#but im a stubborn fool

[puppyeared]

started stardew valley for the first time. born to remember villager likes and dislikes forced to immediately forget it the moment i take my eyes off thw wiki

[luck-of-the-drawings]

TRAINING ARC: START!! BOTHER YOUR GUARDIAN AND EXHIBIT ISSUES. NOW SOLVE THOSE ISSUES BY BOTHERING GUARDIANS. I HAVE FULL FAITH IN OUR HEROS!

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

[murderboisblog]

Also, how do you like your coffee? It IS for writing reasons but it's NOT for coffee burn smut reasons

Dark roast, I like it a lil bitter. Hot, I don't like ice coffee. 2 sugars, raw sugar not white. Lactose free milk, the dairy kind not a milk alternative.

[chaos-and-cookies]

Me: claims tumblr is my private social

Also me: *has the most followers on tumblr than any of my other public socials and it's not even comparable lmao*

[shathanns]

I just noticed the Enemy level when i went to fight the Treviso Champions of Elgar'nan, a level 25 Enemy, when Im ONLY on level 12, it took and hour BUT I FUCKING DID IT

Thank you Harding's soothing potion thank you Neve's Time Slow ❤️❤️❤️

[mymcrobsession]

Yhe tags man🥺💗🥺💗🥺

I love it when people pour their hearts out in the tags!!! Fun little read when it doesnt (or does) match the post ahah i love the thinking process behind the arts

endless love!

[gay-dorito-dust]

more benjicot and cannibal with reader please im begging 🙏

There was once upon a time where Benjicot was scared of your dragon Cannibal, after all it wasn’t every day to see one in the Riverlands, and so the day you dropped into his life unexpectedly upon the back of the behemoth did the young lord of house Blackwood knew this was going to change his life.

It did but he didn’t necessarily expect it going in the direction where he now had almost daily arguments with the elder dragon about hogging you all to himself. You were his betrothed! He would be allowed to be with you at some point of the day without your clingy dragon glaring at him!

Benjicot wasn’t going to give Cannibal respect if he wasn’t going to let him spend some time with you in Raventree, he was stubborn in that belief and unfortunately Cannibal was equally as stubborn in keeping his rider close by at all times due to his distrust of others. Meanwhile poor you during all of this were forced to be stuck in the middle of the feud between dragon and man; Needless to say you were confused on how your beloved dragon and your future husband became like children when in competition for your attention and affection.

You had enough to give out to the both of them but it seemed that both Cannibal and Benjicot wanted all of your love and affection for themselves and won’t settle for anything else, which meant you were suspected to see one try to sabotage the other at every given moment, and while it’s something that you’ll never admit to but seeing them make fools of the other never failed to make you catch a case of the giggles.

You fondly remembered the times where Benjicot was showing off his skills with the sword to you during training, always glancing over at you to make sure you were watching him and smiling when you were, only for Cannibal to huff and sweep his legs from under him by using his tail.

‘Benji!’ You called, trying to stifle your laughter as you ran to your beloveds aid, helping him stand as he looks over at Cannibal, who was looking in another direction to avoid responsibility of making him looks like a idiot in front of you. ‘Are you okay?’ You asked with a small smile as Benji pouts.

‘You’re laughing.’ He says almost defeatedly as he holds you against his chest. ‘Your dragon tripped me up and you’re laughing at your betrotheds pain. You wound me my beloved.’ He adds as you cooed at him softly and pressing kisses to his face in apology, unaware that Benjicot was staring down Cannibal cockily as the dragon only growled at him; The young lord had long since grown use to Cannibal’s threats as he knew that you wouldn’t be too pleased should Cannibal bring him harm, so the beast of old legend was forced to growl and huff from a safe distance.

‘Better?’ You asked as you pulled away, Benji quickly changed his face to a softer one as he rests his head against your own.

‘Better.’ He replied. Cannibal growled dangerously low as Ben only flipped the behemoth the middle finger behind your back before stealing a kiss from your lips as a reward, cheekily bitting your bottom lip because he could.

Not even the next day did Ben see you coddled into Cannibal’s side as the dragon looked at him as though to say what are you going to do little bird? He clenched his jaw as he knew that he was at a disadvantage whenever this happens because Cannibal wouldn’t let anyone, not even a raven get close enough without the threat of being consumed alive by the behemoth.

‘You win this one reptile.’ Benjicot said under his breath as he was forced to find something to occupy his mind in the meantime until Cannibal decided that you could run back into his arms, where he’d keep you hostage for twice as long as Cannibal. Benjicot didn’t care if he had to carry you with him if he had to in order to consider the day well spent, he’ll do it and he’ll do it ten times over just to rub it in Cannibals face.

Cannibal huffs in pride as he drops his head to nuzzle your head with his snout, making your laugh as you patted his warm, rough scales in response as you cuddled further into your dragons side as you felt the lull of sleep overcome you.

Benjicot had never been more jealous of a anything in his entire life then he did in that moment, he should be the one holding you until you fell asleep, but he couldn’t help but hold respect for the old beast for protecting you as long as he had because he wasn’t certain where his life would’ve lead him had you not come into his life. So he guesses the old lizard was good for something, giving him his future spouse.

So while he and Cannibal may compete for you, they knew that they’d drop everything just to keep you safe and loved because you deserved that much for bringing them peace and light in their respective lives. You were the most important person to both Cannibal and Benjicot, so if anything were to happen to you, may the old gods have mercy on their soul as they might catch an enraged Blackwood upon the back of an equally enraged Cannibal as they tore the realm apart to get you back.

[angelsheartts]

hiii idk if requests are open so either have this as a silly little thought or a request <33

lucifer and (ideally gn/male) reader have been flirting for a little while and then one day lucifer finally asks reader out, but they reject him

he’s super confused thinking he may have misunderstood their whole dynamic until he overhears reader telling someone at the hotel the reason he rejected lucifer is because reader feels like lucifer would never be able to love them as much as he loved lilith/doesnt want lucifer to use them as a rebound

overall i was hoping for hurt/comfort but whatever rows your boat, love your stories and i hope to see more of them in the future !! have an amazing day <3

.° ༘ THE OTHER WOMAN ᝰ.ᐟ .

