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darkshelbyfiction · 1 year ago

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The Nanny Diaries (Part Three)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dubious Consent, Smut

Inside the bathroom, you quickly cleaned your hands, trying desperately not to let anything show. Turning to Cillian, who had regained some composure, you prepared to leave the room quickly without being seen and, luckily for you, Lorna hadn't ventured farther upstairs by this point.

"I will come and see you in your room after my wife goes to sleep," Cillian proposed softly, sealing his lips over yours for a brief second before pressing his forehead against yours before he ushered you out of the bathroom discretely.

As you made your way back to your room, fear began to creep in once again. This whole encounter with Cillian was far beyond anything you thought possible for someone like you - fresh faced and virtuous.

Something like this was not supposed to happen. It wasn't fair that such dark desires existed deep within you, and they were now manifesting themselves in ways that would forever change the course of your life and, yet, you wanted more.

More of these intense encounters that stirred something primitive within you, despite the consequences that came along with them. The very idea scared you, and yet the allure persisted strongly enough to push away any reservations. It appeared as though you had entered a world where sexuality and sin intertwined, tearing apart your moral fabric piece by piece.

After dinner, you retreated to your room exhausted from today's events. Curling up underneath the covers, sleep eluded you as the evening wore on.

Disturbing thoughts ran rampant throughout your restless mind, tormenting you with images of Cillian and the deviant acts you partook in earlier. Closing your eyes, you tried in vain to silence those unwelcome visions. But instead, they only intensified. Each image brought about feelings of shame and desire that confused and terrified you until, at around midnight, your bedroom door opened quietly.

Stepping inside, Cillian closed the door behind him wordlessly, his presence alone speaking volumes.

His entrance caused your blood to race wildly through your veins, leaving your heart pounding in your chest. Unable to meet his gaze directly, you lowered your eyes in modesty. Naked save for a sheet covering your lower half, you sat awkwardly on the edge of your bed, still struggling to reconcile the conflicting emotions surging through you.

Seeing your nervous demeanor, Cillian took a seat beside you, carefully positioning himself closer.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward, nuzzling your neck softly while whispering endearments into your ear. "There's no need to be afraid," he assured you tenderly, running gentle fingers through your locks.

"We shouldn't be doing this..." you argued weakly, finding yourself unable to deny his advances even in light of your own doubts.

The smell of his cologne mixed with the faint traces of soap lingering on his skin enveloped you in an enticing aroma, drawing you deeper into the web of seduction he weaved around you.

"Don't worry," he reassured you gently, brushing a kiss against your cheekbone. "This doesn't make you a bad person." His words offered comfort, offering relief amidst the turmoil of your thoughts.

Unbidden tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to betray the fragile peace you were attempting to maintain. Swallowing hard, you fought back the urge to break down as his arms wrapped protectively around you.

"It's okay to feel this way," he whispered softly, rubbing circles on your back in a calming motion. "Guilt is normal but so is what you want, which is clearly something your boyfriend is not going to give you," he continued, slowly pulling you towards him.

Your resistance wavered momentarily as you allowed yourself to be consumed by his embrace. Burying your head into his shoulder, you mumbled a feeble apology for giving in. However, Cillian simply held you tighter, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

"Come on, lie down for me. I will make you feel better," suggested Cillian softly, guiding you onto the plush mattress beneath you. Reluctantly, you complied, allowing him to remove the thin cotton sheet that concealed your bare legs.

Exposing you fully, Cillian hoovered over you, trailing a finger across your thigh suggestively. With every stroke, goosebumps formed on your skin, a testament to your growing unease.

"Relax," he whispered softly, reaching up to brush strands of hair aside that fell over your face. As he did so, his fingertips grazed your exposed neck, causing shivers to run through your entire frame. "Just allow yourself to enjoy it," Cillian cooed, placing featherlight kisses along your jawline before, finally, kissing your lips softly. This action unleashed a whirlwind of emotions within you, bringing forth a mixture of guilt, desire, and helplessness as you wrestled with the notion of succumbing to temptation.

"Take a deep breath," Cillian encouraged gently, sensing your distress. As he pressed a slow, tantalising kiss upon your neck, you found yourself responding instinctually. Desire coursed through your body, leaving you achingly aware of how close he was to you.

He traced his tongue delicately along your throbbing pulse point, sending shards of passion piercing through your core. Breaking the spell briefly, he raised his head to look into your eyes.

"Cillian," you murmured hesitantly, searching for understanding within his eyes. "I don't know if this is right…" Your voice trailed off uncertainly. "My boyfriend will not forgive me for cheating on him," you admitted cautiously, a hint of anxiety laced in your tone.

"Trust me," he replied resolutely, cupping your face in his palms tenderly. "Nothing will happen. He will never find out," promised Cillian, stroking your hair lovingly. "Everything here stays between us," he added assuringly, running his hand down your side until reaching your hip.

"Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me," he requested smoothly, his voice filled with confidence. In response, you obeyed hesitantly, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation swirling within you. Slowly, Cillian moved closer, his cool hands skimming over your flesh, igniting sparks everywhere they touched. Every touch heightened your excitement levels, making it difficult to think clearly.

Running his fingers over your inner thigh, Cillian's movements grew bolder, igniting an inferno within you. Your breath hitched when he caressed your secret places, the heat radiating from his palm scorching your sensitive skin before, suddenly, he pushed two of his digits past your folds. You cried out involuntarily, startled by the new sensation filling you.

"Ssshhh, such a good girl," he admonished gently, moving his fingers rhythmically to match the tempo of your increasing breaths. Your body quivered under his ministrations, surrendering itself completely to the wave of pleasure washing over you.

With each passing minute, you became more and more lost in the depths of ecstasy that engulfed you.

Emboldened by your responsiveness, Cillian increased the intensity of his stimulation, knowing full well the extent of his influence over you.

"Your pussy is so wet for me already," he observed astutely, his thumb circling your clitoris expertly. Your moans echoed around the bedroom, resonating through the walls. Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, yearning for release.

"So small and tight... you really are a virgin," he mused aloud, amused by your lack of experience.

Despite your initial reluctance, the sensual atmosphere seemed to take hold of you, awakening newfound passions within. Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of arousal, your mind drifted away from reality, becoming fixated solely on the physical sensations assaulting your body.

"Fuck, I really want to put my cock inside you," he confided huskily, his breath hot against your ear, causing you to panic. "Would you let me do this to you?" he insisted gently, stroking your hair away from your face.

"Please," he implored persuasively, captivating you with his mesmerizing stare. "Just for a little bit," he continued.

"But it's wrong!" you protested weakly, battling with your conscience as you thought about your boyfriend and Lorna.

"Not if we just do it once," he claimed seductively, nibbling playfully on your neck. "I will just put it in for a little bit and if it hurts too much, I will pull it back out," he reassured you.

As his warm breath caressed your neck, a sense of longing overcame you. Torn between loyalty and lust, you struggled internally to decide whether to submit to his desires or stand firm in your convictions.

"Do you think that it will hurt a lot?" you asked timidly, breaking eye contact for fear of losing sight of reason.

"No, not a lot. It will only hurt a little bit when I first put it in," Cillian reassured you calmly, his fingers continuing to trace patterns over your skin. "And I promise you that I will be careful."

Avoiding eye contact, you nodded apprehensively, torn between curiosity and fear. "Okay, but just for a little bit," you agreed resignedly, a heavy weight settling on your shoulders.

Feeling emboldened by your consent, Cillian pulled your legs apart wider to grant easier access before pulling down his boxer shorts and exposing his rigid erection. Stroking your inner thigh with the tip of his manhood, he watched intently as your pupils dilated further at the sight of him.

"I need you to relax now," he commanded authoritatively, his voice carrying a note of determination. Gulping nervously, you complied, trying to still your trembling limbs.

His eyes bore into yours, conveying a level of control that made you question your decision. Nerves threatened to consume you, yet you reminded yourself that there would be no permanent damage done – this encounter would remain secret forever.

As he positioned himself in between your spread legs, his intent gaze captured yours, searing straight through your soul.

"Try not to make too much noise when my cock goes in. The door doesn't lock completely, and we don't want Lorna to walk in on us," warned Cillian, punctuating his statement with a slight tap of his index finger against your chin. Fearful of the consequences, you nodded fervently, promising silence.

"Okay. I will try to be quiet," you agreed nervously, your heart racing rapidly in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took several deep breaths, attempting to steady your erratic pulse.

"Good girl. That's it, just breathe in and out deeply," he instructed gently, holding your chin while maintaining eye contact. His touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, amplifying your trepidation.

Nervously, you followed his advice, focusing all your energy on controlling your breath. Meanwhile, Cillian prepared himself meticulously by stroking his cock and aligning it with your virgin hole.

"I will fuck you bare, alright? It will feel better that way," Cillian announced with a hint of authority, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

"I am not on the pill though," you revealed hesitantly, glancing away momentarily due to embarrassment.

"Don't worry. I won't cum inside you. I will pull out," Cillian said, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Okay..." you mumbled nervously, your mouth dry despite your attempts to stay composed.

Lifting his hips slightly, he aligned his erect member perfectly with your entrance, teasing you with the exquisite pressure building beneath you. His fingers left your skin as he grasped his length determinedly, his expression intense with purpose.

The room seemed to spin wildly around you as you lay flat on your back, your whole world reduced to the man looming over you, poised to enter you.

"Good girl, now hold still for me," Cillian demanded sternly as he began to push inward, causing you tense up.

"Relax and allow my cock to stretch you slowly," he soothed softly, rubbing gentle circles across your lower abdomen. "It might hurt a little at first, but after a minute or two it will be fine."

Trembling, you forced yourself to relax, allowing him entry as, slowly but surely, he broke your hymen with his penetration. As pain shot through your body, tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. But, fighting them back valiantly, you held onto the hem of the duvet sheet covering the bed, digging your fingers into it to distract yourself from the discomfort.

"Ssshh, it's okay. Let it go, I am half-way in," whispered Cillian soothingly, placing his other hand lightly on top of yours, which were squeezing the sheet tightly. Gradually, you released your grip, succumbing to the pain, which quickly gave way to a strange, unfamiliar feeling - the invasion of something foreign yet tantalising, pushing deeper and deeper into your body.

"Is it supposed to feel like this?" you managed to ask haltingly, finding it hard to concentrate amidst the haze of pleasure and pain-induced confusion. "This feels different, strange almost…", you trailed off uncertainly, your brow furrowing with uncertainty.

"It does," admitted Cillian, his tone somewhat detached from the subject matter as he looked down to where his cock was buried within you, his expression enigmatic.

He rocked his hips subtly, letting you adjust to the size and angle of his organ. You winced again as another rush of pain hit you, prompting a sharp gasp from your lips as a small amount of blood trickled out from between your parted labia.

The sight of the crimson liquid elicited a visceral reaction from Cillian, whose eyes flared with hunger whereas your eyes filled with concern.

"Don't worry. It's normal, sweetheart," he murmured reassuringly, pulling out momentarily to wipe away the traces of blood with a tissue.

Your cheeks flushed bright red as you tried to mask your shame behind a facade of nonchalance. "Maybe we should stop," you suggested cautiously, the words coming out as a faint whisper.

"Just a little longer, please. Trust me," pleaded Cillian earnestly, his hands resting tenderly on your hips. "You will get used to having my cock inside you. I promise," he reassured.

"Okay," you conceded finally, closing your eyes and bracing yourself mentally as he lined himself up with your sore opening. With both hands placed gently on either side of your waist, he pushed forward once more, causing a wave of pain to course through your body.

"Almost there, just bear with it," encouraged Cillian, his rhythmic thrusts making it increasingly difficult for you to focus on anything else besides the burning sensation.

"You are opening up for me now. I can feel it," noted Cillian approvingly, a smirk playing on his lips as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Swept along by the rhythm of Cillian's movements, your walls gradually yielded to his relentless advance, creating an entirely new sensation.

"There! That's it," exclaimed Cillian triumphantly, pausing briefly to savor the milestone achieved together.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to cradle your head.

"Yes... it hurts less now," you replied honestly, marveling at how quickly time had passed since your initial resistance.

