my head around to the source of the voice and saw that it was the Gardener.

“Just looking for my friend, and i realized i do not fit through any of these doors, did you see where he has gone?”

It was also weird that he didn’t call me a beast or monster or even a big guy like Nea, instead opting to call me Green Being, which was a pretty basic description of what I was at the moment.

The Gardener looked at me for a moment and his gaze once again lingered on the plants that grew on my back for a bit.

“What does your friend look like? I know most of what is going on in the garden so i might have seen him”

That was admittedly a first, someone just straight up offering me help had not happened before, and i didn't even know the man.

But it was strangely nice, I would make sure to treat all of the plants in this place with respect now.

“Well he’s ginger and not very tall, i think he went after Nea but i’m not sure where she is either”

The Gardener hummed and seemed to search through his memories for a bit before answering.

“Well i’m fairly certain he went through the yellow painted door over there after a group of Guards that tried to help Nea”

While speaking he pointed over at the mentioned door that had slightly chipped paint on it.

So that’s where I had to go and then?

I had not been in the castle itself except for the grand entrance hall with the throne that I didn’t bother to look at.

I had absolutely no idea of the layout of the imposing building, but before I could ask anything else I heard a commotion from the front of the actual entrance gate.

Alarmed, I looked over as fast as I could, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Ah seems like the rest of the Division has arrived, well then, i’ll be off for now but i’m sure you’ll see me around”

I looked back at the Gardener but he had already walked away.

Wait, he had said that the rest of the division must have arrived, which meant Rikaad and Arthur were also here now!

I trotted over as fast as I dared, I didn’t run as that would surely freak people out but it was still fast regardless.

Going around the bend of the castle I could see the muddy forms of the Royal Guard led by Norrin and Rikaad.

After a few more seconds I also spotted Arthur who looked like he had fallen front first into mud.

He probably had done just that, I was pretty sure all of us were in dire need of a bath.

At least my short dip in the ocean had helped a lot already.

I came up to the troup from the side and the first person to notice me was Arthur.

“HOW in the FUCK are you here before us?!”

At his sudden outburst everyone else in the division turned to look at me.

Great, not what I had wanted at all, being stared at like a freak, but seeing their confused faces was kinda funny.

I’d have to tell Nea that later, if I even found where in the castle she was, she’d be amused I was sure.

Still, being stared at was not something I liked and I wished they would go somewhere else.

I tried my best to ignore it as I approached Arthur, bending down a bit to be more eye level with him.

“I found out that i can run really fast, the other two just kept urging me to go faster and faster so i did”

He just stared at me as if it had not crossed his mind that I could actually sprint in this form.

“So wait, how long have you been here? And Where are the others?”

Well I wasn’t sure how long I had actually been here,

but the other i could at least answer half.

“I don’t really know how long, just long enough for me to go and wash off the worst of the mud in the ocean, as for the other two they brought Nea to a Doc in the castle somewhere and Robin followed her”

He looked past me at the castle looking like he wanted to barge in and search for the ginger.

He was however, like everyone else in the division, still dripping with mud.

Whoever was in charge of cleaning the castle would have a stroke if they all went inside like this.

I swiveled my head around to try and spot Rikaad, he was standing next to Norrin again and apparently had asked one of the not muddy Guards for a bucket of water.

Why became clear not even a second later as he poured it over himself to wash the worst of the muck off.

Norrins face to this was hilarious, he looked really shocked, like he had just seen someone grow a second head.

But it did make sense, it got at least some of the mud off and the rest could be scrubbed off later.

Some other Guards had brought even more buckets so the rest of the division could rinse off too, which they promptly did, following Rikaads example.

Rikaad came over to me and Arthur while everyone else was busy with trying to get the mud off.

His hair was dripping with water and his clothing clung to his skin showing off his muscles.

He could probably toss me if I was my human sized self.

Ignoring the fact that the man could just fucking break me if he so desired i instead asked him how the trek back was.

“So you finally all arrived too, anything else happen that’s noteworthy?”

He shook his head.

“No, it was rather boring even, but walking while covered in mud is not something i recommend”

“Yeah especially as it started to dry, urgh i feel like my skin is cracking and i just want a bath to get all of this off of me”

Arthur chimed in, and a bath did sound good as there was still some muck stuck between the hairs of my fur.

That was not a sentence I ever expected to think.

“That sounds like a good idea, and i kinda want to shift back to my human size but i’m worried about getting stabbed if someone sees my pointy ears”

This was the place the old king had declared to kill any Faefolk so it was pretty obvious why i was so nervous about it, But I couldn’t stay as Ardua the entire time, I wanted to be able to use my thumbs and actually fit through doors.

“They wont as long as i’m near you, and that is also one of the things i will have to fix later as soon as i can get access to all the papers the old man signed”

Well, that was reassuring, and it was nice to know that Rikaad intended to fix all the Bullshit the old git did.

But there was also the fact that i did not want to shift in front of so many people, stupid as it may sound i felt kinda embarrassed, like changing pants in public, also i didn’t want everyone to know i could do that.

I was pretty sure that would be a recipe for disaster, especially if it was found out that it was the bracelet that let me do this.

No doubt someone would try to steal it, even if I was the only one that could actually use the thing.

If the thief then tried to use it they would die, like Oakley said.

So maybe I should find cover instead and shift there?

The weird barn storage area would probably do, and there was a door into the castle right next to it that I could use.

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

“I’m not going to shift in front of so many people though, What if one of them gets the idea to steal the bracelet? I’d rather not have that happen.

I think i’ll just hide in the weird built on shed for that”

At a nod from Rikaad i went around the castle again, followed by both of the smaller men.

Well smaller for now, Rikaad was a good bit taller than me at my normal size.

Human size? Smallest size?

Nothing about me was normal anymore so i wasn’t sure if i should call that my normal height, maybe original height?

Thinking about that too much would probably give me a headache so I let it be, it wasn’t really important anyway since I could just shift whenever I wanted.