#pairing: lucifer, x gn reader.

#cw: angst, fear of being the second choice, lucifers backstory with lilith, starting something new, accepting that relationships come to an end, happy ending 'cause im not that mean hehe (at least not yet).

#note: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM, i haven’t wrote any angst in my blog BUUUT i love it, this request is mwuah.

everyone at the hazbin hotel knew that lucifer had been courting you for the past few months, everyone except you.

or, well, that’s what the sinners at the hotel thought, at least. you obviously knew that the king of hell had been flirting with you, and at the beginning, you almost fell head over heels for him, until indecisive thoughts started to fill your head.

"was he REALLY flirting with you?", "why would he still be wearing his WEDDING ring if he had been flirting with you?", "will he ever LOVE you like he loved lilith?", "will his daughter even ACCEPT your relationship?"

as soon as those thoughts started appearing, you started distancing yourself from the fallen angel, sadly for lucifer he had already started to get the courage to officially ask you out on a date.

the king of hell wasn’t an idiot; he noticed how you started to make up excuses to not talk to him alone or how you weren’t really responding to his flirting anymore, but decided to be stubborn and brush those thoughts off.

-

as soon as you received a text from lucifer saying he would pick you up around eight, you knew he was planning something, and as soon as you saw him all dressed up, nicely done hair and his prideful smile showing on his face, you knew what was coming, but who were you to not appreciate his efforts? if you knew that it was going to end someday, why wouldn’t you enjoy the moment? yes, you were being a fool for accepting his offer, but having a tiny crush on him wouldn’t hurt you, right?

after having a nice and really luxurious meal at a restaurant in hell, lucifer guided you to an actually peaceful spot where you could see all of the pride ring. ironic. who would even think that hell has a peaceful place, one where you should feel relieved, but why weren’t you feeling that way? was it because you knew what was to come?

"(name), is everything alright?" lucifer interrupted your thoughts with his angelic voice, or could you say demonic? at the end of the day, he was still an angel, just a fallen one. "mmh? yeah, i was just..lost in my thoughts i guess" you answered, admiring his glowing red eyes shining in the dark. "oh, okay" he said, letting a nervous laugh come out. "i think there is something i need to tell you, (name)" lucifer said, this time his voice had a serious tone. "i thought that after lilith I couldn’t get to love again, but heavens was i wrong. i had the chance to get to know you this past months, and…you've changed my life in that short time." he started, giving a sincere smile "would you want to be my partner?" he asked, fidgeting with his fingers as you stared at him.

oh, well, that question made you nauseous. "i-, i don’t think i want that, lucifer" ouch, that hurt his pride."I think it’s time for me to go, i’m sorry" you said in a quiet tone, standing up and leaving him there, and as much as you didn’t wanted to look back, you did, but the only thing you could see was lucifer in the same position as when you stood, this time though, he was hugging his knees staring at the view you both were looking at just a few minutes ago.

-

since his confession about his feelings towards you, he hasn’t been in the hotel, and the cast started to suspect that it has to do with the date you had with him. charlie was the most preoccupied, since she had been the one to encourage his dad to finally ask you out. she tried texting his dad to ask him about your response, but the king of hell just responded with a "it didn’t go as planned, but don’t worry about it, char-char."

after that text charlie obviously knew that his father was feeling bad about whatever happened that night, and would isolate himself from the others, so for her attempts to not let that happened she kind of tricked you into visiting him, she asked you about the date, and since you kind of lied to her by telling her that the date went as normal as a date should go, she then answered by saying something along the lines of "if that’s so, would you mind reminding him that he needs to come to the hotel?"

you could write lucifer a text message telling him to come to the hotel, but since you literally ran away that night, you forgot that your cellphone was laying somewhere near to where you both were sitting, so yeah, you did in fact lost it.

-

going to his mansion was a really weird feeling, what can you even say after rejecting someone? would he even open the door? as you were lost in your thoughts again, you heard the front door open, and as you made your way into his house it wasn’t really hard to find his bedroom.

as you knocked before opening the door, the first thing you noticed was how lucifer had his bedsheet covering him, it made you smile since you noticed how charlie did that too, so you could guess she got that from her father.

there was a silence as you both stared at eachother, until lucifer decided to interrupt the silence. "i-, i-i’m sorry about what happened, i think i might had misunderstood our relationship" he confessed, his messy hair and dark eye bags made you worried "it’s okay lucifer, and about that night..there is still something i haven’t told you about my answer" you declared, making him look at you with such hopeful eyes, oh hell, how can such a prideful fallen angel have so much faith in what you were going to say. "i said I didn’t want to take it further, since i still believe your heart belongs to lilith, and because of that i thought that rejecting you would be the best option." he opened his eyes at the mention of his past lover. "but, me and lilith haven’t been dating since seven years, (name) what me and her had is long gone" he reassured you, while signaling you to sit on his bed, the king bed who looked so comfy yet so empty. "lilith still is an important person in my heart, she has been with me since beginning of humanity and is the mother of my daughter, but the persons who’s my heart belongs now is you, my love" after hearing those words you could feel your eyes fill with tears, of course lilith was gonna be an important person in his life, but why would that stopped you from being in his heart as well, were you being selfish all this time? wanting to be the only person who’s important to him?