"Great, then turn around. I will take you from behind," requested Cillian huskily, turning you onto your knees and leaning you over the edge of the large bed. Your body felt alien underneath him, unaccustomed to such treatment, your mind racing wildly, unsure what was expected of you. But your instincts kicked in, guiding you effortlessly into the desired pose without protest, your back arched gracefully.

As you knelt facing the foot of the bed, Cillian mounted behind you, his arms encircling your waist possessively.

Positioning his thick shaft at your wet entrance, he eased himself inside you tentatively, ensuring you were ready for the fullness of his rod. The sudden invasion caused you to jerk involuntarily, causing him to pause and let out a low groan, his frame straining with desire.

"This looks so good. Sweet and tight. Just perfect," complimented Cillian huskily, tracing his thumb leisurely along your exposed shoulder blade. Embarrassed by his comment, you blushed profusely, struggling to hide your feelings of self-consciousness.

Undeterred, Cillian continued his assault, alternating between shallow thrusts and deep plunges, causing you to squirm deliciously in response. Each stroke sent shockwaves throughout your entire body, leaving you utterly spellbound.

"Your pussy is so red and swollen around my cock, it makes me crazy!" growled Cillian huskily, his voice resonating through your body like a dark caress. Unnerved by his graphic description, you struggled to find your own voice in reply.

"It feels so weird now. So deep. It's so strange," you confided candidly, clutching the sheets beneath you as his pace quickened with abandon. The intensity of his force made your muscles quiver with delight, heightening your awareness of every nerve ending alive and vibrant.

His heavy breaths reverberated around you, echoing off the walls like a mantra of arousal. Unable to contain himself any longer, Cillian grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, pushing you further onto the bed until you were lying flat on your belly.

Spreading your legs wide apart, he positioned himself directly above you, hovering ominously close. Bending forward, he kissed your neck softly before nipping playfully at your flesh, sending thrilling sensations through your core.

"Fuck I really want to fill your sore little hole with my cum," confessed Cillian hoarsely, grazing his teeth against your earlobe. Shivering with anticipation, you felt a surge of excitement rise within you, urging you closer towards climax.

Writhing underneath him, you twisted your hips suggestively, inviting his cock to slide in and out. Every smooth glide intensified the fire growing within you, your inner walls pulsing rhythmically around his thick rod.

Picking up the tempo, Cillian took control of your rhythm, driving your bodies closer to ecstasy.

"Please let me cum inside you tonight," begged Cillian, his voice ragged with need. Gripped by the urgency of his request, you nodded silently, signaling acquiescence.

Satisfied, he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, pressing ever closer to release.

"Oh God, oh fuck yes, you're amazing," he groaned passionately, unable to suppress his fervor.

Every powerful surge triggered tremors through your body, igniting a fierce desire for completion.

"Y/N, cum for me," ordered Cillian harshly, punctuating his words with deep, deliberate thrusts. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his demand, you surrendered to the all-consuming tide of emotion.

Reaching orgasm simultaneously, both of you cried out loudly, the explosive eruption of pleasure searing through your veins, transforming you irrevocably.

"Fuck, yes," screamed Cillian, burying his face in your sweaty hair. His hot seed burst forth from his throbbing member, painting your insides with his semen, claiming you wholly as his conquest. Pumping his last drops into you, he pulled out and glanced at your swollen lips, still throbbing in post-orgasmic bliss, oozing his seed stained with streaks of blood. His fingers dipped briefly into the stickiness of his spent seed before withdrawing, wiping them clean on the sheets beside you. His gaze locked with yours, penetrating right through you. "We're going to do this again soon."

A sense of dread settled over you at his chilling prediction. How could you possibly continue when things had already gone too far? Closing your eyes to shut out the truth, you shook your head slightly to dismiss his statement. "No. We shouldn't," you responded weakly, unwilling to accept reality.

"I think we should," argued Cillian persuasively, his hand gently stroking your cheek. "If you don't want to, that's fine. But remember, I am here if you change your mind later," Cillian told you before standing up.

Stretching languidly, he walked toward the bathroom adjacent to your room, giving you a chance to process everything that happened. You lay there motionless on the bed, numb to the world outside of this room.

When Cillian returned from the bathroom, he sat down next to you on the bed, observing your silence.

"So, what do you think?" he ventured carefully, trying to gauge your mood.

"I think that what we did was very wrong," you admitted quietly, lowering your gaze.

"That may be true, but you enjoyed it," countered Cillian defiantly, attempting to break through your fragile defense mechanisms.

"I did enjoy it, which makes it even worse because I know it wasn't right," you answered solemnly, feeling conflicted about your newly discovered desires.

Cillian looked at you sympathetically, understanding where you were coming from. "Look, Y/N, everyone enjoys doing things that aren't necessarily morally correct sometimes and, like I said, it doesn't make you a bad person," he explained patiently.

He reached over and cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"It's just sex, nothing more," he whispered firmly, seeking to convince both of you while trailing his fingers over your naked skin.

"It was my first time, and I should have done it with my boyfriend back home," you murmured apologetically, looking away shamefully. Cillian paused momentarily, contemplating your words. "But you also wanted this," he reminded you gently, brushing aside the notion of guilt.

Unable to deny the temptation any longer, you found yourself nodding in agreement. "Yes, I did," you divulged hesitantly understanding fully well the consequences before telling Cillian that he should probably go back to bed before Danielle was coming to look for him.

"Before I go, can I have another glance at your pussy," he asked smirkingly. This caught you off guard and filled you with confusion. On one hand, you didn't wish to engage in anything else sexual that night but at the same time, you couldn't help admitting that part of you longed for the touch of Cillian once more.

"I guess..." you muttered uncertainly, allowing him to guide you towards the center of the bed. Once there, he removed the blanket from you, beneath which you lay naked.

"Spread your legs," commanded Cillian authoritatively, watching intently as you obeyed and, as soon as you opened your legs, Cillian saw some blood streaked cum oozing from your tender slit.

"God that looks hot", he grunted approvingly, running his tongue slowly across his bottom lip, his eyes feasting on the sight before him before he placed two fingers onto folds in order to make your once virgin hole gape.

"Can you push some cum out of your hole for me? asked Cillian provocatively, leaning over you for better view. His tone carried an air of authority mixed with sheer possessiveness, making you feel small and helpless yet strangely excited.

Without questioning him, you obliged, closing your eyes and tensing your muscles, gathering all your strength to exert pressure from below.

As you pushed, a trickle of fluid emerged from your slippery passageway.

Cillian watched, mesmerized by the show, capturing the essence of submission in your eyes. Seeing this display of obedience fueled his ego, reinforcing his belief that he held complete control over you. "Good girl," he praised you, his voice dripping with satisfaction before giving you a kiss goodnight.

#cillian murphy #cilliean murphy smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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ghcstao3 · 5 months ago

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I am absolutely begging to hear more about the ghost soap DBH au, it's so cool. I will literally take anything you're willing to share

(X) ask and ye shall receive >:) i’ve already been considering writing a second full fic of a dbh au because i am. so normal. lots of rambling ahead

but for this specific AU (cw for abuse, alcoholism, mentions of death/murder) soap used to be a personal assistant android for a young, rich ceo—both at work and at home. at work, he’d do everything his function was meant for: schedule meetings, store files, , send emails, all sorts of administration. but at home, said ceo had a habit of drinking his nights away, and when he did he got angry, and suddenly soap had become his personal punching bag.

soap couldn’t run away, couldn’t quit, like the man’s previous human assistant. soap wouldn’t bruise or scratch, and anything broken was easy to repair quickly and discreetly, so it’s more than easy for the man to get away with.

when the android murders start, soap is immediately privy to it. it’s all people whisper about in the office, it’s all his boss—his owner—talks about in his drunken slurring, demeaning soap and saying he couldn’t manage that if he tried. he’s spineless, mindless as an android is meant to be. soap would never be free.

soap can’t really pinpoint his final straw, but one night he snaps. breaks through that barrier of code and fights back instead of take, take, take like he has for all these years. shoves the man away and makes sure he stays down. grabs a throw pillow from the nearby sofa and holds it over the man’s head until he goes limp; soap doesn’t care whether or not he’s dead, just that he can now escape. he digs the LED out of his temple and shoves it in his pocket, and wanders aimlessly until he remembers an address he’d once heard murmurings of, where soap could get help.

he can’t say he immediately trusts the human that greets him—a man by the name of manuel roba—but there’s some relief in seeing the android that accompanies him. the android, ghost, is bigger than most every-day androids, so soap assumes he must’ve been military or security before everything. still, soap relaxes ever so slightly in his presence.

soap doesn’t know how he goes from being told he’ll receive help to having himself set up for a full reset, trapped in roba’s grimy basement, but it’s then he feels immediately betrayed by ghost. he hardly knows the other android, but why couldn’t he have been warned? why would ghost be okay with this?

then soap is confused, when roba has turned and left and ghost lingers a moment longer before approaching soap, latching onto his wrist and transmitting a message: i can’t help you now, so i need you to escape. i know you can escape.

before soap can question him, ghost has slipped away and disappeared along with roba.

it doesn’t soften the betrayal, exactly, but the encouragement is worth enough for soap to make the effort to wriggle free. and he manages, tears the cables from where they’re connected to him, destroys the computer for good measure, and makes a run for it. it’s in escaping he finds the experiments, androids picked apart and reformed with new limbs, new additions, left with missing components. he frees them, even knowing they likely wouldn’t make it far.

the front door is locked, of course, so soap scours the house for another way out. he’s cautious enough, until he isn’t, and suddenly roba has the barrel of a shotgun fixed on his face. then just as suddenly, said barrel is being aimed back at roba, wielded by ghost. they’re locked in a standstill when the freed androids from the basement burst in through the door and clamber after roba. soap and ghost run away in the meantime, taking roba’s car and driving far away.

“why did you save me?” soap eventually asks.

“i don’t know,” is ghost’s honest answer. “but i had to.”

through more prodding is how soap learns where they’re going: a place called jericho, a refuge of only androids, one that’s been growing in size and power. ghost could sense neither of them would want to turn and leave behind the fight, so they’d join the cause instead. soap can’t say he’s displeased by this.

they commit themselves to the protests. commit themselves to sending a message, to fighting for their autonomy. gradually ghost wins back soap’s trust, and in turn they become good friends. an odd sensation soap can’t name forms at the heart of his code.

it isn’t until ghost is shot during their final battle does soap realize what it is—something humans call love. a profound sense of devotion different to the care between friends.

soap drags him to safety. desperately begs him to be okay, does his best to staunch the leaking of thirium. it’s in the nick of time another android or two intervenes and helps save ghost. death, soap is almost certain, means either complete reset or thrown in the landfill, where androids go to truly die. and he couldn’t keep on living, if either thing were to happen to ghost.

once rebooted, recalibrated, soap kisses ghost. transmits everything he feels through that contact, shares his memories and thoughts and in turn ghost does the same.

and though it may take some time—now they can finally start anew without living in fear. they can build a life together freely, and isn’t that all either of them could ever ask for.

#ask #sorry for so many words i love dbh aus #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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eirenical · 8 months ago

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Mysterious Lotus Casebook | Lian Hua Lou | 莲花楼 | Episodes 3 & 9 - The Letter

There is so much we don't know about what happened ten years ago between Sigumen and Jinyuanmeng. A lot of it gets unraveled as the show goes on, but one thing remains true: there is a hell of a lot of unreliable narration to pick through to get to the truth. And when it comes to the particular truths of what happened between the individual people involved, that becomes even more true.

And one of the little mysteries that always bothered me was this letter that Qiao Wanmian wrote to Li Xiangyi to break up with him. Because I absolutely could not figure out when he actually got that letter. Anyway, I finally caught a few details that helped me to tease that apart and my first realization was that he fucking LEFT HER ON 'READ' for about a month (Li XIangyi, PLEASE OTZ) and the second realization was that we get two different versions of these events YET AGAIN, but this time both from Li Xiangyi's POV in flashbacks, and I'm CHEWING GLASS OVER IT, so naturally I have to share.

So the first time we get this particular flashback is in episode 3. Li Lianhua is remembering the aftermath of the Donghai Battle, how he fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore... a husk of what he had once been.