As long as there was enough space of course.

While stepping around the corner of the castle I made sure not to accidentally tread on any of the meticulously planted flowers.

Then before I could push the door to the oversized shed open I heard a voice behind us.

All three of us looked back to who had spoken in unison.

“Sire? Where are you going? Do you need anything?”

It was Norrin, apparently he had seen us leaving and decided to follow his new king.

Rikaad actually didn’t look too happy about it, likely realizing that his private and freetime would be rather limited from now on.

Regardless of that he wasn’t unfriendly or rude about it as Norrin was only doing his job.

“I was going to bring Donovan and Arthur into the castle and look for Robin”

Norrin looked confusedly at me for a second.

yeah i didn’t fit inside the castle as Ardua but i intended to change that.

“Wh- i don’t think Donovan can fit through the doors, or do you plan on letting him climb through one of the bigger windows?”

The poor man was thoroughly confused now, and I guessed that I actually might fit through some of the bigger windows, but those were not on ground level and to reach them I would have to get to the second or third story.

Oh what the hell, Norrin knowing what exactly made me shift wouldn’t be bad, he might even be helpful with it.

“No that’s not the plan, i’m going to shift into a more human form and use the door”

He stared at me for a few more seconds, one eyebrow twitching a bit for a moment.

“You can do that? Why did you stay in the fuzzier form for so long then?”

Well now he was just as confused as before, as for why I stayed as Ardua, well.

“My ears are pointy in human form, i thought if i shifted i would immediately get stabbed, or worse”

Well I did get stabbed, but not in human form and not while in the kingdom, The itchy stitching was a constant reminder of that.

It was really annoying and I would ask Oakley if he had anything to stop it as soon as I could.

But Oakley wasn’t even here right now, so I would first go look for Robin and then see if I could take a bath to scrub the rest of this muck off of me.

Norrin still looked a tiny bit confused but didn’t seem to have any more questions.

There was nobody else here so I probably didn’t even have to go into the shed to shift.

Besides there was a good bit of open space around us aside from the castle wall so I doubted that if someone was looking our way they’d see what I was doing.

So without further messing about I twisted the gem back into its original position with one of my claws after fumbling with it for a second.

Shrinking was not the most pleasant sensation as it felt like air was just rushing out of my lungs and I couldn’t inhale for the duration of it but once that was done I was back down to my five foot eight height.

Not a lot compared to Rikaad and Norrin, but at least I was still taller than Arthur.

I bet he was not happy about that, but suddenly being smaller than Rikaad again was really weird.

Norrin just stared, like his brain was having trouble catching up with what he saw.

I couldn’t blame him for that really, that was not something you see everyday after all.

He stared for a few more seconds and then his brain seemed to have caught up with the present.

“I don’t know why but i expected you to have green hair”

Were the first words that left his mouth, and honestly?

That assumption wasn’t even that out of the box.

My entire fur had been green so to someone who didn’t know what my human form looked like such a guess was not far off.

But it was still funny, my hair was a normal shade of brown but as Ardua i had a green mess.

I’d have to ask Oakley why that is when I went to get help for the annoying itching.

But for now he wasn’t here, probably still hiding that ice staff somewhere so I would do the other stuff first.

On the to-do list was to find Robin and then get the rest of the mud off.

Now that I was in human form the muck clung to me and had soaked into my shirt, It was really unpleasant as it was starting to dry again from my dip in the ocean.

Eurgh, that felt awful.

Whatever, I would deal with that soon enough.

“I mean, my fur is green so I guess that would be an obvious assumption?”

Norrin was still just staring, and his gaze ended up wandering to my pointed ears.

I already did not like being stared at, but having people look at my ears especially made me uncomfortable and I self consciously put my hands over them.

Normally having anyone see them would only spell trouble for me so I was quite nervous even if I didn’t really have to be anymore.

Years of hiding them out of fear wouldn’t go away in a few days, hell it probably would take quite some time to even get used to actually sleeping without worry of getting stabbed or worse.

At least Norrin had the decency to look away after he saw me put my hands over them.

“Well uh where in the castle do you want to go?

I can show you the way? I know the layout pretty well”

Right, none of us had been in the castle that long, I hadn’t even been inside before so I would have no idea where the hell I was going.

At a nod from both me and Arthur, as well as Rikaad’s go ahead, He went inside first.

“You are looking for your red headed friend right?

Where did you say he’d gone?”

I just realized that Norrin did not know all of our names, He knew Rikaad of course as he was the king and maybe mine but I was pretty sure nobody had told him the names of the other two.

“He should be with Nea i think? He did enter the castle with her while i used sea water to get the worst mud off”

He nodded.

“The medical wing then, well, if they managed to convince Nea to go there at least”

Convincing Nea would probably take twice as long as her just accepting help and getting it over with, but aside from that there weren’t many other places to go in the castle.

At least not that I knew of.

Following the armored man through the tall corridor I noted that I could actually fit through the biggest ones as Ardua.

Also walking on two legs again was suddenly weird, I had become accustomed to the four legs way too quickly and now I felt I could way too easily be toppled over.

And without the fur my skin suddenly felt way too exposed, which in turn made me a tiny bit nervous again.

I ignored it as well as I could as I knew that was just nonsense, I was IN the castle next to the king who the hell would try anything?

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Secret Exchange Diary of the Beauty and the Tyrant (His POV)

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors. Not 100% accurate.

CW: Slightly Suggestive

Emma: “Prince Silvio, would you like to exchange diaries?”

Silvio: “Ha?”

We were chillin’ out in bed after taking a bath together when Emma suddenly proposed an unexpected idea.

Emma: “We’ll show each other our diaries.”

Silvio: “Who would do something so embarrassing? I ain’t gonna do it.”

Emma: “You really think it’s embarrassing? Your voyage log is in a book, you know?”

Silvio: “Those two are different things. I won’t do it even if you ask me to.”