"and, this time i haven’t been at the hotel, i thought about why you said no, and i think i may have noticed something" he said, getting out of his bedsheets and caressing your face, you could feel your face burn at his touch, yeah, you really have missed him, "you were always staring at my wedding ring, weren’t you?" he asked looking at you with a glum face, yes, you do recall looking at his wedding ring while he looked at you with loving eyes, the ring that made you doubt so much about his feelings towards you, "i was a fool for wearing my ring while flirting with you, and if my ring has made you have those doubts about our relationship, you should know that i had decided to take it off" after hearing those words, you noticed that he was right, you haven’t noticed until now, you didn’t feel that cold ring against your face. "and if you still willing to try, i’m sure that soon enough i will be using a ring who will be showing who my heart really belongs to"

"that’s so cheesy" you answered chuckling, you tried to jokingly ignore the fact that he just said he would propose you, because if you took it serious you were sure that your face would be as red as the famous apple, actually, you were sure that if he offered you the 'fruit' you would have accepted, wait, were you even thinking about a fruit? but anyways your angel needed reassurance from you, that in fact, you liked his cheesy words. "yes, i still want to have you in my afterlife, lucifer" "well, if that’s my future’s wife/husband wish, then, who am i to object?" the fallen angel winked at you before starting to teasingly kiss your whole face, the moment he started doing this, you noticed something you didn’t thought you could, you felt like his first option, not just a rebound.

and yes , it will be a long journey until he really overcomes his past relationship with lilith, but since he's willing to do as much for you as you would do for him, you both will soon overcome your fears of past experiences.

[forlorn-crows]

may i request a ficlet or a headcanon on how mountain and rain fell in love?

anon, i need you to know i SQUEALED so loud when you first sent me this. i love these boys so MUCH, and im so happy you asked about them. consequently, i have written you an entire fic fhghdhjf. happy mountain monday!

tagging @divine-misfortune for giving me ideas for this, including the title

𝑩𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

Rating: Teen

Relationship(s): Mountain/Rain, Mountain & Dewdrop, Mountain/Zephyr (mentioned)

Tags: fluff, romantic fluff, first kiss, falling in love, pre-relationship. mentions of past relationships & now turbulent ones. they're just so cute okay :((

Words: 2,648

It happens quickly, like a rushing river thrusting debris together after a storm. Leaves and shorn-off buds tangling with algae before coming to rest at a rocky bend in the stream. The current carries them towards each other—part chance, part fate, part cruel circumstance. Gentle in the way it allows them to float on the surface, but persistent in the way it doesn’t let up until they ultimately intertwine.  In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain.

read the rest under the cut, or on AO3!

It happens quickly, like a rushing river thrusting debris together after a storm. Leaves and shorn-off buds tangling with algae before coming to rest at a rocky bend in the stream. The current carries them towards each other—part chance, part fate, part cruel circumstance. Gentle in the way it allows them to float on the surface, but persistent in the way it doesn’t let up until they ultimately intertwine. 

In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain. In a whirlwind of summonings, the water ghoul stayed unfazed from the beginning: cool, collected. The ease with which he took to their routine and their lives gained all of Mountain’s admiration. He was the fresh scent of petrichor after months of brimstone and burnt skin. 

Dew was . . . well, Dew was different now, and more connected to Aether than ever. None of them could help the fact they all mourned his water in different ways. It was what it was—and that made it easy for Mountain to let the new water ghoul in while he temporarily loved the old one from a distance. 

Melancholy, perhaps. Thankfully, now, it’s becoming easier to figure it all out, even amongst the chaotic shuffle of ghouls, instruments, and authority. They’ve had a few moments, some good, some bad. Mountain’s accepted, after many weeks of unbridled anger, stubbornness, and isolation, that it simply will take time.

And woven into the healing and the mess of it all is that bright cerulean lure, flashing over and over. 

It doesn’t help, of course, that Rain is gorgeous. Lithe and sharp, siren-like in the way he involuntarily commands Mountain’s attention. But more than that; it’s the way he lets mistakes roll off of him in rivulets. The way he walks around like he’s been there a thousand years, but never in a cocky way—more like he finds comfort in everything and everyone with an ease that only adds to his elegance. 

It’s the way he bounds over to Mountain while he’s working outside the greenhouse to ask if he needs help instead of breezing by on his way to the lake. Always offering for the earth ghoul to join him (Mountain’s scared shitless of making a fool of himself being alone with him, so he never does). 

And, it’s the way that Rain really, really listens to him. Eyes soft and kind, always cocking his head in genuine interest when he speaks. How he doesn’t let anyone pull him away for some heated rendezvous or grab him for another practice session when they’re deep in conversation.

Slowly but surely, he’s gotten to know the water ghoul. Little smiles exchanged while he watches Dew teach Rain the bass. Sharing favorite foods, like orange blossom infused honey to drizzle over Rain’s toast at breakfast. Neutral compliments that turn into lengthy conversations at the end of their rhythm section sectionals (where Mountain doesn’t miss the amused, knowing shake of Aether’s head as he exits the practice room, leaving them to it). Jokes shared over dish duty at the end of the night, long walks around the abbey and its grounds where their shoulders brush and Rain’s face lights up like the most lustrous sapphire. 

The earth ghoul just can’t seem to have enough of him—of his genuineness. His openness to learning new things while always being honest about who he is and what he needs. 

What he wants, though? Who he wants? Well, Mountain is a little blind to that. 

He, however, is not blind to his own wants. 

Wants that flutter to life in his belly when he walks in on Rain in the baths one afternoon. Mountain can’t help that he blushes something fierce, steps stuttering as he contemplates continuing or fleeing. There’s no need to say sorry, at least; it’s not an intrusion to walk in on another ghoul in their shared bath house. But that doesn’t stop Mountain from feeling like it is, with the way he’s alone, poised somehow perfectly in the patch of setting sun streaming in through the skylights. Running fingers through raven-black hair as he massages his shampoo into his scalp.

It’s not the first time he’s seen him naked before. They’ve been to the lake together a handful of times, where Rain has thus far preferred to be bare as the day he was summoned. But at this moment? He almost seems more . . . real. More ethereal and mesmerizing. Even from a few yards away he can see the faint markings scattered across his shoulders and back, almost white in the dimming light, popping against his blue-toned skin. The fins along his ears glow close to orange as the scattered beams of sunlight shine through the thin skin. 

Mountain could admire him for hours. Trace up and down the fins on his spine, map out his spots like constellations. Watch his gills fluff and flutter. He wants very badly for Rain to let him. 