He wakes up and makes his way into town and to Sigumen's steps, overhearing all this terrible news as he walks. People injured, homes destroyed, people killed, and so much of the blame being placed on all the sects, and on Sigumen in particular. And as he walks, you can see it all starting to weigh him down, until he's literally bent over from the weight of it on his back.

And then the final betrayal. His people, his friends, want to disband the sect. They want to walk away. They blame him and his hubris for this disaster. And the coup-de-grace is Xiao Zijin asking Qiao Wanmian... "You don't like this place either, right?"

And the sad look on Qiao Wanmian's face finally breaks Li XIangyi of his paralysis and he turns away, back to the scene unfolding on those steps and drifts back to the shore, where he ultimately collapses.

And that's all we get.

We know he returned to Sigumen. We know he overheard them wanting to disband the sect. We know he left without a word. And that's the end of the story as far as Episode 3 is concerned.

But this makes sense. Li LIanhua is mid-Bicha attack and has just left Fang Duobing on the side of the road when this flashback comes on. He's fighting his own body in a desperate bid for survival to complete the one task he's set himself and Fang Duobing has just dredged up all this stuff and gone off on a tear about how he's Li Xiangyi's disciple. A road Li Xiangyi never got a chance to walk. Another person he failed along the way. And so he's focused on all the ways in which he is a failure in that moment, all the ways he doesn't live up to Fang Duobing's hero, Li XIangyi, all the ways that he is no longer that man. So he zeroes in on the moment he lost it all: his reputation, his sect, his health, his power. So that's the part of the flashback that we get.

But in Episode 9, we have an entirely different set of circumstances. He's just saved his A-mian. He's focused on helping her let go of the man he thinks she still loves. He's putting himself aside to focus solely on her (or so he thinks—that's honestly a question for later, but bear with me, we'll get there ;D) and what she needs. And we get dumped into this flashback again.

Only this time it doesn't start on the beach. It starts here:

It starts with Li Xiangyi seeing his sect disbanded again. Only this time, he remembers the words that come from Xiao Zijin differently:

There's no speaking out load of "you hate it here too, don't you?" or any similar sentiment. Because at this point, Li Lianhua knows this isn't true. She can't hate it there. She lives there. She didn't leave. And she doesn't hate him because she very obviously misses him and mourns him. So in his mind, he gives this moment a little less abrasiveness. A little less fierceness. But because he's so focused on A-Mian in this memory, we finally find out that there is an entire piece to this incident that we haven't gotten until now.

A-Mian's grief.

A-Mian's recognition that he was there.

And the letter.

The letter she wrote a month ago.

A letter Li Xiangyi NEVER READ.

We get to see A-Mian's regret. We get to see her grief: both for her own sense of shame at being unable to keep up with the man she loved, and her sense of loss over her own innocence and the opportunities that they'll never have now to make amends. And we get to see her break from her grief for just a moment to rush down those stairs because some instinct in her just won't quit.

Li Xiangyi had returned.

And she knew.

But it was too late. She no longer trusted herself. And Li Xiangyi, having heard her outpouring of grief, had already decided that he owed it to her and to everyone else to just… walk out of their lives for good.

And he did.

But he owed her one last thing first.

He owed it to her to read the letter that she'd written him a month ago and he'd never opened.

So before he goes back to that beach, he returns to his rooms in Sigumen to retrieve that unopened letter and read it.

On first watch, I had assumed this was after his healing with Monk Wuliao. That he was RE-reading that letter, not reading it for the first time. But these are clearly his rooms in Sigumen. The desk he conducts business from is at the bottom right and the table he confronts Shand Gudao from is on the left. But unlike when we usually see these rooms, brightly lit during the day, they're now mostly in darkness, the sun clearly setting given the angle of the light coming into the room. This is the sunset of Li Xiangyi. The last moments of his life, in a way.

And the letter is very VERY obviously unopened when he first takes it out:

And reading that letter is the final nail in Li Xiangyi's coffin, I think. Final proof that he'd failed in every aspect of his life: being a brother, being a lover, being a sect leader, being a friend, being a student. After this, he leaves Sigumen and goes back to that beach to lay down where he washed back up initially, ready to let the death he temporarily escaped take him away. And when the monk saves his life anyway, he still manages to kill off the part of him that was Li Xiangyi. Li Xiangyi is dead, he insists over and over and over again, until he believes it himself.

Because in that letter—a letter he left unread FOR A MONTH—Qiao Wanmian manages to show him that he never really saw her at all. That he never saw one of his dearest loved ones in pain right in front of him—pain that he finally witnessed on the steps of Sigumen as she poured out her grief and regret in sending this letter to begin with. How ironic then, that a letter she'd sent intending to set him free of her to fly up to the heights on his own, was the final arrow that brought him down. I don't think that's what she would have wanted at all.

But I really feel for her. I do.

Just imagine sending this letter and knowing that it's sitting in Li Xiangyi's mail pile somewhere… and assuming that he read it and that's what spurred him on to this last desperate fight. Because in that outpouring on the steps that clearly what she thought she did. She thought this letter sent him to his death. And in that moment she's wrong, because HE NEVER READ IT. Not until long after that. Not until after this moment. And fucking HELL, but that just hurts me.

Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if he hadn't witnessed that moment. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if he hadn't read that letter. Maybe he still would have felt that he'd failed enough to warrant death of some kind.

But maybe not.

I guess we'll never know.

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phoenixkaptain · 2 years ago

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Thinkin about Su Xiyan, Tianlang-jun, and Luo Binghe again…

Su Xiyan who was forced into doing things and who desperately didn’t want to betray Tianlang-jun and who drank poison so she could see him again and warn him only to find out that she was far too late. And she gave birth to a little baby boy and instead of tossing him overboard into the water or letting him freeze, she wrapped him in her own robes to send him down the river. She must’ve been hoping he’d live, right? She must’ve been desperately longing for her child to live. She must’ve been so tired. She looked back on those times when she and Tianlang-jun would tease and flirt with each other and despite everything, she must’ve felt so terribly, terribly alone.

Tianlang-jun, who begins as a legitimately almost pure-hearted maiden. He likes to bounce around the human realm and play their songs and read their stories and spend way too much money until he’s broke. And he falls so hard for Su Xiyan. He falls so hard for her, to the point that he brings her up constantly and he asks Zhuzhi-Lang whether or not he’s handsome and he trusts her and trusts her and trusts her… only for everything to be torn apart. Only to be buried under a mountain and stuck thinking that Su Xiyan is the one who caused all of it. Barely even able to mourn for everything he’s lost.

It isn’t like the world is kind to them after everything. Tianlang-jun is painted as a monster who was on the verge of storming the human realm. Su Xiyan is badmouthed the moment people find out that she was pregnant with Tianlang-jun’s child. No matter what she does, she can’t win. If she betrayed her sect for Tianlang-jun, then she was a traitor who was seduced by a demon. If she betrayed Tianlang-jun for her sect, then she was a horrible mother and terrible woman. If she tried to kill her unborn child, she’s unfit to be called a woman. If she tried to save him, she brought an unholy abomination into the world. She just can’t win.

And of course Luo Binghe’s supposed to be tragic. Of course his story is supposed to be sad. But he’s so desperate for any hint of affection and he’s told to his face that he’s an unholy abomination and his father doesn’t seem to care about him and his mother tried to abort him and it’s so easy to feel all alone. It’s so easy for him to feel like he doesn’t fit anywhere, because he’s both human and demon, which means he’s neither human nor demon.

The part that always makes me tear up is when Luo Binghe tries to merge the two realms together. He’s so desperate. He’s so broken. He doesn’t know what to do and he only knows that he doesn’t want to be left behind. He says that nobody has ever chosen him. He says that it would be fine even if Shen Qingqiu hated him, as long as he didn’t toss him aside.

And it’s awful! This family is awful! It’s so sad! It’s too sad! Su Xiyan chose Luo Binghe before anyone else did. Su Xiyan chose to save him, chose to try and keep him warm and dry. Even at the cost of her own life, she chose him! And she chose him because she loved Tianlang-jun! She basically poisoned herself trying to keep the only thing she had left of Tianlang-jun alive! Tianlang-jun says that Luo Binghe looks like her. Tianlang-jun can’t even be angry or sad when he mentions her, he just goes blank, until he finds out that she really wanted to save him and he can’t help but love her all over again! Tianlang-jun looks at Luo Binghe and Luo Binghe is proof that Su Xiyan loved him!

Luo Binghe realizes that he hurt Shen Qingqiu and he’s more than horrified. All he’s ever wanted to do is be strong enough that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have to get hurt saving him anymore, but all he ever seem to accomplishe is hurting Shen Qingqiu himself. He tries to learn demonic cultivation to get stronger and he gets pushed into the Endless Abyss. He tries to learn spiritual cultivation and Shen Qingqiu dies in his arms. He tries to keep Shen Qingqiu’s body in perfect condition so that he can bring hin back to life, only for the body to be stolen out from under him twice. He asks, again and again, for Shen Qingqiu to choose him, and he never gets chosen.

But, you can’t actually blame Shen Qingqiu. Because all of those scenes of him not choosing Luo Binghe ARE him choosing Luo Binghe! He chooses Binghe and Binghe’s safety everytime, he just never realizes that he himself is necessary for Binghe to be safe. And why would he assume that? He hurt Binghe and he feels like he can’t be forgiven for it, to the point that all of his suffering is him punishing himself.

Luo Binghe in the wedding extra asks Shen Qingqiu to marry him and he’s so nervous beforehand that he literally trips. He stutters. And even after he asks, he tells Shen Qingqiu not to answer, because he can’t listen to the answer, he can’t listen to Shen Qingqiu turn him aside again and he contents himself with thinking that even if they aren’t married, Shen Qingqiu has indulgently allowed him to follow wherever he goes, and that’s enough.

So when Shen Qingqiu does say yes, it’s emotional. He’s shocked. And even as he pulls out all the stops for the “wedding,” I don’t think Luo Binghe is actually convinced that Shen Qingqiu meant it until the next day, when Shen Qingqiu calls him “Husband” without even being asked. I think that’s the moment it hit him. Shen Qingqiu chose him.

We start the novels by hearing a basic outline of PIDW, which starts with Su Xiyan choosing Luo Binghe. We end the novels with Shen Qingqiu choosing Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe finally, finally understands what it feels like to be loved.

Meng Mo and the Huan Hua Palace Master want Luo Binghe as their student because he’s powerful and capable and, in the Palace Master’s case, he reminds him of Su Xiyan. His wives, it’s somewhat strongly implied, mostly wanted him for sex and what he could do for them. Nobody ever really befriends Luo Binghe at any point. He’s always standing apart from others. He’s never part of the Huan Hua disciples and he stands out amongst the Cang Qiong sect disciples and he stands out among demons and he stands out among humans and

And he finally stands with Shen Qingqiu. He’s finally not alone. He’s finally someone’s first choice. He finally feels like someone’s first choice.

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heartsfrommeg · 1 year ago

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i. old friends

a/n: this is my first story on here so hopefully it goes well, but enjoy!! <3 also sorry if there’s any grammar mistakes😭

warnings: language, mention of scar

w/c: 1.5k

next chapter: memories

okay let’s do this one more time. i’m (y/n) (l/n). i was bitten by a radioactive spider, but it wasn’t just any spider. it was a poecilotheria metallica, also known as a peacock tarantula. because of the spider i got bitten by, i have special web powers. but for the past 2 years i’ve been the one and only spider-woman aka spi-tallica of my universe. but you know how it goes. you save people, you lose people, you love people, you make mistakes with people. you save the city over and over. you know, normal spider-woman stuff. i guess you could say i like being spi-tallica.

there was eight spider people cooped up in a apartment who belonged to one of them, hobie brown. they were all talking about a plan to save miles.

“is there anyone we could try asking to see if they would be willing to help? because if miguel was right and there’s a universe without a spiderman, that most likely means miles is in it. and who knows how dangerous that place is.” gwen said, arms crossed. “i mean their could possibly be a someone..” penni said. “who?” gwen asked.

“she’s known as spi-tallica.” penni replied, making hobies attention go immediately towards the girl. “no.” hobie suddenly said, which made everyone look at him. “and why not??” gwen asked. “none of your damn business. just no.” hobie then walked out the front door, slamming it.