(Her head is really full of such fantasies.)

Emma: “Fine.”

Not expecting me to disagree, she easily backed down.

Emma: “Then, it’s okay if I send you my diary alone, right?”

Silvio: “What’s your goal here?”

Emma: “It’s a secret.”

(I don’t get it.)

I could tell she was up to something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

(Never mind. If she’s satisfied with it, fine.)

Silvio: “You’re going to send it anyway, aren’t you? Fine, I'll go along with it.”

Emma: “Thank you!”

She giggled and hugged me around the waist.

(I don’t really get how women think.)

Just like what she said, from that day on, she really did send me her diary.

Today I holed up in the castle's library to learn about the history and transition of Benitoite.

I've always known that the country is famous for its sea and trade. However, it was Prince Silvio's voyages that gave Benitoite the edge over other countries.

He had three major voyages in the past.

All of them were his greatest achievements that had already been compiled in history books.

My fiancée was really cool. I couldn't help but fall in love with him even more as I read about him in history books.

But what he achieved so far was not limited to voyages.

I'd like to know everything about him.

I might fall in love with him each time and suddenly want to hug him, but I hope he forgives me then.

(........)

(How can you write something so cringy?)

After reading her diary during my break, I closed it, and for some reason, my face wouldn't stop blushing.

It was so embarrassing that I almost jumped into the water but resisted and just ruffled my hair.

(But what's in it for her by giving it to me?)

(It's not like she has anything special to tell me. If anything, it just makes me feel good.)

(This is like a love letter now. Ah, damn it.)

It was sickening as a trader to benefit from the diary alone because the principle in business is fair trade.

Receiving Emma’s diary alone wasn’t fair.

(If she's only giving this to make me write a diary, then that's quite impressive.)

She might be a sassy woman, but I didn’t think she would use this kind of tactic.

(No point dwelling on it. I just have to ask her.)

Silvio: “Why do you want to exchange diaries?”

As soon as I finished my official duties, I stormed into her room and blurted out these words.

She was apparently studying hard, with a stack of history books on her desk.

She widened her eyes at my sudden visit, but stopped writing.

Emma: “I heard a rumor that you might be going on a voyage soon.”

(You already heard about it, huh?)

It was just a minor voyage一one that would leave the castle empty for a few days. But despite knowing this, Emma didn’t look too happy.

Emma: “This is the first time I’m going to be separated from you here in Benitoite.”

Emma: "I know you often go sailing, and there'll be times when we won't be able to see each other in the future, so I thought if I wrote a diary, I'd miss you a little less."

Silvio: "I see..."

I ended up clutching my head and grunting.

(If that's the case, you should've said so from the start. Why can't you do something as cute as this?)

Silvio: "It wouldn't make sense if you were the only one writing the diary."

Emma: "That's not true."

Emma: "Just having my diary will make you remember me when you go on your voyage. Pretty wicked, huh?"

(What's so wicked about it, you idiot?)

I ruffled her hair messily in annoyance at her overwhelming cuteness.

Emma: "Are you mad?"

Silvio: "Why would I be mad?"

Emma: "Because it was pretty selfish."

Silvio: "*sigh* It's not even close to being selfish."

(To be honest, I was planning to take your diary without telling you.)

Emma: "Then why did you mess up my hair?"

Silvio: "I just feel like it."

Emma: "Don't mess it up just because you feel like it!"

Silvio: "Shut up. I'm in the mood for this."

Now that I'd heard the reason, I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed.

As I continued to mess up Emma's hair, I remembered again that no Benitoite businessman should ever break the most basic and important principle.

(It ain't my style, though.)

(Tch, I guess I don't have a choice.)

A few nights later, I returned to my room after finishing my work and heard the sound of lively footsteps thumping from the corridor.

Emma: "Prince Silvio!"

Silvio: "!?”

The door swung open with a bang, and Emma jumped into my chest like a rabbit.

Without giving me a chance to react, she suddenly hugged me, causing my body to freeze in surprise.

Silvio: "How many times do I have to tell you not to startle me?"

Emma: "This is not the time for that!"

She moved away from me and held up a diary.

It was the diary I purposely left in her room when she wasn't there.

(I left it there because I couldn't stand to see it being read in front of me.)

Emma: "I didn't expect you to write it."

Emma: "The content一"

Silvio: "Don't say it! Don't say it out loud!"

Emma: "I can't?"

Silvio: "You can't, you idiot."

(I want to get the hell out of here right now.)

Anticipating this, she blocked my way.

Emma: "Then let me tell you what I think of一"

Silvio: "I don't want any feedback!"

Emma: "I'll only say one short phrase."

I tried to cut off her words, but she quickly covered my mouth.

(This bitch...)

Emma: "I love you!"

I gulped, and my heart thumped loudly in my chest as I saw her face up close, beaming with delight.

Silvio: "You're getting carried away."

Emma: "Of course, I'd get carried away if I read that. It was like a love letter一"

This time, I put my lips on hers and took the words I couldn't bear to hear.

Silvio: "Don't say anything else."

(I don't want to remember it.)

Every time she tried to speak, I kissed her lips and entwined my breath with hers.

I held her hips and felt a slight tremor in my palms as I deepened the exchange of our tongues.

(I won't let you say anything cheeky for a while.)

Just to be sure, I kissed her more deeply, and lewd wet noises echoed around the room.

I knew that if I did this, she'd be even more embarrassed than I was.

When I took everything away from her, Emma turned her teary eyes upward, her breath uneven.

Emma: "Are you embarrassed?"

Silvio: "So what if I am?"

Emma: "Nothing."

She only grinned and said nothing about what I did, which would normally make her blush and complain.

Silvio: "Are you sure you want to be smiling like that?"

(Is my diary really making you that happy?)

I pushed her against a nearby wall and put my knee between her legs.

When I forcefully shook her, I could see from her expression that her composure had vanished.

Emma: "W-What do you think you're doing!?"