One day.

Eventually, the water ghoul notices his guest, looking over his shoulder as he squeezes on the ends of his hair. His cerulean eyes crinkle up at the corners when he notices Mountain staring (gawking, really), and the earth ghoul is nearly brought to his knees right there. 

“Hi, Mountain,” he says smoothly. Underneath the water, his finned tail swishes. 

“Uh,” Mountain clears his throat, “ . . . hi.” It’s so small and hesitant and he wants to kick himself. Any shred of nonchalance leaving his body the moment Rain puts his eyes on him.

The water ghoul just smiles, tipping his head towards the water in front of him. “Come join me.” His voice is sweet and melodic as it echoes against the high ceilings and mixes with the soft bubbling sound of circulating water. Every part of him a siren’s call.

Something akin to bashfulness creeps up his spine, face going hot at the thought of disrobing entirely in front of a creature so, so much more gorgeous than he. While he’s seen Rain naked before, Rain’s never seen him naked, and though he has no qualms about being naked in front of kin (he’s learned the hard way about human ideals of decency), something about it being the first time the water ghoul will see more than just his chest and calves has his heart fluttering like a mortal teenager in a romcom. 

“Sure. Thanks.” Lords below, have mercy. He strips quickly before he can think about backing out, dropping his clothes into a haphazard bundle on one of the benches. 

“No soap?” Rain observes his lack of toiletries as he places his towel at the bath’s edge. 

“Oh. No; was coming more for a soak,” Mountain explains, slipping into the water. He can feel the heat radiating from the tiles underneath his feet, a soothing temperature that instantly eases the tension in his tired muscles. He trills contently. 

The water ghoul makes a thoughtful noise as he tips his head back for a rinse. Mountain watches the ridge of his throat stand out against his neck as it bends, the gills on either side fanning out slightly as the skin around them pulls taught. Before his gaze can wander past the beginning of his sternum and take in the way his chest tips towards the ceiling, though, Rain straightens back up, hair now slicked back against his scalp. 

“Well, you’re welcome to use mine. If you change your mind.” The fins on his ears twitch and shake off the residual water droplets, sending some flying towards Mountain’s face. 

“He-ey,” he accuses, squinting one eye and blinking the other rapidly. “I think there was some shampoo in that one.” 

Rain grins, sharp double fangs on full mischievous display. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to rinse it off.”

Mountain sighs and rubs at his cheek with the back of his hand, head shaking slightly. He takes an over-exaggerated breath, holding it all in his cheeks and raising his eyebrows at the water ghoul before sinking beneath the water, submerging completely. For as dense as his hair is, it thankfully wets easily, and he’s pushing back up to full height—now fully drenched—after only a few seconds. 

Rain’s laugh reverberates around him, pretty and delighted. Mountain knows it’s because of the hair in his eyes, most likely transforming his appearance closer to that of an unkempt highland cow than a slightly disheveled earth ghoul. Mountain chuckles in response, shaking off like a dog. 

“You asked for this,” he says as their laughter dies down. He’s about to raise his hands to his face and push back the wet strands, but instead, Rain’s there suddenly, brushing the hair off his forehead with soft, cool hands and thumbing the water away from his eyes. Mountain’s breath catches in his chest, heart beating very fast as Rain’s hands pause to linger on his cheeks. 

They’ve never been this close—such a distinct lack of distance that Mountain can feel the breath from Rain’s nose fanning over his slightly parted lips. It’s been difficult enough in the moments Rain bumps against him in the hall or when their hands brush when passing plates at dinner. Touch that lingers for hours afterwards. Now he’s within the circle of the water ghoul’s arms with nothing but bath water between them, and Belial, he might not survive the next few minutes. 

“H-hi,” he whispers. Anything to not break this spell, despite the urge he has to slip from his hands and drown himself in embarrassment. 

“Hi,” Rain smiles. His eyes dart down to Mountain’s nose, back up again, then down to his lips. And his gaze stays there as he tilts his head to the side and asks, so blatantly: “Will you kiss me?”

Mountain nods so fast he thinks his brain rattles in his skull. 

Rain laughs again, and Mountain’s heart swells with something he dare not yet name. 

“C’mere, then.” And Rain is pulling him in, shifting his hands to hold against the nape of his neck, thumbs at the hinge of his jaw. Mountain can’t help the noise that escapes him when their lips connect, Rain’s so soft and cool it makes him ache. It takes all his willpower not to slot their bodies together when he places his hands on the water ghoul’s waist. He’s so smooth, skin almost taking on a stingray-like texture from the water and stray soap residue. 

The kiss is brief, chaste, but not without movement. Lips meeting, parting, then meeting again with softened breaths shared by their noses. A flurry of excitement runs through him when Rain smiles against his mouth; a juvenile feeling, but one that warms his entire chest. One that he has to have a tight hold on, lest he get too excited.

When Rain turns his head, rubbing their noses together, Mountain huffs against his lips as another kaleidoscope of butterflies fills his belly. But he pulls away after that, their mouths separating with a soft sound. All at once he becomes frozen, eyes still closed—almost like he’s drifting through space, memorizing the feeling of Rain’s lips moving against his.

Rain laughs breathily. “You still with me?”

Mountain bites his lip, eyebrows quirking up in the middle. His hands are still sliding against the water ghoul’s skin. Just feeling. The smoothness of his skin only makes him want to touch him more. 

“Uh-huh.” Mountain can hear himself how distant he sounds, how terribly infatuated he is just from one kiss. It brings him back to those early days with Zephyr: how cautious and reserved he was around the elegant air ghoul when they gave him attention. How they managed to pull something genuine and warm out of him over those first few months. How Mountain’s world changed the moment Zephyr pulled him down to their height and pressed their lips to his. 

And maybe that’s what it was about Rain that hooked Mountain from the start. That similar brand of ease and elegance, the nonjudgemental willingness to help him through his stubborn, thick head and realize yes, this ghoul wanted him. Where Zephyr helped him gain confidence to live a life topside, Rain has helped him rejuvenate that life and give him purpose again. 