“i’m gonna assume they did not really like each other.” pavitr said, gwen nodding in agreement. “quite the opposite, actually.” peter b. parker said. “they were really close in fact. everyone in hq thought they were a thing. they were always on missions together, always around each other.” peter b. continued.

“but then something happened between miguel and spi-tallica, forcing her to leave hq. and i’m sure hobie blames himself for half of it.” gwen and pavitr looked at each other then back at peter b. like he was crazy. “wait wait wait, so you’re telling me hobie had a little crush?” pavitr said. everyone except gwen nodded at him.

“wait so what happened between her and miguel?” gwen asked. peter b. sighed then started explaining. “she was sort of like miles. she wanted to save her universe. and you know how miguel is, he is against all that stuff. but she attempted to save her universe, and miguel obviously found out and scolded her for it. they argued about it for a good 30 minutes. but she said something to him that pushed it too far and he lashed out, putting a scar across her face. he then told her to leave and not come back, so that’s what she did. and nobody has seen her since. and hobie could never go to see how she was doing because miguel made sure of it. if there was a mission in that universe, hobie was forbidden to go.”

everyone then heard the door close and there hobie was, standing in the doorway. the room was dead silent, all you heard was the noises from outside. hobie sighed and walked down the hall into a room. “i’ll be back.” peter b. said then went after hobie.

once peter b. reached the room, he knocked on the open door to let hobie know he was there. hobie was on his bed, fiddling with his guitar. peter b. took this as a sign to come in since hobie didn’t tell him to get lost. the older male then went to go sit at the edge of hobie’s bed. “what do you want mate.” hobie asked, eyes not moving from his guitar.

“you know it wasn’t your fault, right?” hobie looked up from his guitar and at peter b. he noticed that hobie had tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall. hobie barely showed emotion so this was a rare sight to see. “i’m sorry to say it like this but you and i both know it’s true, but she was bound to get kicked out eventually. i mean looked who she hanged with all the time.” that made hobie slightly smile to himself as he went back to tuning his guitar.

“if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s miguel’s. and we all know that. but we might actually need her for this. we don’t know who or what we’re up against. this universe were fixing to enter doesn’t have anyone to protect citizens from osborn, the prowler, and other villains.”

“it won’t hurt to kill another osborn if it comes down to it.” hobie said. his voice was low but peter b. heard. “hobie, that’s not the point.”

hobie then tossed his guitar beside him and looked at peter b. “what if she thinks it’s my fault or some shit?? i never had the chance to properly talk to her after that because of that stupid piece of shit. the last time i saw her she had blood trickling down the side of damn her face and was crying her eyes out mate!” peter b. looked at him with a sad expression. “well you don’t know that unless you talk to her. and now you have the option to.”

hobie sighed then nodded. “yeah, i guess you’re right.” peter b. smiled at him. “see! now that’s the spirit!” hobie rolled his eyes and got up, slinging his guitar over his shoulder then walking to the main room with peter b.

“you okay?” spider-byte asked. hobie nodded then opened up a portal. “i guess we have a new recruit to ask. now come on before i change my mind.” hobie said. everyone quickly got up and went into the portal.

i was swinging around the city, like i usually do, just waiting for something exciting to happen. i then spotted a man running away with a lady’s purse. i rolled my eyes as i webbed over to the man and snatched the purse up. “sorry buddy, this doesn’t belong to you.” i then webbed him up and returned the purse to the lady. “thank you.” the lady said with a smile. “of course!” i replied then went back to the criminal and brought him to the police station.

as soon as i got to the station, i just dropped the guy off at the front door of the station and smiled at the policemen in the lobby. as much as i don’t like the police that much because they don’t know how to do their job, i still try to keep peace with them. i then left and swung from building to building, grabbing some food on the way. i finally rested on top of one and observed the city.

my spider senses then went off towards something that was near me. i went towards the thing my senses detected me to and saw a portal. it was weird looking, but was most definitely a portal. it honestly reminded me of hobie but i didn’t let that get to me. i got my webs ready for whatever was to come out of that portal. i saw about seven figures walk out and wrapped them up in my webs. once the portal disappeared, i realized it was spider people. i recognized all of them except two. i decided to hop down and investigate, assuming it had something to do with miguel.

as soon as i reached their level i circled them, taking in each of their features. i noticed one of them wasn’t hobie which kinda disappointed me but i wasn’t really surprised. “hey (y/n)!” peter b. said. “what does miguel want you guys to do now? like literally why is there seven of you??” i asked, genuinely curious. “seven?? there’s supposed to be eight! one, two, three.. damn it don’t tell me he bailed!” peter b. said. “nah, i didn’t bail mate. i just know when she’s gonna web someone up. i’ve been up here the whole time.” a voice suddenly said, making me look up. i saw another spiderman, but he had spikes on his mask and a jean jacket on. i smiled knowing exactly who it was. “he finally let you come punk?” i asked the boy on the building above me. “nah love, we all dipped. but we do need your help.” he said then jumped down to my level.

i was honestly shocked he was here. he looked the same costume wise but who knows what he looks like under that mask. i stared at the boy for a second before hugging him, which he immediately returned. “um, sorry for the interruption but can we be released now?” a voice said. i looked over at them, “oh yeah, sorry about that!” i then quickly untied them. “we should be lucky you didn’t use your special webs.” spider noir said. “that’s only for emergencies. you know that. but who’s the new faces?”

“oh yeah, this is pavitr and gwen!” peter b. said, hands motioning towards the new faces. i greeted myself then turned back to the others. “we should probably head back to my place so people don’t start asking questions about why they’re so many spider people.” i said, laughing. i then led the way to my place, the others following along.

#spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you

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luminary-vazre · 5 months ago

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On SOTE's lore

While my personal interpretation of SOTE's lore might not matter to people I still want to have it written down for posterity's sake (and so I can link to this rather than try to explain it every time I bring it up.) Marika Shadow of the Erdtree goes into Marika's backstory quite heavily- and it explains her actions. I've seen others saying it's trying to justify it, but I fully believe it's not. It's explaining without condoning. We can understand WHY Marika acted the way she did, even if we still fully believe what she did was wrong.

Marika escapes the hell the Hornsent put her and her people through, and through some twisted act of fate (Perhaps organized by Metyr, since we know the greater will doesn't interact directly with the lands between often if at all) ascends to divinity through the Divine Gate.

She then returns home, only to find her people gone. Extinct, save for her- and she's not exactly a person, anymore.

The crosses of Miquella show us the route Miquella took to godhood. It's explicitly described as agonizing to make those crosses, to tear parts of himself away- to remove what made him human(ish, I'm not exactly sure how different an Empyrean is from a human.) and... Marika took this same route to ascension. She had to do this same thing. To tear her body apart, to remove her love, her doubt, her fear- everything that would have kept her in check once she became a god. Everything that could have held back her ambitions. And, like Miquella discarding St Trina, she must have tossed away Radagon.

It is little wonder that once she became a divinity, retribution was not far behind her. There was nothing but ambition, and the memory of the hornsent's cruelty, left of her by then.

The Minor Erdtree miracle found in Marika's home describes it as her first miracle. If we got Crosses of Marika like we got crosses of Miquella, I'm positive this would be the spot that says 'here I leave my love.'

Marika wanted to save everyone from the hornsent- her people couldn't be saved, they were already gone. But she could create a new order, one without the barbarity of the Hornsent's actions. Without the horrible butchery and the jar gaols.

But... in the end, you have to protect your order. And without her kindness, her doubt, her love, her compassion.. all things she left behind on her path to godhood, Marika became a cold, calculating, absolutely and totally dedicated ruler. She would accept no threat to her order's existence, and in doing so, she became the very monster she set out to prevent from happening again.

Again, we now understand, but not condone, her actions against Mohg and Morgott. The Omen were holy to the hornsent, chosen by their gods. Marika, having survived the Hornsent's cruelty, only to see the signs of their gods in her children- it's not hate that drove her to hide the twins away, it was fear. Fear that they were chosen by the hornsent's cruel gods. It does not in any way make what she did to them OK or right, but it explains why she did it.

Marika paved the road to hell in her good intentions- and then, once she was done, and the crusade began, she set about tearing the paving up so no one could follow her. She had Belarut burned, she shrouded Enir-Ilim and the divine gate in shadow, and grew the sealing tree, which could only be burned by Messmer (or his killer.)

She knew the truth of the divine gate- that it was built from the bones and flesh of her people, that it was an artifact born of unfathomable cruelty and malice. Whatever power it gave, whatever god you would become using it, it wasn't worth it. I believe Marika looked back and saw the monster she'd become, and wanted to be sure no one could make that mistake.

Miquella.

Miquella was not evil. At least, not at first. Born cursed, Miquella grew up in the world of the golden order. Seeing its cruelty firsthand, seeing what it did to the alburnaics, to the omen, to anything that wouldn't fit into the order. And, so, he wanted to find a way to uproot it and begin again. And he found it- the lands of shadow, and the divine gate. We don't know how he came to learn of the divine gate, but learn of it he did- and not having the benefit of Marika's hindsight, and her knowledge of what would become of a god made with it, he set about walking the path of apotheosis.

The road to hell, being paved once again, in the good intentions of someone who only wanted to help. Miquella's actions seem cruel and callous because he had already begun casting away everything that made him who he was in preparation to become a god. Mohg, Radahn, Malenia- all became means to an end. Everything was a worthwhile sacrifice for a world with no suffering! He just had to become a god.

All he had to do. Was cross that gate. By any means necessary. Anyone, and anything, that was an obstacle to that goal was standing in the way of a perfect world. And, therefore, must be evil. Something he could defeat, and throw away, knowing his actions were justified. The ends HAD to justify the means. They had to.

#elden ring #lore #miquella the unalloyed #marika the eternal #elden ring sote #sote spoilers

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lavenderstobins · 8 months ago

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Here’s a masterlist of all the Stranger Things fics I’ve posted! Mostly Robin/Nancy and Steve & Robin 💜

Last updated: 09/11/24 | AO3 | Twitter | ☕️ Ko-Fi

🪻Highlights

➤ love will tear us apart Steve & Robin | T | 12k Robin gets Vecna'd. ➤ leave the speaker on and stay Steve & Robin | T | 8.6k | stobin month 2023 Steve and Robin meet in 1984 instead. ➤ through the years we all will be together (if the fates allow) Steve & Robin | T | 19.6k Steve and Robin work on Christmas. Everyone brings a little bit of Christmas to them.

🌿 Multichapter Fics

➤ you're out of touch, i'm out of time Steve & Robin, Robin/Nancy, Steve/Eddie | T | 12/12 | 75.5k Steve and Nancy travel back in time to 1983 and try to fix things.

➤ in the web that is my own, i begin again (WIP) Steve & Robin | T | 6/11 | 32.5k Steve struggles to balance his superhero identity with his regular life.

➤ one more or one less (WIP) Steve & Robin | T | 1/? | 2.5k After Starcourt, Steve realises that Robin's missing.

➤ holding my last breath (WIP) Nancy/Robin | M | 1/12 | 3.6k | Scream AU There's a killer targeting teenagers in Hawkins. After the killer takes the life of one of Nancy's friends, she'll stop at nothing to get justice.

➤ chasing visions of our futures (WIP) Stevie/Eddie, Stevie & Robin, Robin/Nancy | T | 2/7 | 4k Stevie's dead set on nudging Robin and Nancy together. She's not expecting to realise her feelings for Eddie along the way.

➤ separation brings us awfully close Robin/Chrissy, Robin/Nancy, Chrissy/Nancy, Chrissy & Eddie | T | 3/3 | 9.8k Chrissy learns the hard way that Spider-Woman can’t save everyone.

➤ you’re someone (who knows someone i once knew) (WIP) T | 1/3 | 4.4k Steve Harrington dies. Decades later, Dustin Henderson resurrects him. This is not that story. That story’s already been told. No, this is about what comes after.

🍊 Oneshots

➤ you got light in your eyes Steve & Robin | T | 7.2k | Sequel to Out of Touch Steve can't stop thinking about what Mr. Hauser had told him about Robin.