Silvio: "If you humiliated me, it's only fair that you should be humiliated as well."

Emma: "Ngh…I didn't humiliate you."

Silvio: "You ain't convincing me."

I unbuttoned her blouse and forcefully pulled down her upper garments.

As I mercilessly squeezed her exposed breasts, she began to moan.

(I was trying to keep you quiet, but if you keep making that kind of face, I wouldn't be able to hold back either.)

I lifted her skirt and continued to stimulate her directly with my knee.

When I smirked at the faint wetness I felt through my clothes, she noticed and looked away, blushing.

Emma: "Did you really hate the diary so much?"

Silvio: "If I really didn't like it, I wouldn't have done it."

I let out a small laugh, and despite her becoming somewhat disheveled, she laughed as well.

Emma: "Then, please stay with me for a little longer."

Silvio: "Ha?"

Emma: "Is that a no?"

(.........)

There was no way I could resist her request, seeing how she carefully held the diary.

Silvio: "I'll go along with you as much as you want if this makes you that happy. Damn it."

Swearing, I hold Emma in my arms and lay her on the bed.

As I sank her into the bed, the diary slipped from her hands, its pages flipping open.

I'm off to the shipyard today for a meeting to discuss the new voyage.

I'd most likely be sailing in a few weeks at this rate.

I plan to return in a few days, but I kinda feel bad leaving you alone.

We'll use an unknown route this time, so the danger is uncertain. This is why I can't take you with me.

I'll be back as soon as I can because you seem to be more lonely than I thought.

As you know, I'm a businessman before I'm royalty.

I will probably go on less risky voyages as I take over the throne, but I don't intend to stop because Benitoite has made rapid progress by crossing rough seas and creating new trade routes.

My way of doing things is different from my old man's.

I may make you lonely and worried, but I will spoil you when I can be with you.

I'll keep up with the diary, and if there's anything else you want me to do, just let me know.

I'll even do a few outlandish things for you.

I can't help but fall in love with you, too, every single day.

Fin.

[marc0wave]

Fic丨Insomnia丨Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Still a request about Xavier Thorpe x Reader! This time it mentions fluff and kissing (just the end result) If there are any grammatical errors please let me know and I'll fix them, and more friends are still welcome to send requests by all means!

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

"Still can't sleep?"

The door to the drawing room opens and quickly closes again. Xavier's figure squeezed in through the opened gap, and although it was only a process of a few seconds, you still smelled the damp earth of the woods and the scent of grass burrowing into the small room together.

"Still insomnia. I can't disturb my roommate by tossing and turning and not being able to sleep either." You put down the pencil in your hand and turn around to see the boy standing in the doorway. Xavier is shaking droplets of water off his clothes like a raptor returning to its winter nest. You slowly explain to Xavier, a palpable tiredness and helplessness floating in your language. You usually have a hard time having a good night's sleep naturally, which is probably the price you pay for having powerful divination and psychic abilities. More whining words bubble up from your mind, but are quickly chased away by you, "And, you must be the same, Xavier. That's why you're here."

"I tried to sleep, and I only got maybe half an hour."

"So that's from having that dream again, about the monster?"

Xavier nods indefinitely, not sitting down as he usually did. He shrugs and just casually set aside his umbrella and the keys to his bike. He does his best to answer your question. As he approaches you, you smell the cold scent of rain, but the vast majority of it is passively warmed by Xavier's body heat, turning it into an indescribable, springtime lake-like tenderness. You must admit that Xavier's presence will give you some strength to face your own troubles, as well as some courage to confess and dissect your inner world.

"Since it's curfew time, we're complicit. I'm glad for that fact. Considering you might be coming, I went here at noon to tidy up and put away those ...... not-so-wonderful sketches." He says, eventually standing behind you, examining the results of the drawings you made on his paper during the period of solitude you just spent. Xavier's voice is silent for three seconds, "Your style is kinda ......"

"Wild. I'm drawing you." You smile up. It's a good idea to get creative with the trimmings of the paper left over from his painting, and besides, Xavier won't blame you for ruining his masterpiece with a botched scribble. Even though you are not facing him, you believe you must have heard Xavier's sigh, which is not a complaint, but just a code word between you. You prefer to describe the subtle emotions embedded in it as a kind of doting and eccentricity.

Xavier seems to bend down, something you are almost certain of as you sit in front of his easel while he stands behind you as a shield behind you, his breath close to your cheek with heat and unintentional intimacy, "Oh. I can tell that despite your cute ideas, your drawing skills need a little practice. Like this..."

You seem to feel his untied hair gently pass over your temple, tickling your ears and face. Xavier reaches out, the scent of the humid night wrapping around you, and his hand takes the back of yours at the same time, leading you to pick up your pencil. Xavier's other hand presses against your shoulder, but can't make you to focus on how he is leading your hand and the pencil in your hand to draw wonderful lines.

All you know is that Xavier's palm is hot, unlike the coldness on his jacket, his hand is soft, reliable, and a little larger than yours, and that warmth soaks through your clothes and skin, and your tactile nerves begin to dance with glee as soon as they catch Xavier's touch. He was an artist, that's what all his classmates said about him. Xavier certainly enjoyed the moments when the pen blossomed on the paper to produce beautiful works, the burning creative passion always stirring in his chest, forming that highly romantic part of his soul. You are fascinated by his sometimes forgetful and sometimes contradictory qualities. Xavier is like a poet walking between heaven and earth, but he happens to use his brushes for poetry and his colorful creativity as a rhyme for his works.

"So," Xavier's voice suddenly rings out, and you turn back to your senses. He whispers in your ear, almost making you jump up from your chair. He must have felt you shake in shock, but you're not sure if you heard a friendly bark of laughter from him as a result, "I just worked on your sketches a bit. If I may ask, is that how I look to you?"