Hard not to fall (over and over again) for a ghoul like that. 

After probably too long of a pause, Mountain opens his eyes. Rain’s smiling at him, blue eyes sparkling. Everything about him outshines anything else in his view, and he just has to return the smile. Mountain rubs his thumbs over his hip bones, sharp but smooth, so pleasing to touch that he just wants to touch him over and over. Rain scoots millimeters closer and hums thoughtfully.

“Well?” He’s still holding his face between his hands. He moves them from Mountain’s jaw and slides them down his neck and over his shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

Mountain gasps softly. Grips Rain’s hips a little tighter as he watches the water ghoul lick his lips. He doesn’t answer his question, because all he wants to do is pull Rain right back in. 

“Will you kiss me again?” It’s easy to ask—easy to want more from him, want to give him more. He could sink into this warmth between them and happily never come out.

“You don’t have to ask,” Rain smiles, already closing the gap between their mouths—and now their bodies—again. This time, he lets himself touch, really touch. Arms circling his waist, snaking between his shoulder blades, hands running softly along his fins and moving upwards to tangle in his hair. It would be too easy to completely let go, lose himself in it all and let Rain devour him right here in the bath. Open up for him and let him take all of him. But he doesn’t want to get too far, too carried away. Not here. Not now. 

Not yet. 

Rain works his hands over the planes of his chest, his stomach, lingering just on the edge of politeness as he familiarizes himself with Mountain’s little tufts of fur. Skilled, thin fingers twist and pet at the mousy brown strands dusting his chest, his stomach. Still kissing chastely, but not without intention or desire. 

Tiny wings flutter faster in Mountain’s stomach, swooping high and low in their wild flight. Pushing little sounds out of his throat as Rain huffs softly against his lips. It’s too easy to let him hear those sounds—illustrating how much he wants him, letting him hear all the ways he makes him feel just at the slightest of touches. 

Rain pulls away, and Mountain dizzily follows. Chasing kiss-puffed lips and the sweet taste of laughter breathed between them. But the water ghoul slips from his grasp with ease, wading away from him.

“Wait, but . . .” Mountain doesn’t actually know what to say. His lips and body buzz where Rain last touched, nerves alight. 

Rain just shakes his head and smiles. “Plenty more where that came from, Mount.” He pulls himself out of the bath, and Mountain swears he bends over purposefully just to make him look. Rain runs a towel over his body and squeezes the bulk of the water from his hair. Then he tosses the towel in the bin in favor of a soft waffle-knit robe, sighing happily as he slips it on. 

Before Mountain can say anything else, Rain’s scooping up his soaps and shuffling out of the bathhouse in a pair of garishly blue rubber sandals (completely in contrast to the muted stone-gray of his robe, but Mountain supposes those kinds of shoes don’t come in sophisticated colors). The smile stays on his face even as he rounds the corner. 

Leaving Mountain alone, tingling everywhere. 

“Belial, help me . . .” he mutters into the empty room. He sinks down, nose deep into the water and equally as deep into those lingering, fluttery feelings. 

[addoves]

first colors / final colors

luke time

[aquagirl1978]

I think now I just may take you up on that offer after the week I have had! (If it still stands)

How would Chevalier act with a s/o who has had a challenging couple of weeks, im talking it’s just one bad thing after the other and she’s left burnt out and in need of some real tlc and comfort!!

- med anon 🚑

I am so sorry this took me so long - summer has not been easy on me. I tried something a bit different, a mix of headcanons and a short drabble. I hope you've had a relaxing and calm summer, and good luck with the new school year.

It's the little things he does that truly show just how much he cares.

He doesn't need to hear the words come out of your mouth; your emotions are written all over your face.

He knows how dedicated you are to being the absolute best that you can be, and he is in awe of the person you have become.

But he also knows that you are stubborn to a fault, and that you would rather work yourself to the point of exhaustion than admit you need a break.

Leaving it in his hands to gauge when you need the quiet affection that only he can provide to you.

Chevalier pushed open the door to the bedroom and found you sitting up in bed, a book opened on your lap. He could tell had just gotten into bed - your hair was still pinned up. But you took the time to change into one of his plain shirts.

Chevalier smirked; as adorable as you looked wearing his clothes, he preferred it when you weren't wearing anything to bed.

He closed the door with a soft click and you didn't look up. As he approached the bed, the closer he got, the more aware he became of the frustration etched on your face. Your lids were heavy as you appeared to re-read the same page over and over again.

You were clearly exhausted to the point of being overtired. And yet, you were forcing yourself to stay awake - for him.

My fool, he thought to himself. His lips formed in a slight frown, he extended his hand and gently flicked your forehead with his finger.

"Ow!" you yelped, rubbing your forehead. Looking up, you found a rather stern looking Chevalier staring back at you.

"Had I wanted you to stay up late waiting for me, I would have kept you in my office," he said with a wicked smirk.

"I stopped by Sariel's office before coming here..." you replied quietly.

Chevalier closed his eyes and sighed loudly before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Instinctively, you moved over, making room for him to sit next to you. He pulled you onto his lap, and with his thumb, tilted your face to meet his. At this close distance, it was easy to see the dark circles under your eyes, the result of numerous restless nights.

"I appreciate your efforts and your dedication to your duties." He spoke softly as he cupped your cheek in his palm, his touch warm and comforting. "But not at the expense of your well-being."

Clumsily, he pulled you into his arms, holding your head close to his heart. He began to unpin your hair, his long fingers weaving through your loose locks. When he was finished, he lay in the bed, your face nuzzled against his chest.

"I know this week was hard for you, but you can hold your head that you got through it." He placed a reverent kiss upon your forehead, while stroking your hair with his hand. "Next week will be easier."