➤ the pleasure, the privilege is mine Steve & Robin | T | 7.6k Robin won’t let Steve go alone. Not even at the end of the world.

➤ share the same space for a minute or two Robin/Nancy | G | 2.4k Nancy isn’t yet sure what to do with herself now that the world isn’t ending. Robin helps.

➤ the future's unwritten, the past is a corridor Nancy & Eddie, Steve & Robin, Robin/Nancy, Steve/Eddie | T | 26.3k Robin and Nancy have just moved into their new house with their son, next door to Steve, Eddie and their daughter.

➤ guess i'm a coward (i just want to feel alright) Steve/Eddie, Eddie & everyone | T | 7.2k When the bats attack, Eddie sticks to the plan, and he runs, and he lives. He thinks, maybe, that he’ll hate himself forever for it.

➤ cracks in your ceiling Robin/Nancy | T | 9.9k Nancy has a movie night with friends, invents a new disease, and quite possibly has her life ruined by Sigourney Weaver.

➤ in war, in peace, in death Steve/Eddie, Steve & Robin, Robin/Nancy | T | 7.8k Steve realises Robin's alive, trapped in the Fade. (A Dragon Age AU)

➤ now i've found a real love Robin/Nancy, Nancy & Mike | T | 8.7k Nancy Wheeler deserves a good Christmas. In fact, they all do.

➤ used to be you but now it's you and me Steve & Robin | T | 2.4k | twin stars stobin zine contribution It's only natural to cry on your birthday.

➤ 'cause i'm gonna be free and i'm gonna be fine Steve & Robin | T | 7.5k Two decades after the Upside Down closes for good, Steve's daughter goes viral on TikTok, and things quickly escalate from there.

➤ this dream isn't feeling sweet Lucas & Robin, Robin/Vickie | T | 13.1k Lucas finds himself struggling at the post-championship game party.

➤ there’s joy not far from here (i know there is) Steve & Robin, Steve & Robin & the Party | T | 3.7k Steve, Robin and the party have an important discussion about homophobia.

➤ HOW TO SURVIVE THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE: A GUIDE BY DUSTIN HENDERSON Dustin & everyone | G | 2.5k Dustin's guide to the apocalypse.

➤ this is how we'll dance Steve & Robin & Eddie, minor Robin/Carol, Steve & Dustin | T | 1.8k Prom night 1985 from Robin, Eddie and Steve's perspectives.

➤ hold onto hope if you got it Wayne & Eddie, Wayne & Everyone | G | 2k When the trailer park is destroyed, Wayne loses his mug collection of twenty years. Eddie decides this is unacceptable and must be rectified.

➤ you will surely be the death of me Steve & Robin, Steve & Robin & the Party | G | 4.4k When Eddie plans to go out of town, Robin and Steve finally agree to play a D&D campaign, on the following conditions: 1) it’s one session, and 2) Robin’s the DM.

➤ life among the dead Nancy & Robin & Steve, Robin/Nancy | T | 1.3k A Pushing Daisies AU in which Nancy can resurrect the dead.

➤ tonight i'll dream while i’m in bed Robin & Steve, minor Robin/Nancy | G | 4.1k Steve and Robin met, once, long before Scoops Ahoy and Starcourt Mall.

➤ sing me to sleep Robin & Steve & Nancy | T | 1.5k Nancy goes searching for Robin in the Upside Down after Steve dies.

➤ caught up in the motion Robin/Nancy, Robin & Steve, Robin & the Party | T | 3.2k Robin accidentally wears Nancy's Emerson t-shirt to work. Problem is, nobody apart from Steve knows that they're dating.

➤ kiss and (don't) tell Steve/Eddie, Eddie & the Party | T | 1.8k Eddie has a hickey. The party try to figure out who gave it to him.

🩵 Josieverse

➤ bright as the morning sun Steve & Robin & Josie | G | 1.4k | stobin month 2024 A slice-of-life oneshot revolving around Robin, Steve and Josie.

➤ here's to my future (here's to my yesterday) Steve & Robin & Eddie | T | 3.3k Robin’s three months pregnant and still only two people know. They’ve been invited to Dustin’s Halloween party, though. She can keep it a secret. Probably.

➤ all for freedom and for pleasure Steve & Josie & Eddie | G | 0.8k Eddie discovers that Robin’s daughter has learnt how to blackmail people.

➤ what you fear the most Steve & Robin & Josie | G | 1k Steve comes home to find Robin and her daughter Josie seemingly trapped.

➤ somebody that you used to know Robin/Valerie, Steve & Robin | M | 1.9k Before Josie was born—before everything changed—Robin had had something with Valerie. Nothing serious, nothing labelled, but it mattered all the same.

➤ when you touch the stars, hold my hand Steve & Robin & Josie | T | 3.3k Josie is confused about why she doesn’t have a dad.

🌹 Smut fics

➤ if this feeling flows both ways Robin/Nancy | E | 9.1k Nancy accidentally receives a sext from Robin and can’t stop thinking about it.

➤ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me Robin/Nancy | E | 8.8k It’s been a while since Nancy’s had time alone with Robin. She intends to make the most of it.

🌸 Rarepairs

➤ every time it rains Steve/Kali | G | 1.6k Kali wouldn't class herself as someone fond of walks, but she is fond of Steve.

➤ neck full of mockingbirds (WIP) Robin/Carol | E | 9/? | 7.5k Carol and Robin, from start to end.

➤ i wanna be adored Nancy/Eden | G | 1.9k Nancy's lonely. Eden's there.

#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #platonic stobin #stobin #ronance #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #sapphirerays #lavenderstobins #lesbianancy #my fics #ao3 masterlist #ao3 writer #st fic #st fanfic

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dreamingofep · 6 months ago

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Sinned Awakening pt. 28🩸

An AU Elvis fic

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

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

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

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, SMUT, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: Hello everyone! I could not stop writing this part this week so it’s pretty long! I couldn’t break it up or you guys would be left so disappointed 🤭 Enjoy more of the twists and turns!🩸

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. 🩸

His hands consume your trembling body and make you feel like you’re floating amongst the stars. Every touch and caress is so tender yet so urgent. You feel worshipped by him as he whispers your name like a saving grace with each squeeze. God, you’ll never get enough of him. You’ll have a lifetime of these butterflies in your stomach when he touches you. You want to crumble every time he touches you and hide in the crook of his neck where he smells the most delicious.

Straddling his hips, you look down at him with a fire in your eyes. He doesn’t notice it though, he’s too busy touching your skin, creating a ravenous spark inside of you that he is going to have to contain later.

“So perfect,” he hums to himself. You felt far from it. The blistering scars on you made you anything but perfect. It sickened you to think that Raphael was trying to get you to him and take you away from Elvis.

He can read the worry on your face and doesn’t let you share an ounce of self-doubt.

“Shh… yes you are. I swear you are a slice of heaven brought to me,” he hums, rubbing his hands along the curve of your back. He pulls you in closer and you watch as his perfect lips go to suckle your hardened nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud and makes a gentle suckling sound that makes your toes curl with the sensation he gives you. He pushes your body even closer to his mouth as he gets more greedy. Your jaw falls slack as each lick and suck on your breasts makes you dripping wet all over him again.

He takes his time with you, teasing and edging you to fall apart with just his tongue. You beg for him with just your hands and your breathy sighs. You can feel his cock start to get hard again, pushing against your wet folds. A throbbing starts to form in your core and makes you needy all over again.

In a blink, he has you pinned down on the bed once again. You look at him wide-eyed, anxious to see what he has in mind for you.

“Open those pretty legs for me, baby,” he says low. You nod your head to him and do what he asks. He sits on his heels, watching you display yourself in front of him. He bites his lip as he looks at your naked body, his strong hands squeezing at your thighs to keep them apart. He drags his thumb through your folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

“Fuck baby, dying’ for me already?” he asks and you nod your head at him. “You look so sexy baby, got me drippin’ out of you,” he says softly, rubbing your entrance in circles and slowly pushing his thumb into you.

“Keep me inside you, baby,” he groans.

You hiss at the friction, still so sensitive from him earlier. He goes back to teasing your entrance with the same gentle motions, watching you squirm for him.

He holds his cock in his hand and rubs his tip through your folds again, groaning heavily. You watch as he does this, dying in need of him. He locks eyes with you and plunges his cock into your tight pussy. You gasp out loud, “Oh mygod,” you slur as he moves in and out of you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good baby, your body is just begging for it,” he growls, thrusting his hips into you for good measure. Another gasp escapes your lips and you look up at him with pleading eyes. He gives a devilish smirk and nods his head, plunging more of his cock into you until he stuffs you to the hilt. It was so overwhelming, so intense and you couldn’t get enough. He holds onto your thighs, giving him more leverage to fuck you harder.

You groan his name as he hits that sensitive spot deep inside you that you didn’t know existed before he came into your life. He keeps fucking you there, making you want to scream his name. That pretense must be written all over your face because he looks at you drunkenly and takes a sharp breath in.

“That feel good baby? You like how deep I am inside of you,” he says with a snap of his hips. Your eyes roll back with the sound of his deep, gravely voice, making you want to scream yes. Your breathing feels ragged and you scratch down his forearms as he waits for your answer. He’s never fucked you like this as it was so possessive and needy.

“Yes baby,” you whimper finally. He growls at your response and keeps the same tempo that makes you want to come already. He can see how you’re not going to last very long with how he’s taking you, but he doesn’t stop. He wants you to fall apart for him.

“So good baby. Keep takin’ my cock like this,” he pants fucking you harder. A frustrated cry comes out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You can feel your walls flutter around him and you can’t take much more. Each thrust brought you closer to the sun and he knows it. The squelching between your legs grows louder and Elvis groans too when he feels your walls tense around him.

He places his hand around your neck and squeezes it gently, making you look straight up at him.

“You want to come baby girl? You need me?” He says slyly. You moan and nod your head at him, hoping he will make you do just that. He puts more pressure around your neck making you cry out frustratedly.

“I’m going to have to hear you say it, baby,” he rasped, grinding his hips into you deeper.

You couldn’t hold on anymore, he was going to make you lose all control you had in this situation. His chest heaves heavily and his pounding hips then suddenly stop. Your breath catches in your throat and you pull at his hips hoping he will keep going.

“No, baby, please,” you beg him.

“Please what?” He asks darkly as he leans down and nips your neck, making you hiss.

“Please Daddy, please fuck me,” you cry. He doesn’t get away from your neck, instead, he nips at it again and groans.

“Say it again,” he commands. You groan at the added pressure at your neck and the incessant throbbing in your core you have for him.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whimper. He nips at your neck again and you bare it completely to him.

“One more time baby,” he groans, pushing the tip of his cock to your entrance.

You gasp, “Agh Daddy please. Fuck me… I need to come…” you grovel, thrusting your hips forward to get him deeper inside you.

“Sucha good girl… sucha good girl for Daddy,” he groans as he thrusts his cock all the way into you and starts fucking you again.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you cry for him. You feel that familiar feeling form in your belly and beg for him to make you come.

He places one of his hands on the headboard and one on your thigh, pounding his hips into you harder, making the most delicious groans with you.

“Goddamn baby you feel so fucking good,” he rasped. A few more snaps of his hips and your whole body tenses and your walls squeeze around him tightly. Your orgasm feels blinding and you scream his name, never having felt it like this. It was so intense and kept building deep inside you. Each movement he made only made you squeeze around his cock more. He groans in agony too, not being able to keep this pace much longer.

You gasp for air and can’t handle how intense this all feels. There’s a pressure that keeps building inside of you as he keeps fucking the daylights out of you. That sensitive spot inside you keeps getting pushed up against with every thrust and this new feeling starts to develop. It feels like you’re going to come again… but you’re certain you can’t, your body can’t anymore. A little panic sets in as you keep feeling it build inside of you and look to Elvis.

“…Daddy… I- Oh God please,” you whimper, feeling helpless now as you don’t understand what is happening to your body.

“Gonna come again for me baby? Fuckin’ hell, sucha good girl,” he smirks.