You feel your back sweat a little, for no other reason than that you took advantage of his absence to depict him reading a book during class, and at the moment, the Xavier in the painting is no longer focused on reading his textbook. It's as if he's been given a soul in the painting. He raises his eyes, gazes into your eyes, and even reaches out from the paper to touch your fingers that are still holding the pen. Is it just you, or is Xavier really flirting with you, even using his art-filled magic in a brilliant way?

"Oh, uh... it did have so-" you stammer, finding yourself unable to find a proper adjective, and you can only quickly turn your head sideways to try to trick yourself into escaping the question, only to find the real Xavier coming closer to look at you . You almost hit the tip of his nose, your breaths entwined, and for just a moment you think you might have made up your minds about something with each other.

"It doesn't matter what kind of description it is," Xavier says. His breath spills over your lips, and you see with your afterglow that the sketch you've worked on together resumes its stillness, slumbering back on the page. He continues, bringing your attention back to him, "One of them must be fascinating. You're observing me so carefully, how did I miss the fact that Nevermore's good student also have a side of not listening in class?"

"Rightfully so. But Xavier, I didn't realize you had such a narcissistic side."

Xavier smiles and you feel his hand travel down the back of your neck, eventually resting on the back of your head. Your hair wraps around his fingers and you feel a push that you can't deny. Good thing you weren't about to deny him a kiss either.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 2 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Prompt: You are Dolores Cannava, a young Italian-American nurse desperate to make her own way in the world and break free of her dysfunctional mafia-connected family and traumatic past. Elvis Presley is just returning home from his two-year stint in the Army, looking more handsome than ever, but feeling the pressure to successfully find his way back to the stratospheric career he was forced to leave behind. In a twisted turn of fate, Elvis finds himself in the hospital where your paths cross. Forced to harbor his potentially career-ending secret and needing to escape a terrifying future in New York, you are pulled into his unusual world and must endure a begrudging fake relationship with Elvis in order to protect his reputation (and his life). 

TW: Hospitals, illness, cussing. The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: PG (ish?) (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Happy Broken Glass Wednesday, y'all! I'm going to try to put out a chapter a week on Wednesdays (we shall see if I can keep up lol). Thank you for your lovely responses to Chapter 1 and for giving this little fic a chance. ❤️

This chapter dives into some heavy stuff in that I've sped up the timeline and brought some of the serious health issues that Elvis experienced more prominently later in his life to the forefront in 1960. I've always wondered what might have happened if they had recognized his many complex conditions for what they were early in his life. Truth be told, I am endlessly fascinated by the medical conundrum that was Elvis and that he lived most of his life with some pretty severe shit that at the time no one understood or had names for. Of course, I simplify the shit out of it here and try to put them in laymen's terms. I've taken some major artistic liberties with history in that there is likely no way in 1960 they would have be able to diagnose, especially so quickly, his complex conditions. Also, I am not a medical professional, so I've done my best to describe things whist moving the plot along. I HIGHLY recommend reading Sally Hoedel's book Elvis: Destined to Die Young if you are interested in the specifics regarding E's health journey and how he ended up where he did in terms of that. It's a superbly researched and somewhat heartbreaking book that I think every Elvis fan should read. It certainly inspired part of this story.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 

I imagined it 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’ve used the tag list from Pink Scarf, and added those who requested it, so please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Story is cross-posted to my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences! 

Shit.

Elvis winces as he cracks open his eyes just enough to see the sun blazing in on him. The infernal light pierces straight into his head, worsening the headache that already throbs against the inside of his skull. He quickly shuts his eyes again, cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to keep the curtains open on a sunny late winter’s day.

Gotta have Lamar cover those damn windows with something more than those flimsy-ass cutains, he thinks, already pissed off.

It takes him a moment to register where he is and why he’s there. That, in fact, the sun’s rays are rather weak and dim, making him wonder just what time it is. Holding the bridge of his nose against the pain in his head, he manages to squint his eyes open to find himself in a rather small hospital room.

Bits and pieces start to come back to him, though the days and nights run together into one big jumble. How he’d finally escaped the confines of his service in Germany, so damn excited to be coming home that he hadn’t properly slept in days. He’d just kept popping those great little pills he’d obtained from a more than generous pharmacist in Bad Nauheim and, fueled by those and pure restlessness to get back to the states, he’d managed to easily keep the smile on his face for the cameras in Germany and the UK.

But the flight over the Atlantic had him chewing his nails to the quick, his legs going a mile a minute. He feared flying ever since the emergency landing that he, Scotty, and Bill had to make in that small, dinky little plane back in the old days, when things had just started to kick up for them in the business. It was made worse by his mama being convinced that he was gonna die in a horrible, fiery crash, so he’d taken to trains and boats and cars as his main forms of transport. The U.S. Army wanted to get him home sooner rather than later, however, and if there was one thing he’d learned in the last two years, it’s that you don’t try to fight Uncle Sam.

Whether it was the flight or the pills or the lack of rest, he’d started to get queasy and dizzy on that pass over the ocean. Then, the scratchiness of his throat, the burn of his forehead, and the chilled sweat that began to stain his perfectly pressed and tailored uniform were the telltale signs of a bout of tonsilitis striking him at precisely the wrong time.

That’s where things get a little fuzzy. Between the pain behind his eyes and at the base of his skull and the heavy fatigue consuming him, it’s not coming to him as quickly as he’d like. His eyes begin to adjust to the sunlight, and he puts together enough to know whatever happened between that flight and landing in New York was enough to land him flat on his ass in the hospital.

New York. That explains all the racket, he thinks as the sounds below on the streets echo off the buildings, creating a cacophony unique to the big city.

The door to the little room swings open then, making him jump out of his skin. It’s as though his state of consciousness was magically communicated to the staff because in walks an older gentleman in a long, white coat, along with his daddy and the Colonel. Their faces are all different degrees of solemn, which sets a churning dread down into the pit of his stomach.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Mr. Presley. You’ve been asleep quite a while,” the doctor says, the man’s education only belying a hint of a New York accent. “You’ve had us a bit worried.”