He felt your breathing slow and knew you were close to sleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, promising a late morning spent together tomorrow.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings

@wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

@maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

@ikesenwritings @justpeachyteastea    @kalims-pessimist-bestie @writingwhimsey @shadowylakes  

@ikeprinces-stuff @kookie-my-little-sunshine @candiedcoffeedrops @adreaminthesea

[nctangelz]

( 💌 ) LOADING … SOOYOUNG WITH NCT DREAM!

🧸 MARK — SOOLEE

you can always see the two of them harassing one another (mainly sooyoung bullying mark) and other times it’s just mark being embarrassed by sooyoung’s antics (and embarrassed he followed along) mark always blames sooyoung for being a “bad influence”, sooyoung blames mark for being a follower 🤷🏼‍♀️. mark can really bring out her sassy side and her soft side all at once <3 whenever the two of them are alone, mark likes to just talk to sooyoung about anything, he loves to just listen to her ramble. he will always protect her, and always ignores sooyoung when she says “you don’t need to worry, im all grown up!” 💔.

mark is a blessing and a curse to sooyoung. when sooyoung is feeling really anxious in situations, mark’s random and awkward jokes that make no sense always make her feel better. she loves hearing him trying to give good advice without knowing what he’s talking about, it makes her feel more confident in herself to let her irrational thoughts go. but, at the same time, when her and mark spend hours rambling, sometimes mark can go too deep in wondering and send sooyoung into a rabbit hole of stress. he always makes it up to her and talks her out of if <3.

a special moment nctzens adore :: *dream was vlogging in the US during their tour* sooyoung was attempting to order her own meal by herself, and mark was so supportive towards her! he gave her a big smile and thumbs up, lovingly pinching her cheek. off - camera, mark gave her the biggest hug known to earth!

🧸 RENJUN — SOOJUN

sooyoung ADORES renjun. she loves his controlled / quiet chaotic personality and how he can make her smile without having to say a thing. she loves loves to just spend one on one time with him just be present in the moment. when they are alone together, it’s just a mix of them being quiet and relaxing, and them sooyoung trying to get renjun to do something with her. for example, sooyoung was begging renjun to go grocery shopping with her FOR HOURS, just because she didn’t want to go alone. renjun was being so stubborn, but he eventually agreed because sooyoung looked so sad when he told her no for the 1021819 time. he is a sucker for sooyoung, and she knows it.

sooyoung and renjun are super close though! they love to take walks together or paint together, anything that can relax them and allow them to decompress. sooyoung loves loves to hug renjun and he pretends like he is only tolerating it but…his favorite hugs always come from sooyoung! but don’t let his softness for soo fool you, he WILL harass her just like he would anyone else, and his patience with her is CONSTANTLY being tested 😭

a special moment nctzens adore :: dream was behind the scenes of a photo shoot, and SOMEHOW sooyoung had retrieved a bubble wand, and was skipping around blowing bubbles near all of the members - renjun especially. everytime she came near him he kept giving her the side eye, and kept trying to take the bubble wand away, but to no avail. this girl had a death grip 💪💪. so, like most friends would, renjun CHASED HER until she dropped and let go 😭😭

“AHHH RENJUN IS COMING TO GET ME!! SOMEONE HELP!!!” …. “ARE YOU ALL REALLY GOING TO ABANDON ME?!?”

rather than tackling her, renjun just wrapped her in a hug and lifted her off the ground and carried her back to the backstage, plopping her onto a chair and telling her to “stay” like she was a puppy 😭. minutes later you could see sooyoung laying her head on his shoulder watching him play games 🥺

🧸 JENO — SONO

THE CATS OF DREAM!!! jeno is the black cat while sooyoung is the hyper orange cat…jeno watches in the distance while sooyoung inevitably creates chaos…then joins in. he always has a protective arm around her, especially in public. he is always worrying about sooyoung, if she’s feeling okay, if people are being creepy, or if she’s going to get hurt.

he will always make sure he walks behind her when they are leaving, ensuring that no one harassing sooyoung. he always holds her heels for her when her feet hurt, and even carries her down the stairs when she doesn’t feel confident in her pumps. he is sooyoung’s #1 defender…don’t mess with his demonic bestie.

a special moment nctzens adore :: sooyoung was running around the house in a 8CHILLIN episode, and you could just hear jeno repeatedly yell “you’re going to fall, sooyoung” or “YAH! SOOYOUNG!” … and when she finally slipped, jeno was the first to her side. he cradled her head, worried that she cracked it open, but only sighed when he saw the girl stifling her giggles. “oh sooyoungie…what am i going to do with you.”

🧸 HAECHAN — SOOHYUCK

haechan is constantly doting on sooyoung and sooyoung EATS IT UPPPP. she lovessss affection (platonically) and never turns away from haechan when he’s trying to hug her…she just pushes him away when he tries to give her a cheek kiss 😭 despite haechan being older than sooyoung, haechan is 100% sooyoung’s baby. he will always call out for her or go “sooyoungieeeee, im hungry” and sooyoung will immediately go get him a snack. she loves loves to pat his head and sit next to him because he is just so WARMM. she always calls him her personal heat box 🥰 she will do anything for this boy, and she will always defend haechan even when he is clearly wrong 😭

the two of them together though when on reality shows…CHAOS. haechan and sooyoung will team up and sooyoung is all of the sudden ALL FUELED and ready to FIGHTT. haechan will encourage her and he LOVES to see sooyoung be super energetic and determined to win or do whatever the goal is…he acts like a proud dad around her constantly 😭 the two of them as pairs will leave everyone roasted…but it will be a great show!!!

a special moment nctzens adore :: dream was at a fan sign event where the building ridiculously cold…and poor sooyoung was dressed in a skirt and a thin shirt, our love was FREEZING. she couldn’t stop shivering and she just kept moving around the stage to keep herself warm. haechan, seeing that the stylist weren’t going to offer sooyoung anything to atleast be a little warm, took his sweatshirt off so sooyoung could wear it 🥺. he also demanded that sooyoung had a blanket to cover her legs when sitting - because yk, sm doesn’t care 🙄. he felt so bad, he held her hands until they were warm enough and didn’t complain when she clinged to him to stay warm 🥺