You hear the crack of the headboard as he grips onto it tighter and keeps fucking you harder. You scream out his name and you become blinded by your orgasm. This one felt so much different, so much more intense, and suddenly, a clear liquid comes out of you and sprays him at the base of his cock. You’re in shock, not knowing what to do or how to stop it, but it feels too good to stop. Elvis looks down as he fucks you, watching you squirt more on him.

“Oh fuck mama-, fuuuccckk,” he groans, rubbing your clit. He thrusts into you a few more times before coming inside you, coating your walls in his arousal.

He groans loudly as he pumps his cock slower into you, leaning down into your neck and taking a bite.

“Elvis,” you whimper, completely surrendering to him. He only drinks a bit from your neck and proceeds to kiss you more. You feel unreal and can’t catch your breath. He keeps his cock buried inside of you as he tries to soothe you. It was difficult to do so with his cock still hard inside you and your core ultra-sensitive.

“Jesus baby look what you’ve done to my bed,” he teases, giving you a sly smirk.

You look at the sheets and the pillow next to you and see blood smeared all over them and the wet spot from both of your arousals.

“Half of this was your fault,” you whimper. He smiles at you and shrugs.

“Maybe… but I got to make you do something new because of me,” he teases, slowly grazing your clit with his fingers. You tense around him and he groans because of it.

“I don’t- I have no idea what happened… sorry for such a mess,” you say sheepishly.

He shakes his head at you and leans down to kiss you.

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was damn sexy,” he hums, nipping at the top of your breast.

You softly whimper and let your fingers tangle in his hair as his mouth goes back to tease you.

“Did you want to rest for a bit?” He asks you.

“What do you mean?” You ask a little confused knowing you don’t need to rest.

“Well honey, I’m going to make you do that thing you just did…and find all the ways of how I can make you do it again for me. And you’re going to be a good, submissive girl for me. Does that sound okay?” He asks devilishly.

Oh Lord, I’m going to perish because of this man…

“Yes, daddy.”

The sun was high overhead when you both emerged from the bedroom. You swore you died and came back to life three times after what he did to you in that bed. Elvis tried everything in his power to keep you locked upstairs but you knew Iris and Alexander were either already downstairs waiting for you two or they were on their way to the house. Being supernaturally fast, they could get here in a split second if they wanted and you didn’t want them to be kept waiting. As much as you didn’t want to discuss what the plans were of how you all were going to take care of Raphael, you had to face it all sooner rather than later.

A dozen kisses later, you drag Elvis downstairs with you. The house was deftly quiet and you were thankful for that. You take the last few steps down the stairs and peer into the living room. You’re greeted with glaring stares and annoyed huffs from most of the guys as well as Iris and Alexander. You grab Elvis’ hand as you both approach the living room. No one says anything right away and you don’t understand why everyone is in such a foul mood. Their stares burn into you and you can’t help but snap.

“What are you looking at!?”

They stay silent, their glares continuing to burn. You look up at Elvis for some clarity of why everyone is acting like this. His lips press together tightly, looking like he’s trying not to laugh about something. He tries to collect himself and turns to face you.

“It seems, we made a little too much noise for their liking last night… and this morning… and also a bit this afternoon,” he says tauntingly. Your cheeks flush red and watch as Elvis tries to hide his little hiccup laugh. The room groans uncomfortably and they mumble under their breath.

“You two are-,” you hear Jerry start to say.

“What were going to say?” Elvis asks him.

“Nothin’,” he says annoyed.

“No, I wanna hear it. Come on, tells us,” Elvis prods.

Jerry sighs frustratedly and gathers up the courage to speak what is on his mind.

“You two are two are fucking aggravating! You fight like cats and dogs and then proceed to keep the whole neighborhood up. Jesus Christ I didn’t know we could do that all night,” he says frustrated.

Elvis stays dead silent as he stares daggers into Jerry. You can’t help but chuckle and quickly cover your mouth.

“It’s okay Jerry you can say you’re jealous,” you quip, not caring what anyone in this room thinks. Elvis stares at you wide-eyed and buckles over laughing.

After you both regain composure, you hear Iris clear her throat to speak.

“Well I guess I don’t need to ask if you completed your bond together…” she says a bit snarky.

“Anyway, we should discuss next steps… how we are going to take care of this problem you both are facing,” she says.

The mood of the room grows quiet again and you know you should be taking this seriously.

“Yes, I have my plan… what did you two have in mind,” Elvis asks.

He had a plan already? It shouldn’t surprise you but it still stung.

“We have to make sure we are all strong enough and prepared for this fight. Do you have any idea how many men he might have working for him?” She asks Elvis.

“When I went to save y/n, there was only a couple dozen men. A few outside and more inside. They were all inexperienced fighters so I don’t think we need to worry about the men he’s hired. He doesn’t show them how to use their abilities to their full strength so we can take care of them quickly,” he says confidently.

“How are we going to get their attention? Where is he now?” Alexander asks.

“I assume in Vegas. He hasn’t left there in a decade and I don’t know why else he would move. If he isn’t already on his way here, we need to coax him to get here. And I assume he will come here for the one thing he wants,” he growls looking at you.

That pretense sends a shiver through you and hate that you are the prize possession. You don’t want another man to be tracking you down and try to take you away from Elvis again.

“No, we need to ambush him there. If we wait too long, he can have us outnumbered.” She explains.

“You all need to train. Fighting newly bitten vampires as well as older ones is no easy feat. I’m sure you’re well aware of this Elvis,” Alexander says. Elvis glares daggers at him and crosses his arms.

“We can do just fine on our own,” he says through his teeth.

“That’s right, I forgot. That’s why you defeated Raphael all on your own and aren’t using any of us to clean up the mess you left behind,” he growls. You pull Elvis back as he tries to lung to Alexander. His skin felt boiling hot with anger and made it uncomfortable to be standing so close to him.

“Stop, honey,” you snap, “listen to him, he’s trying to help us.”

Elvis slowly nods and tries to calm down.

“I know …we’ll train and get more knowledge of how to fight them off,” he says grumpily.

“Okay good. We’ll have a few days of training. Then, we should leave as soon as possible. If we feel confident enough that you all are ready, we’ll head out to Las Vegas. Then we’ll go with the rest of your plan,” Iris says. Everyone in the room nods their head and looks sullen, not looking at you or Elvis.

You pull at Elvis’ arm to make him look at you.

“Am I the only one that doesn’t know about this plan of yours?” You ask sharply.

His jaw clenches and he swallows, “you know about most of it,” he confirms.

“What are you talking about?” You press.

“I already told you it, and you didn’t like it so it doesn’t bear repeating…” he says gently.

The air gets punched out of you and stumble backward from him. You physically feel weak even though you’ve never been stronger. You look at Iris to see if she knew this all along but won’t retain eye contact with you. It made so much more sense of what he was telling you last night, why he kept repeating the same thing.

Forgive me... Please forgive me…

He wasn’t asking forgiveness for everything that’s happened, he was asking for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

“You knew?! This whole time! You knew what his plan was and you’re okay with it?” You snap at them.

“He’s trying to put you out of danger, you have to see it from his side y/n,” Iris tries to explain. You were fuming and couldn’t hide it.

“No! I will not see it from his side! He keeps doing this! He keeps pushing me aside and saying it’s for the better when it’s not. Every time we’re a part it tears him into pieces. We should be working together, figuring out how to take Raphael out together.”

“This plan is absolutely idiotic! The plan is to go in blind fighting Raphael? He’s strong! And who knows if he’s gotten stronger! We don’t know how many men he has anymore either. Meanwhile, I won’t remember Elvis or what Raphael did to me?! How is that going to protect me?” You say frustrated.

Elvis grabs your hands and tries to make you focus on him.

“Honey please, I need to protect you. This is what I need to do to make sure you won’t have any more pain,” he says softly. “I’m trying to take away the pain I caused. I just want to give you happiness like I promised and start over with you.”

“I don’t want you to make me forget you,” you sob, feeling the weight of the world all come crashing down on you.

“Baby please, you’ll come back to me, of course you will. I just want all of this over with and start my life with you the right way. No turmoil or threats of you getting taken away,” he tells you pulling you into his chest. You sob into his shirt and angrily ball your fists. You wanted all of this to be over.

You blink through the tears and twist out of his grasp. You couldn’t bear the stares everyone was giving you and quickly make your way to the basement. Your stomach felt sick and the world felt too big for you.

After some time, Elvis treads lightly down the steps of the basement but you still hear him coming. He sits next to you, the silence between you suffocating.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he whispers.

You stay silent, not sure what to say to that.

“I want you to be safe and protected, that’s all I want.” He tells you.

“I’ve told you, even with how hard all of this has been, I wouldn’t want a second to be changed. Why are you insistent that this is what I need?” You ask hurt.

“You might not understand now, but I know you will. Forgive me,” he says low.

You don’t respond to him because you truly don’t know if you can forgive him for this.

“Where would I even go?” You ask him

“I’ll have Iris take you back to Colorado, protect you there until I can get you.”

“And you’re just going to pop back into my life? Act like nothing has changed?”

“No… I guess we’ll just start over. Act as I’ve never seen you before,” he says sorrowfully.

“I can’t forget you! You were the one that bit me!”

“I’ll make them tell you it was one of them who did it. Just for now,” he says somberly.

You sob into your hands at the idea of not remembering these last few months. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. You had to pull yourself together, you couldn’t have your last few moments with him just sobbing.

The sound of the front door creaking open makes you sit up curious who else is coming here. “There’s someone that’s been wanting to see you,” he tells you. You look at him a bit confused, not understanding who he’s referring to.

He takes your hand and leads you back upstairs and you smell a new human scent you’ve never smelled before. You look up at him apprehensive, not knowing why he has a human here you don’t know while your thirst is still not controlled.

You turn the corner to the dining room and stop in your tracks.

Anna. She’s here.

She has tears in her eyes when she sees you and quickly rushes to you. She wraps her arms around you and hugs you tight but stops when she notices how different you are. She takes a step back and picks up your hand, noticing how cold you are.

“Hey,” you say to her with a smile.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” She asks uneasily.

“Yes I’m fine,” you say softly. She doesn’t buy it, she’s known you for too long that she can smell when you’re lying at this point.

“Where the fuck have you been?” She says hurt. She looks down at your wedding ring and brings it up closer to her face, ogling it with amazement.

“And you got married? Didn’t bother to tell me about that hmm? I had to find out about it from the newspapers,” she says sourly.

You felt guilty, you knew you weren’t being a good friend ever since you started seeing Elvis. You kept her in the dark for most of it but it was for her own good.

“I’m sorry, it all happened so fast,” you admit. She looks at you disappointed and looks at you like she doesn’t recognize the person in front of her.

“What happened to you?” She asks, glaring up at Elvis as he stands there quietly.

“A lot has happened… can we sit down to talk?” You ask her.

“Sure,” she says shortly.

You don’t blame her for being upset, you should have filled her in on what was happening but it all went by too quickly. You take a seat in the living room and she keeps a distance from you. You were thankful for that space. Her blood smelled appetizing along with the sound of her nervous fluttering heart.

But you were nervous too telling her about all of this, it’s a lot to handle.

You muster up the courage to start explaining what’s been going on.

“Okay… So, yes we got married when we were in Hawaii.”

“Yeah I heard from the news you were in Hawaii… didn’t expect you to get married to a man that you’ve only known for three months,” she jabs.

Valid point…

“Yeah I understand it was quick, but it was what we wanted. I’m sorry I never called you. Elvis proposed and I wanted to get married there,” you try to explain.

“It still sucks, I don’t know what hold he has on you but you’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Everything that happened in Vegas and how secretive you became, it ticked me off. But I respected your space and didn’t want to push you to tell me what was really going on. But I know there was something else going on… it was more than just an affair,” she insinuates.

You glance at Elvis uncomfortably, not sure where to start with your story to make Anna understand.

“You look so… different. Yet you’re the same… and your eyes…,” she says a bit confused. You sigh and try to explain.

“Yeah… look, I won’t lie to you anymore. There’s something that happened,” you say gently. She stays stealthily quiet, all except her nervous heartbeat pounding away in your ears. You grab onto Elvis’ hand, trying to gain focus on him and nothing else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to you.

“There are things in this world that are difficult to explain and this is one of them…” you start to say.