“Mister Presley is my father, Doctor. Please call me Elvis,” he manages to croak out. The fire in his throat flames from the use, causing him to cough and sputter. There’s an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest that tightens with each breath, and that knot in his stomach coils ever tighter.

“Take it easy, son,” his daddy says softly, pouring a glass of water from the table against the wall and handing it to him. The action triggers a memory: a pretty, little dark-haired nurse all in white doing the same in the middle of the night.

Elvis is pulled from the memory as the doctor begins speaking in a serious tone: “Elvis, I’m Dr. Paulson. You had quite the fall in the airplane yesterday morning and hit your head. Do you remember?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm, that isn’t unusual with a head injury of this type. You might find that your memory has some gaps, bit that is to be expected and will likely resolve with time. But your injury is not what has me concerned, young man, it’s the cause of your unconsciousness that is the real culprit, I’m afraid.”

“What do y’mean, sir? Just feels like a flare of the ol’ tonsils to me.” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, Elvis knows it’s not the whole truth. He’s never felt quite this terrible in his life, with the way he’s struggling for breath and his body aches from head to toe.

“Elvis, along with your fall, you also went into respiratory distress last night.” Suddenly, Elvis remembers the laughing fit, how he couldn’t catch his breath, how the air just couldn’t seem to fill his lungs as that pretty nurse held his hand. But he thinks maybe it happened before that, too, him gasping for breath as the roar of airplane engines rang in his ears. Icy fear runs down his spine at the remembrance of not being able to draw breath. His attention snaps back to the doctor as he continues.

“We’ve run some tests, and that, coupled with your family history…” the austere man hesitates, “Well, I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

The Colonel glances away and out the window at that, his mouth set in a frown Elvis has never seen before, but it’s the look of sadness on his daddy’s face that finally sets a wave of panic rolling through him.

“Lay it on me, Dr. Paulson,” Elvis says, steeling himself.

“You seem to have a condition that is affecting your lungs, heart, and liver, all of which are vital to our survival. Looking at your mother’s medical records, we think she may have been afflicted with the same condition, and possibly more family members on her side. In fact, it’s likely what caused her early demise,” Dr. Paulson explains.

At the mention of his mama, Elvis’ heart constricts, his barely buried grief stinging his eyes. He blinks away the tears as fast as he can, trying to follow what the doctor is saying.

“Along with that, your immune system also appears compromised, which would explain your frequent and severe bouts of fever and tonsilitis. Altogether, it’s a perfect storm that is likely to only get worse with time. Of course, medical science is improving every day, and there may be better treatments down the road…” Dr. Paulson trails off.

Dread falls over him like a heavy blanket. “What’re ya sayin’, sir?” Elvis asks quietly but is afraid to hear the answer he thinks he’s gonna get.

Dr. Paulson takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but it’s likely these conditions are going to shorten your lifespan considerably.”

The words hang in the air like a suffocating dark cloud. His daddy’s face crumples and he turns away, while the Colonel winces—actually winces—at the words.

“So, y-y-you’re saying this gonna k-k-kill me? That I-I-I’m gonna die?” His vocal incredulousness covers how the sheer panic overcoming him sets his heart galloping. “I’m only 25, Doc…y-y-you gotta be w-wrong ‘bout this. I just spent two damn years in the Army, and they sure as hell didn’t say nothin’ about no ‘condition’!”

“This condition is very rare, Elvis, and we are learning more about it every day. I’m not saying it’ll be today, but considering the episode you’ve just had, this disease will factor critically into your overall health and survival going forward. It has already started a cascade of chronic health issues of varying severity that will worsen as you age, and in the end, this combination of factors will almost certainly be the thing that kills you.”

Hearing those words out of the doctor’s mouth sets him numb with disbelief. This can’t be fucking happening. Not when everything is gettin’ set to be back on track. Not when I got so much left to do.

“No disrespect, Doctor, but I-I-I don’t accept that. I w-want a second opinion,” Elvis shakes his head, the words popping out of his stubborn mouth before he has much chance to think on them, to actually consider the possible truth of them.

But a deep part of him knows.

He knows his mama died too young and that her illness didn’t make sense. He knows he’s got family who died before their time. But most of all, he knows how he feels, and something ain’t right.

“Colonel Parker and your father have said as much, so I will contact some specialists to meet you in Memphis upon your return. But in some ways, young man, this is a good thing,” Dr. Paulson intones softly.

“Now, how the hell d’ya figure that?!” Elvis rasps out, nearly belligerent. He’s not one to be disrespectful, usually, especially to a man of such education, but he feels like shit and the blazing red heat of his temper pushes in before he can stop it.

Dr. Paulson blinks at him with his brows raised, and Elvis feels a wave of shame crash over his already rolling fear and anger. His mama didn’t raise him to talk to people that way. He takes a breath.

“I-I-I’m sorry, sir,” Elvis apologizes deferentially. “I-I’m just h-havin’ a hard time with what y-you’re saying, is all.”

“That’s understandable. What I meant by it being a ‘good thing’ is that now we know what we are dealing with and can set you up with lifestyle changes that could both improve your quality of life and perhaps extend it. We can set you up with constant care in order to avoid…things taking a downturn.”

Elvis’ head is spinning, pounding, making him feel wildly out of control. “Lifestyle changes? Constant care? I ain’t no invalid, Dr. Paulson, I’ll tell you for sure.” He nearly growls the promise as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, meaning to walk the hell out of here and show this doctor just how wrong he is.

In the back of his mind, he realizes instantly how stupid it sounds, considering that the moment he stands, his entire body betrays him and sends him careening to the floor, if not for the doctor and his daddy grabbing him under each arm and hauling his ass back into the bed. There, he is faced with the terrible reality that he’s sicker than a dog with the world spinning out from under him in more ways than one.

“None of us want this to be true, son, but maybe you should listen to the doctor,” his father says quietly in his ear, putting a hand on his shoulder.