🧸 JAEMIN — SOOMIN

jaemin and sooyoung have a veryyy special bond! the two of them have always been super close, jaemin was the first nct dream member that sooyoung got close to - and their bond just got stronger and stronger!!! jaemin always says that sooyoung is his boost of energy, and there is soooo much evidence of this. whenever dream are playing games and jaemin gets tired, all he needs is sooyoung next to him and her big, energetic smile, and he is back in the game!

these two can communicate with only their eyes, nctzens swear. there are countless of threads of jaemin and sooyoung communicating silently…and always doing weird stuff after. sooyoung and jaemin spend the most time with each other…so they know everything. everything. the two of them are always gossiping and spilling tea about eachother on vlive…which always ends with them calling eachother and fake fighting 😭

a special moment nctzens adore :: jaemin and sooyoung are so thoughtful of each other, they always remember everything about each other, and love to suprise eachother with things that they’ve mentioned in passing. jaemin once saved up his money for months to buy sooyoung locket after their debut, because sooyoung had recently lost the one her brother gave her, and she was devastated. so, he bought her a new one, and placed his favorite picture of dream in it for her <3. she wears it so often, and she has never changed the photo.

🧸 CHENLE — SOONLE

01 LINERS!!! BESTIES!!! even though sooyoung and chenle are the same age - chenle was timid to approach her when they first met. sooyoung was so bubbly and energetic, and while he was too…he wasn’t used to working with one girl out of a group full of guys. he always over anaylyzed his interactions with her because he really wasn’t sure how he was feeling about the whole ordeal. but - sooyoung understood. she gave chenle time and eventually, chenle warmed up to her after he saw how lovely she was 🥰

the two of them together…NEXT LEVEL OF SASS. chenle will try and mess with sooyoung and be dramatic, but sooyoung will NOT TOLERATE IT. she will 100% COME FOR HIM. they will bicker about everything, but it’s all out of love!!! jaemin is always saying “NO FIGHTING, NO FIGHTING”….which leads to sooyoung and chenle fighting more just to mess with jaemin 😭

a special moment nctzens adore :: sooyoung had bought coffee for all of the members - and surprised them all when they were doing a group live! sooyoung had two coffee carriers, her dance bag, and was trying to somehow hold onto her food bag without dropping the coffees, and as soon as chenle saw sooyoung he hopped up and practically took everything from sooyoung, leaving her with only her food 🥺. he also gave up his seat on the couch to stand so sooyoung could sit and be cozy 🥺

🧸 JISUNG — SOOSUNG

sooyoung and jisung are getting into all sorts of trouble, although it’s less of them pulling pranks on others…more just like them having bad ideas and executing them. when they were trainees and they were able to spend time at dreams dorm, they were always pulling all nighters together, then complaining when jaemin dragged their butts out of bed 😭

they are also BOTH SO CLUMSY. the members always joke that they have to have constant supervision 😭😭. sooyoung also messes with jisung so much, she will convince him that random things are true - and he will 100% believe her 😭. sooyoung always feels bad when he starts telling other members and they are just like ?!?, so she eventually tells him the truth

a special moment nctzens adore :: sooyoung was vlogging for her relay cam, and sooyoung decided she was going to go in jisung’s room to bug him. she expected to find him sleeping because it was like three in the morning…but this man was still awake gaming. so, sooyoung sat next to him in his bed and watched him, making fun of him when he lost. eventually (after ten minutes) … sooyoung fell asleep and jisung had to take over the relay cam cuz this girl wouldn’t wake up 😭. but nctzens LOVED how jisung gently moved her so she was actually laying down and tucked her in.

“nctzens…i don’t know where i’m going to sleep now….i guess the floor now.” poor jisungie 😭

[mleemwyvern]

that was my post and i WILL fight. purple is an equally valid zedaph colour and i stand by that. he was purple before he was pink.

If you ever make Zedaph’s color purple instead of pink just know that you are a coward.

[doumadono]

hopefully im doing this correctly(and hopefully ur comfy with this bc this seems like something he'd do- but if not thats fine too QAQ): Sinful Sunday: dilf! muzan who's son is a buttface that dumps fem! reader but muzan likes reader (reader likes em back but neither couldn't rlly do anything bc of the relationship<3 ) a looot sooooo comfort and revenge sex to make reader feel better about themself and the situation?

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan's piercing gaze met yours. The weight of your recent heartbreak hung in the air.

As the tension thickened, Muzan's hand gently traced the contours of your face, his touch a soothing balm to the emotional wounds inflicted by his disrespectful son. Without uttering a single word, his actions spoke of empathy and a desire to make you feel cherished.

Slowly, the atmosphere shifted, and Muzan's lips found yours in a hungered kiss. It wasn't just a physical union; it was a rebellion against the constraints of your past relationship. Each touch, each caress, whispered tales of liberation and newfound passion.

Muzan's voice, deep and resonant, echoed in the hushed space. "You know," he began, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and disappointment, "my son can be quite the fool. Too blinded by his own arrogance to see the treasure he had in you." His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your hips, a subtle display of the turmoil within. "He's a stubborn one, driven by ego rather than genuine connection. But you, my dear, deserve someone who sees your worth, who cherishes every nuance of your being."

"Maybe he was right and I wasn't good enough…" you uttered.

A sigh escaped Muzan's lips, carrying the weight of countless unspoken frustrations. "He doesn't understand the rarity of finding someone as exquisite as you. Too much of a buttface to appreciate the beauty in his midst. I suppose some lessons are learned the hard way."

Muzan's eyes met yours, a glint of determination flickering within. "You deserve more than his fleeting attention and hollow affections. You deserve to be adored, valued for the incredible person you are. If he couldn't see that, then it's his loss. I've witnessed many affairs of the heart," he began, his voice a low, soothing rumble, "and I must say, my son's decision was a regrettable one."