“Just start at the beginning,” Elvis says gently and then stops himself, “well I’m sure you can glaze over some details…” he snickers.

“I know you were fucking her, get over yourself,” she snaps at him. He bites the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from having a rebuttal.

“Anna please, I know you’re upset, but just please try to listen. I need you to promise to die with this secret.”

She nods her head and crosses her arms as she waits for you to continue.

“I knew something was different about Elvis in the beginning. It was a weird feeling I had about him but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. It was the way he looked at me and the way we were like magnets to each other. But just like you noticed when you hugged me, I noticed how cold he was, how rigid his body felt when I embraced him.”

“I need you to understand there are things existing in this world that are unfathomable. This is really hard to explain…” you say overwhelmed.

Elvis squeezes your hand to reassure you.

“It’s okay honey, why don’t you show her…” he insinuates.

You agree and try to focus on him again to get your fangs to descend. He squeezes your hand tighter, silently encouraging you to do this. You have your head down facing the floor and finally feel your fangs descend. Taking a few deep breaths, you look back up at Anna and part your lips slightly, showing off your sharp incisors.

She gasps out loud and backs up further into the couch, clutching the couch cushions.

“What the hell,” she gasps.

“It’s okay it’s going to be okay,” you try to say calmly.

“You’re… you’re a v-, no… there’s no way that’s real…” she chokes out. You try to make your fangs go away to not frighten her as much but it takes a great deal of focus.

“No, you’re right, vampires are real. I’m- I’m a vampire Anna,” you say gently, realizing that’s the first time you’ve said it out loud.

She trembles sitting there, unsure of what to do or say to you. Her attention gets turned to Elvis and she scowls, getting up to confront him.

“Fucking asshole! Why the hell would you do this to her!? You turned her into a monster you selfish prick!” She yells at him, slamming her hands against his chest. He doesn’t move an inch and looks down at her amused. Your anger bubbles up to the surface and hate seeing someone else touch him. You quickly get up and push Elvis back, creating a barrier between him and Anna. She was stunned you moved so quickly and tried to push you too with no avail.

“Why would you let him do this to you y/n?! He’s ruined your life!” She cries.

“We’re not monsters Anna! And don’t you dare touch him again, I don’t like that!” you snap at her. She stares at you wide-eyed and quickly looks away.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” she says quickly, almost like a script. It was uncharacteristic of her to just agree so easily. She’s always had a little temper. You look back at Elvis unsure of what her problem was.

“You compelled her honey,” he says gently. You look back at Anna mortified and try to grab her hands to get her to look at you again.

“You what?” She says confused.

“I’m so sorry hun… I-I-I don’t know what I was doing,” you say nervously.

“What did you do?” She presses.

“Sit back down please, let me finish what I was explaining,” you say gently.

She frustratedly turns back around and sits down waiting for you to continue.

“I wanted him to bite me… I wanted him to turn me. I can’t live without him.” You tell her.

“Once I found out what he was, which was a complicated mess I’ll tell you about later, Elvis explained to me the legends of vampires. How sometimes vampires can have a soulmate, one person on this earth that would complete them and make them not as bloodthirsty. He craved my blood like he never had before and being… intimate with him… only made us want to be together more. But we didn’t want to be away from each other, it almost felt ailing to be a part for too long. It took me a while to come to terms with it all, but I knew it was true,” you explain.

“This can’t be real..” she says shaking her head.

“I know, I thought the same thing. Vampires have abilities, and one of them is being able to make anyone do what they want. It’s called compelling. So I just did that to you on accident, sorry about that,” you say timidly.

“What the fuck! Don’t do that, get out of my head! You can’t just make anyone do what you want. That’s just insane…” she says mortified. She looks back at Elvis with a heated stare, “Did you compel her to be with you or something!”

Elvis growls low and doesn’t answer her. You quickly butt in. “No, of course not! That’s the thing, you can’t compel your other half to do anything. All the decisions I made with him were what I wanted Anna.” You try to reassure her.

You can see how hard all of this is on her. She can’t wrap her head around it.

“So now you go around sucking the life from humans is that it?” She asks disgusted.

“No. I’ve never fed on a human. We can just live off of blood bags from the blood banks or just each others.” You explain.

She looks sad and watch as tears fall from her eyes.

“Jesus… this can’t be real…” she mutters to herself. You try to give her space, knowing it’s a lot of information to handle. You’ve been there before and remember how hard it was to listen to Elvis' history.

She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and looks back at you, inspecting closely your neck.

“Is that what he did to you?” She asks mortified.

You wince at the heat that resided within the scar.

“No… this is something else,” you groan frustrated.

“Who did that to you?” She asks concerned.

“The man that bit Elvis, Raphael, lived out there in Vegas too and hated him. He hated how much attention Elvis brought onto himself with feeding in town and anything else he did. Daniel was working for Raphael and when he found out I was with Elvis, he learned that he couldn’t compel me. Daniel went and told Raphael that I was with Elvis and I knew the truth about him. He thought Elvis was putting our kind at risk of being exposed and thought I would tell everyone what vampires are. He thought El was too weak to compel me but he didn’t know we were tied together in a special bond. But he didn’t believe in that kind of stuff no matter what you told him. He ended up abducting me, making me choose to work for him or have him compel me to forget Elvis forever.”

“I didn’t want either option and tried to run away but he attacked me and ended up feeding me. He bit too hard and left these awful marks all over my body, trying to claim me as his,” you grumble pulling your shirt down to show the other bite mark on your chest.

“They were healed after Elvis turned me… but as of yesterday, they came back…” you shiver.

“What do you mean they came back? Is that even normal?” She asks stunned.

“No, it’s not normal. No one should feed from me, especially not another man. And even though Elvis saved me, he didn’t cut Raphael’s heart out… meaning he’s still alive… and trying to pull me back to him somehow,” you explain.

She looks terrified, unsure what to do or say in this kind of situation.

“I’m so sorry y/n… I’m sorry this has been so difficult for you,” she says softly. “What are you going to do about him? Do you know where he is?” She asks.

“We assume in Vegas but not entirely sure…” you trail off not wanting to think of the rest of the plan they’ve devised.

Elvis picks up your hand once more and makes you look at him.

“The reason I brought Anna out here is to keep you company while the rest of us take care of things in Vegas…” he says lightly.

Your heart breaks more by his words.

“How long do you think we’ll need to be gone?” You ask.

“I’m not sure honey, I think we’re going to send you off tomorrow, just to ensure you both will be out of harm's way. But as soon as it’s safe I’ll get you back to me,” he says as he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

You try to stifle your cries and nod your head, not wanting to fight with him anymore if this is going to be the last few moments you have with him before everything changes again.

“I’ll leave you two alone, I know you both need to talk more and I know you don't want me here.” He says glaring slightly at Anna. “I’m going to be outside training with Alexander, he’s insistent I need to learn more fighting skills if I’m going to take down an old vampire like Raphael,” he grumbles. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead and you sigh, loving the way his lips feel on your skin.

You watch him walk out the front door and miss him already.

“Where are we going exactly?” She asks apprehensively.

“We’re going to stay in Colorado with Iris, another vampire. Just for a little while and make sure we’re out of harm's way while the rest of them take care of Raphael and whoever else wants to cause harm,” you try to say as convincingly as possible. She seems to be okay with the plan and doesn’t protest about it moving forward.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m fine with it.” She says with a slight smile. You were thankful you were gaining some trust with her again.

You and Anna talk for hours, answering any question she might have. You couldn’t tell her about how one of them was going to compel you to forget Raphael and all the turmoil that followed. She helped you laugh about some of the circumstances that you were in and it made you feel better. She was a good distraction from everything else happening and you were thankful for Elvis bringing her here. She finally opened up and wasn’t as mad anymore for what you had kept from her. But she wanted to know all the details about you and Elvis even though you told her some of it already when you were in Vegas. That wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted to hear it again. All of it… starting from the second you first had feelings for him now that she knows he’s a vampire. Your cheeks blushed when you recounted some of the things and she also couldn’t help but turn red too.

She went to bed around eleven, tired from her flight and the overwhelming day she’d had with you. You were left with your wandering thoughts the rest of the night and you hated it. Everyone that was planning to fight was outside training with Iris and Alexander, learning the best tactics of how to fight off vampires and how to use the wooden stakes best.

Being alone wasn’t what you wanted as you would only break down the more you thought about losing a second of the memories you’ve had with Elvis. It wasn’t fair and didn’t like how Elvis thought it would be the only option for you. Those memories were jarring and painful but being with Elvis made them go away. Forgetting the past wasn’t the solution to all your problems.

You went to Elvis’ office and started to read any book on the shelf to see if you could have another option of how your fate might change. There was nothing in the books that made you see a different outcome. You were going to be stuck with losing most of your memories of Elvis.

If that was going to be the case, you start to write down every memory you had with him. You date each letter and reminisce about every feeling and emotion that you went through the first few days of meeting Elvis. The anxiety, the intrigue, and ultimately the undeniable, cataclysmic attraction you had to him. You never wanted to lose those moments. It was almost cathartic to relive those moments you had when you were human with him. Once this was all over, you wanted to revisit these letters to yourself. Make yourself remember something. Feel something.

You even wrote down the bad times. The fights, the insensitive words, and the turmoil Raphael caused. It was all a part of your story, your new life.

You kept thinking about the ‘plan’ they had devised. It was still an awful one. You hated that you didn’t know how long you’d be away from Elvis since they didn’t know when Raphael would come looking for you. You didn’t want to be sent away to the mountains with another vampire you barely knew and have Anna towing along too. There had to be a better way. You had to do something… you had to be the one…

Then it hits you. You know exactly what you need to do.

The sun was going to come up soon and you had just finished writing the letters to yourself. You wrote down your new plan for Anna to understand too and some words of encouragement that everything was going to be alright. The house was quiet and everyone was still outside. You peeked out the window to see the backyard where Elvis was and you saw his clothes ripped and going at it with Alexander in hand-to-hand combat.

The back door suddenly opened and you saw exactly who you hoped you would. Jerry comes into the house looking just as disheveled as Elvis and heads to the kitchen.

You quickly make your way to him and he looks your way.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec,” you say low. He can tell by your tone something is up and he nods at you. You motion to go downstairs and he follows behind you.

Listening to make sure Elvis is preoccupied outside, you face Jerry.

“What’s wrong,” he asks.

“Shh. I need you to be quiet okay?”

“What's going on,” says low.

You were nervous to say your plan out loud, knowing it was going to be met with opposition.

“Please just listen, don’t overreact.” You tell him firmly. He nods his head at you and waits for you to explain.

“Remember when you said you’d do anything for me? Because I’m tied to Elvis? Well, I need you to live up to your promise,” you tell him.

He takes a shaky breath in, “Okay… what exactly do you need?” He asks.

“I need you to take me to Vegas… to Raphael,” you explain. His eyes blow wide and he puts his hand on his head.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” He says low, “He can kill you.”

“No, I know, just listen. This plan that Iris, Alexander, and Elvis have made is awful. If you guys go in there blind and not know how many men he has there protecting him, you’re bound to get yourselves killed. Hell, he might see you guys coming and make a run for it. I’m almost sure they’re expecting you guys to go and attack him. If I go, I’ll be the distraction. I’ll keep Raphael busy and not worry that Elvis and the rest of you are going to show up any moment to end him. Train and learn from Iris and Alexander, get ready for anything to come your way. Then when he least expects it, you all come in and end this.”

He paces lightly and looks back at you worried.

“He can compel you to tell him the truth, to do anything for a matter of fact! Have you thought of that,” he snaps, keeping his voice low.

“Yes I have… that’s why I need you to do one more thing for me… I need you to compel me to forget the plan and… to forget how much I love Elvis,” you explain. His face goes pale and his eyes are full of sorrow.

“Y/n, no. I- I can’t do that,” he says mournfully.

“Yes, you can and you will!” You hiss. “If Raphael compels me to forget Elvis or worse, makes me completely brainwashed that I wasn’t meant to be with Elvis, I’m never getting those memories back from him! I read that only the person who compelled you can give you those memories back if they wanted right?” You ask.

“Yes, you’re right,” he says annoyed.