This is the last thing Elvis wants to do. He wants to kick and scream and rally himself well. I can prove them all wrong, he thinks, if only he could stop the world from spinning and his breath from wheezing and his body from aching.

Fuck.

Elvis can’t bear to look at anyone, choosing to stare up at the high, vaulted ceiling, blinking away the blast of dark spots in his eyes as he tries to catch his damn breath.

“What’s next?” he finally wheezes out, counting the dots on the ceiling tiles to keep him from floating away.

“Well, first we need to keep you in the hospital as long as it takes to get you stabilized before you can go home to Memphis.”

“Absolutely not!” the Colonel exclaims from near the window. “We’ve already kept the press at bay long enough with talks of flight delays and other nonsense. We can’t hold them back much longer. You listen here, that boy needs to make appearances, and he needs to look the picture of health doing so, or he’s not going to have a career to go back to!”

The doctor scoffs. “Mr. Parker, look at him—Elvis’ career is the least of his worries.”

“It’s Colonel Parker, Mr. Paulson,” he hisses, “and his career is most certainly your concern. You have your expertise, and I have mine, and I’m telling you right now, I didn’t spend two years keeping him in the public eye despite his service to have you flush it down the toilet. I’m sure you don’t want to be the doctor that doomed Elvis Presley. The one who ripped him away from his legions of loyal fans.” The threat is crystal clear, and by the resulting silence, the doctor seems somewhat shaken.

“Sir, there will be no career if the young man is dead.” The doctor’s words hang heavy, and Elvis closes his eyes, willing himself to be anywhere but here. But there is no escaping this. No amount of money, talent, or fame is gonna get him out of this one.

Finally, he brings himself to speak, “I ain’t givin’ up my career, Dr. Paulson. But I also feel like something the cat dragged in last night and can’t get outta this damned bed. So, we’re gonna need to figure out a compromise.”

Dr. Paulson stares at Elvis and the Colonel like they’ve lost their minds. Vernon stays characteristically silent.

“Anything short of you staying here until you at least recover from this episode will be against my medical advice. You are in too fragile a state to consider anything else,” Dr. Paulson says, almost pleadingly. “And with this condition, if you try to jump back into the breakneck lifestyle of a superstar, your life will be short indeed.”

Elvis sets his jaw. “Sir, no offense, but you don’t know me very well. I can do just about anythin’ I set my mind to. We’ve all worked very hard to get me where I am, and I ain’t ready to give that up just yet. I got too much to do. Now tell me, what do I gotta do to get you to let me outta this hospital?”

The doctor looks at him and shakes his head, silent. Finally, he relents. “First off, you have to be able to get out of bed and stand on your own two feet without collapsing.”

“Fine. I can do it.” Even the Colonel looks at him with a tinge of disbelief on that one. “Maybe not this instant, but I’ll do it.”

“Secondly, if you are able to do that and still choose to leave against advice, I recommend having a doctor with you at all times, someone who can monitor your vitals and give you care when you take a turn for the worse,” the doctor concedes, “which you most certainly will.”

“Done,” Elvis agrees quickly. Anything that will get him out of here and back home to his life.

“Now, listen here, my boy, there is no reasonable way to spin a doctor following you everywhere without the press having a field day. You could lose everything the minute the public knows you’re…sick,” the Colonel points at him, faltering on that last word.

He means ‘dying’ not ‘sick,’ an unwelcome voice in the back of his head adds. But Elvis understands the Colonel’s point. Even as private as he is, it’ll be difficult to go to a movie set or recording studio with a stuffy doctor in tow and not have anyone find out. Shit.

Dr. Paulson looks exasperated and crosses his arms. Colonel just glares. But it’s his daddy that finally pops up in the uncomfortable silence.

“What…what about a nurse? Elvis always has girls hanging around him…” Vernon trails off.

Silence fills the air. Elvis blinks slowly and can see the wheels turning in Colonel’s head, the way they do when he’s about ready to come up with the perfect plan, the perfect snow job.

“It…could work, if we get one young and pretty enough. Don’t love it because I wanted to keep Elvis publicly available in the eyes of his fans—no attachments—but looks like we may not have a choice. Better you taken than single and…” The Colonel chooses not to finish that sentence, but they all know the ending he’s avoiding, what he’s choosing not to say.

He races to continue, “But you’ve got to keep up appearances in public, my boy, since she’ll have to be a steady fixture in your life. No more frolicking around with every pretty thing with legs. No more girlfriends in every county, state, and country from here to Timbuktu. No one, girlfriends included, can know what we’re up to or all could be lost. Even your wild friends are going to have to believe this is real for it to work.”

Elvis’ heart begins to race with the thought of being so thoroughly confined to a relationship, especially with some random woman who he might not even be attracted to, physically or otherwise, even if it is just for show. He’s always hated the Colonel being in his private romantic business, knowing that the man has managed to somehow get rid of more than a few of his steadies with some unknown manipulations to keep him “unattached.” So, for Colonel to agree to this plan, Elvis realizes just how dire the situation is.

And God knows, he already has more girlfriends than he can handle as it is. He has yet to be reunited with Anita, pines for Priscilla from afar, and dragged Elisabeth from Germany and sent her ahead to Graceland, not to mention the multitude of other flings he indulges in. But he loves women, to a fault, and he doesn’t want to be tied down to just one (no matter how he tells his girls otherwise). Worrying his lower lip in his teeth, he realizes he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’ll have to find a way to make it work.

The Colonel must sense this from him. “Oh, come on now, my boy, we all know your talent for juggling women is near as good as your talent for performing. Think of it as a challenge to hone your acting craft. There are worse things than being made to spend time with a pretty girl,” Colonel drawls, daring to wink at him.