Before long, you found yourself gently pressed against the plush cushions of the couch, and he began the tender process of undressing you. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He rose from the couch, gracefully lowering himself to the floor. Gently parting your thighs, he began a sensuous journey, his lips and tongue tracing an enticing path along the inner contours of your leg, starting from your knee.

In response to the tantalizing touch, a soft, almost imperceptible whimper escaped your lips. Your desire for him was palpable, expressed in the quiet yet intense yearning that resonated through the room. It felt so wrong but it also felt so right. "Muzan…"

Muzan skillfully wrapped his lips around your clit, his tongue tracing a path across your slit. With a deliberate touch, the tip of his tongue embarked on a journey, exploring your slick with an unhurried pace.

As Muzan's fingers seamlessly joined the dance of his tongue, you succumbed to the intoxicating sensations, transforming into a symphony of moans. Your body, responsive and eager, writhed beneath his skillful touch, a testament to the exquisite pleasure he orchestrated.

"I'll show to you what a real man has in his pants," he whispered against the delicate skin of your clit.

"P-please…" you whined for him, slipping your hands in his black hair, trying to pull him closer to your pussy.

Muzan gently fingered your drenched pussy with his fingers while occasionally kissing your clit. "My little treasure." Muzan rose leisurely, unfastening his belt and effortlessly sliding it off the loops of his pants. He then proceeded to unzip his fly, pulling out his cock.

A blush crept across your face as you gazed at the reddened tip before you, and a nervous anticipation lingered in the air. Licking your lips, you voiced your concern, "M-Muzan, are you sure it's… Okay? I just broke up with your son… He might be back home any minute now…"

He provocatively rubbed the tip against your entrance, a bold declaration escaping his lips, "I don't give a damn. If he walks in, he'll see what he lost. And I won't fucking lie, I wanted to fuck you for such a long time." He smoothly entered you, emitting a guttural grunt, "Oh, fuck, you're tighter than I thought."

In response, you rolled your head back, arching your back, and instinctively wound your leg around his hip, surrendering to the primal desire. "God, yes, it feels so good!"

He promptly increased his pace, fervently thrusting his hips, the sound of grunts and gasps escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Didn't my son treat you nicely?" Muzan inquired, shooting one hand to rub your clitoris in little circles.

You shook your head, a tinge of vulnerability in your voice. "N-no… He only thought about himself. Few thrusts… Few grunts… And.. Fuck! And.. He was done.."

"Oh, you poor, little thing," Muzan whispered, picking your both legs up to place them over his broad shoulders, changing the angle to penetrate your pussy deeper. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

You whined for him, rolling your hips to seek additional stimulation. "Yes, d-daddy!"

Muzan thrust into you with primal intensity. "That's right, little doll, let me hear your moans."

You climaxed with a passionate cry, your essence soaking you completely.

Muzan followed suit moments later, delivering a few powerful, additional thrusts. Without hesitation, he released his seed within your spasming pussy. "That's it, take it all, doll."

After withdrawing, he indulged in eating your pussy once more, ensuring to thoroughly savor every inch with his mouth, expressing how delicious you tasted with his seed ozzing from your cunny.

After you dressed, and Muzan adjusted his attire, he offered you a warm smile. "How about we go out for a nice dinner? And who knows, maybe we'll run into my son in the city. I'm eager to see the expression on his face when he sees us together."

[hinasxvii]

“Hate, Love”

❥ A Zaros Atha’llin x Reader Story (fem!reader)

❁ kinda oc? , Zaros is pathetically desperate

★ this is my first fanfic so im sorry if its bad or anything like that! i’m not the greatest writer, if there are any mistakes in this I apologize dearly! i’m not the greatest with grammar as well so again, I apologize if there are any mistakes as such! hope you all enjoy reading lovelies!

Hate, was that what he felt for you? No, of course not. He couldn’t hate you no matter how hard he tried. You couldn’t call it hate when the only thing he’s been thinking about the last eight years was you. You couldn’t call it hate when every woman he has fooled around with had at least one similar trait to her.

Zaros couldn’t hate you no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he told himself that he did, he was fooling nobody but himself. He basks in your attention, he yearns for it. Every little remark he made, every teasing comment, every smartass comment he threw over your way just for you to look his way.

Pathetic isn’t it? Not being able to fall into a slumber because you can’t get the thought of her out of your mind. You consumed him and his thoughts back then and still til now.

He was doing fine, he was doing perfectly fine without seeing you for the last eight years and now you just had to make an appearance back into his life. Seeing you again after all these years ignited something inside him, something only she could ignite. You set him off once again.

And now he found himself heading over to where you were. God, you looked ethereal in such light. The moon shining upon you only enhanced your beauty. It took every cell in his body not to run up to you and kiss you right then and there. God, what had you done to him? This was worse than any poison, you were like fine wine and he couldn’t stay away from you, addicted.

He positioned himself right beside you, eyes locked onto your figure. His mouth parted ever so slightly to say something but nothing could escape his lips.

He hated you, right? He hated how easily you could rile him up. He hated how stubborn you were. He hated the way you made him feel. He hated everything about you, except he didn’t. He carved every bit of you, fuck he even dreamt of you. He was so pathetically in love with you it was almost embarrassing.

“I hate you.” He let out breathily, his heart beating in his chest, loud enough for the whole kingdom of Serulla to hear. “God, I hate you.” He whispered out once again, his fists clenching as he gulped down the lump that formed in his throat.

“You make it known, Sarl Zaros.” You replied with a hint of mock in your voice. That same grin on your face, the one he oh so hated. He watched as you turned your back on him and walked away. Your figure disappearing into the distance painfully slow.

Zaros’s fists only hardened at hearing your remark. You were toying with him, playing him like a fiddle and he had no problem with it. After all, you had him wrapped around your fingers, you always have. God, he hated how easily vulnerable he became around you. “Fuck..” Zaros cursed under his breath as he stared out in the direction you left off to.

Zaros glanced around his surroundings, his fists unclenched as the fell down to his sides. And that was when he began running towards you, like he always did.

After all, you were fine wine and he was addicted.