“I couldn’t handle him compelling me to forget Elvis. I’ll be walking around this Earth in an eternal hell longing for the other half of me. But if you do it… I know you’ll give him back to me… you’ll give me all my memories back. I trust you,” you assure.

You can tell he doesn’t like it but he’s outweighing the risks and benefits of this plan. And this plan has more benefits in the long run.

“It’s risky…” he says.

“I know,” you whisper.

“… but it could work.”

“It will work,” you affirm. “If you compel me to forget the plan, there’s no way of him finding out anything. And the cherry on top is that I’m convincing enough to say that I don’t love Elvis anymore and I was drawn to Raphael… that I had nowhere else to go but to him,” you say weakly, hating the words that rolled off your tongue.

Jerry sits down on the sofa and stays quiet, unsure of what to do next.

“Elvis can kill me for doing this. You see how he gets when I look at you for too long,” he says worriedly.

“I won’t let him. I plan on telling Anna and I wrote it all down so he knows that this was my idea, no one else’s.” You reassure.

“When did you want to leave? We’ll have to run to the airport, it would be too telling if I took a car.”

“Do you know when he planned on sending me off with Iris to Colorado?” You ask.

“In the morning, 9:00 am.”

“Then we need to leave earlier then. How much longer can Elvis be distracted with training with them outside,”

“I can tell the guys to keep him busy. He’s pretty focused on learning different fighting skills, I’ll make sure they don’t let him go in the house looking for you.”

“Okay good. Let me get some things packed and we can leave at 6:00. It’s going to work,” you tell him. He nods his head and leaves the room without saying another word.

You go back upstairs to pack a small duffle full of things you think you might need. You tremble with anticipation and try to conceal your worry, not waiting for Elvis to feel any of that and get suspicious.

You gently wake up Anna and she slowly flutters her eyes open.

“What’s wrong y/n?” She says groggily.

“Shh, stay quiet. I’m sorry to wake you up… but plans have changed,” you tell her. She sits up in bed, intrigued by what you have to say.

“Okay…” she says softly.

“I need you to hold onto these and hide them from anyone,” you say giving her the stack of letters you wrote yourself, “you can give them to me when I get back, especially if things go wrong…” you shiver at the thought.

“Go where? I thought we were going together to stay out of trouble,” she asks confused.

“Plans have changed. I’m going to Vegas by myself. I’m going to distract Raphael and the rest of them. It’s going to be fine,” you say trying to sound reassuring.

She looks at you worried, not liking the new plan at all.

“Y/n, please be careful. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Elvis is okay about all of this?” She asks tepidly.

“Well, no. That’s where I need you to do me another favor,” you say handing her another envelope with Elvis’ name on it.

“Once he finds out I’ve left, he’s going to be upset. So I need you to say one of your favorite things to tell a man; tell him to shut up and listen to you.” You chuckle. “I need you to explain the plan to him and get his ass to Vegas as quickly as possible.”

She covers her mouth from being too loud and grabs the envelope from you.

“I can absolutely do that after he took my best friend away without telling me,” she giggles.

“I knew you’d be the perfect person for this job,” you tease. “I wrote everything down how this was my idea. I know he’ll come around once he sees what I wrote and calm down.”

She quickly goes to hug you, “please be careful. I just got you back,” she says sorrowfully.

“I know, it’ll be alright. I’ll be back before you know it,” you say with a smile. “We’re supposed to be leaving together at 9:00 so be prepared for the wrath he’ll give you a little before then,” you say.

She gives you one more hug and you leave her alone to go back downstairs. You hated how quiet the house was, it didn’t feel right to have a house as lively as this one to be so abysmal. You go out to the back door where everyone is and watch Elvis kick and fight off Alexander with his ripped shirt dirty and disheveled. You had never seen Elvis unkempt, you didn’t know he could ever look like that, you think smugly.

You walk up to them and wait for both of them to notice you. It takes longer than you expect and you finally pull Elvis’ arm to get him off of Alexander.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were there,” he says winded.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all in one piece after seeing this shirt of yours,” you tease.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he chuckles, “Alexander wants to prove he’s faster than me being older or whatever but I’m not letting him win.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Alexander jabs. Elvis makes a low audible growl and you pull at his arm to look back at you.

“How about I give you a kiss for good luck,” you say low and sultry.

You reach up to him on your tippy toes and pull him in by his tattered shirt. Sparks flew and you melted away by his touch. His lips were warm and soft, making you want to never escape from his arms ever again. Your lust for him gets the best of you and you slip your tongue in his mouth, raking your fingers in his hair. You can feel his body melt into yours as he squeezes your hips, kissing you more passionately. You did everything in your power to not pull him in the house and fuck him. But you couldn’t. Your emotions would get the best of you and he would feel every last anxiety you had in your body.

You regretfully pull away, seeing him breathless as he looks at you.

“Jesus mama,” he sighs.

It feels like you’re ripping off duck tape on your skin when you pull away from him. You never wanted to be a part but fate had other plans for you two.

“Make me proud,” you wink as you start to walk away. “I love you.”

You drag your hand along his arm and his fingers try to stop you but you keep walking. He smiles at you as he goes back to Alexander. “I love you more.”

Oh, you’re not going to love me in a few hours, you think warily.

You don’t breathe when you walk back into the house. You wanted to collapse and cry like an inconsolable child but you couldn’t. You had to act like nothing was wrong. You couldn’t blow your cover. His touch lingers on your skin and you savor it, not knowing when the next time you’ll see Elvis. You quickly grab your duffle bag from upstairs and wait in the kitchen.

Jerry walks into the house and doesn’t make eye contact with you as he walks by.

“Plane is ready,” he says in the faintest whisper you could barely hear. He continues to walk through the house and you know you have to follow him.

He quietly opens the front door and you stay close behind him. He grabs your duffle bag out of your hand and nods his head at you.

“Run,” he says low.

You make all your energy go to your legs and take off running faster than you ever thought. The whole world looks like a blur and you don’t know how to stop but you’re following as close as you can to Jerry.

He suddenly grabs your arm and stops you in your tracks. You both are in front of a small jet and the engines are roaring.

“Hurry,” he says pulling you up on the stairs to the plane.

“Close the door,” he snaps to the flight attendant.

He has you sit down in the back of the plane and doesn’t calm down til the wheels come off the ground. He finally sits down and lets out a breath of relief.

“Did he know we left?” You ask him.

“No, thankfully. But I’m sure once we get there, he’s going to be losing his shit.”

The flight was almost three hours but it felt a lot longer. You walked around the plane and couldn’t stay still. It was the only thing slowing you to not freak out or feel anxious. You didn’t want Elvis to have any suspicion and you tried to stay as calm as possible.

You use the bathroom in the back of the plane to splash some water on your face and look at yourself in the mirror. Your golden eyes were the most telling thing about you and how you were not a normal vampire. They were bound to ask questions of why your eyes were so different than last time and you didn’t want Raphael asking you more questions than necessary. There had to be a way to conceal them. If Elvis has changed his appearance throughout the years, you had to learn too.

You close your eyes, focusing on changing your eye color. You try to get them back to their natural color and hide the golden hue. Popping them back open, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your natural, more human-like eyes stare back at you. You sigh a breath of relief you could hide them for now.

You sit back in your seat, looking at the billowing clouds in the distance. You both were quiet and the tension of the whole situation made it feel hard to breathe.

“Thank you for doing this for me…” you say quietly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he scoffs.

“It going to work, I know it.” You say firmly.

Another long silence is held in between you two. You hear him make a small chuckle and try to cover it up but you catch it anyway. You look at him expectantly, “What’s so funny?”

“How does it feel to be the Trojan horse?” He says smugly.

“Pretty fucking terrifying,” you giggle, “Let's hope that men are the same as they were thousands of years ago and will be distracted by a new and shiny prize,” you laugh.

“I can vouch that men haven’t changed much and I’m sure you’ll get through the gates just fine,” he teases. Laughing through this all made you feel a bit better.

The abrupt jolt of the plane landing made your stomach flip knowing your time of normal life with Elvis was coming to an abrupt end. Jerry takes out a folded piece of paper and hands it to you.

“This is the house we found you at last time. Hold onto this.” He informs you.

You quickly put it in your pocket and take a few deep breaths. You knew the second you stepped off this plane, your life could be ruined forever. Jerry grabs your bag and looks nervous too.

“Are you ready?” He asks gently.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say quietly.

The door to the plane opens and the warm, dusty desert air fills your lungs. You tread down the plane’s steps carefully and start to tremble, not wanting to touch the ground. A huge wave of anger hits you like a boulder and proceeds with confusion and blinding sadness. You need to give your lungs air but with every breath you take in, you’re hit with this stabbing pain in your heart. You hold onto the stair railing and gasp, sitting down on one of the steps to try and calm yourself.

“What’s wrong y/n,” Jerry asks panicked.

“He knows… he knows I’m gone… Oh God, he’s so upset,” you choke out. You cover your face with your hands and can’t stop shaking.

“It’s okay, It’s going to be okay y/n. Anna is going to explain it all to him. He’s going to be okay. We need to go before anyone picks up our scent and tells Raphael I’m here with you,” he says firmly.

You make your way down the last few steps and feel almost dizzy from the wave of emotions Elvis is giving off. You couldn’t imagine what he was like right in front of all of them back in Memphis.

“Okay, let's get this over with,” you say.

“Okay…” he says shakily.

You grab his shirt and shake him angrily, “You better bring all my memories back when this is over. No matter what Elvis says, promise me you’ll give them all back to me!” You cry out angrily.

“Yes, I promise,” he says looking down solemnly.

You take a few more deep breaths and smooth out your hair.

“Okay… I’m ready.”

He looks back up at you, tears welling in his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths himself and looks at you dead in the eye.

“You don’t remember any plans we’ve made. You ran off on your own, heartbroken because Elvis doesn’t love you anymore. Block out your bond. Take a taxi and go to that address on the piece of paper in your pocket and stay with Raphael.” He commands. Pain radiates through your heart and you cry out, feeling the bond you and Elvis share suddenly tear.

Then…

Nothing.

No pain.

No worries.

No heartache.

You stare at the unknown man in front of you and quickly back up from him. The loud tarmac filled your ears with noise and so many different scents swirled in your nose. You didn’t recognize this man with his cold, dark stare he had. You see your duffle bag on the floor next to him and quickly pick it up. All you knew was you had to get away from him, you couldn’t be at the airport any longer. You run quickly through the airport and try to hail a cab down. You frantically wave til one finally stops for you.

“Where to sweetheart?” The cab driver says.

Shit, where am I going? You think blindly to yourself. You shift in the seat and hear the crinkle of a piece of paper in your pocket. You dig it out of your jeans and un-crumple it.

Raphael

777 Hells Bells Rd

Las Vegas, Nevada 89084

You quickly hand the paper over to the driver. You had a sense of urgency when you saw Raphael’s name. You knew you had to get to him quickly or something bad could happen.

“Please take me here, please hurry.”

Taglist:

@burninlovebutler

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@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

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@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

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@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

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#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis fluff #vampire elvis #sinned awakening #70s elvis #smut fanfiction

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secondjulia · 11 months ago

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Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room.

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource!

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home.

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income.

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be.

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to.

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough.

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole.

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly.

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk.

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh?

What has he been doing? That’s vague.

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling.

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!”

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center.

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice. He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now.

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind.

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned.

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help!

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice.

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone.

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain.

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to.

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again.

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep.

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court.

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain.

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough.

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.”

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body.

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up.

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob.

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects.

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development.

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair.

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid.

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior.

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building.

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile.

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

#Apparently paid plasma donation is illegal in the UK & you can't donate 2x/week SO...#This is also the Dystopian AU where all the regulations have been axed sorry #+I don't know how buses work in the UK. This is how they work in my city :)#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #fanfic #dreamling #my fanfic

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interpolanticssuperfan · 1 year ago

Text

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow.

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit.

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.”

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.”

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer.

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him.

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already.

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.”

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.)

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?”

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before?

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting.

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something.

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop.

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.”

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response.

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse.

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know?

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips.

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet.

#ken #ryan gosling #ken barbie #barbie movie #ken x reader #ken x fem reader #ryan gosling ken #female reader

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