Elvis feels sick to his stomach with the dishonesty of it and with the oppressive feeling that his life is no longer his own. To be fair, he’d been feeling like the walls were closing in, pressing him into submission, since the moment he received his draft notice, but this...this is different. The hell of this knowledge strokes awake a deep, dark sliver of him that has always believed his time here is destined to be limited, that no one should achieve his level of fame and success without paying a terrible price. But the worst is the horrible thought that perhaps it should’ve been him who was supposed to die in the womb and not Jesse, and that all this had been a mistake from the start. Some sort of cosmic joke.

No, God wouldn’t do that. God has a plan. He has to, he thinks, banishing the shameful thought back into the dark recesses of him mind from whence it came. A lump forms in his parched throat and he gulps, trying to get it down, trying to chase away the demons that threaten at the edges of his vision. Please God, please, he prays, though he’s not entirely sure what for. Perhaps the prayer begs to know that this is all one of his damn night terrors, or maybe it’s to chase away the horrors inside his mind that seek to consume him whole.

A small part of him is tempted to throw in the towel and to just fade into obscurity. Lord knows he’s already achieved more of his fair share of fame and fortune, more than most achieve in a lifetime. Maybe he should just live out the rest of his now-shortened life in peace and quiet. Start a family with one of his girls like his mama so desperately wanted. He realizes this is what she feared all along—like she’d had some sort of maternal premonition that he had been living on borrowed time from the start.

But that feels like a prison of another sort. No, he loves music too damn much, the way it tingles in his soul, clicking into place like the pieces of a complex puzzle that only he has the ability to complete, and the performing electrifies him in such an addictive and indescribable way that he can’t fathom trying to give it up. And beyond all that, he knows he’s got it in him to be a great actor if given the chance.

Quittin’ isn’t an option, he thinks, even if it kills me. Better to burn bright doin’ what I love rather than have nothin’ to live for.

Blood pounds at the inside of his skull like a ticking clock, his mind spinning with the fear and rage of it all. He is in no space to make these decisions, he realizes, but because so many want him to keep going, to keep working, to keep living, he knows what he’s gotta do.

Elvis finally nods his agreement, adding pointedly, “As long as I get a say in who she is. There’s gotta be chemistry for this to work.”

Dr. Paulson shakes his head and throws his hands in disbelief at this insane plan. “I think the most important thing is that she is competent, not her looks or ‘chemistry.’ Not to mention, she’ll have to be single and willing to give up her entire life to not only care for you 24/7 but to also pretend to be your girlfriend. I hope you have plenty of money to throw at this problem, Elvis.”

The Colonel grins wickedly. “I think you underestimate the power Elvis has over young ladies, Doctor. I have no doubt you’ll help us find someone suitable.”

“In the next few days? You must be joking,” Dr. Paulson huffs.

The stabbing pain behind Elvis’ eyes gets worse with these considerations brought to light. Yes, he does well with women, but the reality of any girl in her right mind agreeing to such conditions feels slim.

It feels serendipitous, then, that it happens to be this exact moment when you walk through the door.

“L-L-Little bird,” Elvis says, his nickname for you somehow, by the grace of God, popping into his muddled brain the instant he sees you. The name stutters from his lips almost in awe.

God has a plan.

The rest of the men turn in unison to stare at you. Elvis watches as you stop short, your intelligent sky-blue eyes going wide with surprise, annoyance, and apprehension at the intimidating scene before you.

Your mouth opens with a retort, then closes quickly at the strange silence that follows. The men take you in, from head to toe, as you stand frozen in the doorway like a deer in headlights.

After a moment, you seem to remember why you came in the first place, shaking off the uncomfortable gazes of the men and finally clear your throat to speak. “Excuse me, I didn’t realize…I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but Nurse Hunt sent me to find you, Dr. Paulson. She said it was urgent.”

Dr. Paulson, Vernon, and Colonel one by one turn their heads to look at Elvis. Colonel’s wicked little smile turns the corners of his mouth when he sees the way Elvis’ eyes take you in, a little bit of life returning to his pale cheeks.

Of course, Elvis liked you from the moment he’d laid eyes on you yesterday. With your deep brunette hair and stunningly big, bright blue eyes, you instantly piqued his interest, as you fit his usual type well. Your olive skin and striking features are different though, and remind him a bit of a young Sophia Loren, the beautiful Italian actress who he’d met on the movie studio lot a few years back.

In the looks department, you’d fit the role quite well.

The only problem he can see is that you’d made your distain for him quite clear last night.  

“I’ll be right there, Nurse,” Dr. Paulson finally says, realizing you were waiting for any sort of response beyond staring. Relieved, you scurry away as quickly as you’d arrived.

“What do we know about Nurse—” Colonel starts the moment you leave.

“Cannava,” Elvis and Dr. Paulson say in tandem. Elvis is surprised your name falls off his tongue so easily, especially with how clouded his memory is.

“She’s the youngest to ever graduate our program here at Bellevue, and for that itself she is a standout. But being so young, she is still relatively inexperienced despite her excellent training,” the doctor warns, and seeing the look on the Colonel’s face wanting more, he continues, “Beyond that, I’d have to ask around.”

“She’ll never do it,” Elvis interjects with disappointment. “She doesn’t like me much.”

“Nonsense, my boy, I’ve never seen you anything but persistent in your need and ability to win a woman over,” Colonel says encouragingly, patting Elvis’ hand. “And perhaps it will work in our favor in her ability to remain…professional around you. Use that winning charm of yours to win her over. That and a healthy sum she can’t refuse.”

Elvis doesn’t even know your first name, but he can’t help the fact that he’s been drawn to you since the moment you met. The little flutter of his heart, the revealing sign of his already budding infatuation, loves the idea of you being his.

But she won’t be mine, not really, he reminds himself.

Either way, it’s a challenge he’s not quite sure he’s up for in his weakened state, but time is running short, and he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s going to have to figure out a way to convince you this is a good idea.

“Find out everything you can,” Colonel orders the doctor, “and then bring her to me.”

What the Colonel wants, the Colonel gets.

And Elvis has the distinct feeling he’s already in over his head and is taking you with him, willing or not.

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