#i pitched them a show and they said it would never exist

[bluemantics]

guys help i just got in a small fight with voltronofficial’s instagram and threatened to write a post s8 miniseries that actually showcased character development

[loudclan-clangen]

So, here is the pitch:

AU where Siltsplash finds out they are pregnant around the same moon that Eklutna gives birth to the boys. (Rather than an AU where Owl doesn’t cheat because then we wouldn’t have Song, Dance, or Dash and that won’t do)

It makes the betrayal even worse because it’s even more pointless since they were going to give Owl an heir.

Anyway, meet Spindlekit

She will eventually go blind I imagine, but if Owlstar suggest she retire she tells him that he should retire for being old lmao.

Warrior name is open to suggestion

I love her and I’m so mad that she doesn’t exist now.

The fact that Song doesn’t have a little sister is a CRIME. This is what he was born to do.

Not only am I okay with it, I would love to see it!

You are so right, here's a flashback that was cut for time from Moon 28:

Erminepaw has had a crush on Songpaw since they were in the nursery together, he just never called attention to it. He honestly probably doesn't even register that it is a crush, he's doing that thing that kids do where they're like this is my best friend, of course I want to marry him that's how everyone feels about their best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary here! Just my best friend that I must be holding hands with at all times for best friend reasons!

Yes! This is Fox----, he has been causing problems since the literal day he was born. You've met both of his parents, but I would be a little bit surprised if you guessed them correctly. Parental drama is kinda part of his whole deal. He's one of the first 3rd generation cats born in Loudclan.

I have SO much advice, about the images, the recommended size is 1280 x 1920 pixels, that's always a little too short for my panels, so I try to aim for 1280 x 2000 - 3000. It still deteriorates them a little bit, but people can always click on them for better quality. Bigger text and variation in values also help for readability regardless of size. (value meaning how light or dark a color is. if you want something to stand out it's more important to change the value than it is to change the hue generally speaking.) As for grabbing attention, I would recommend making sure that the image you're trying to show is visible above the cut off for longer posts, posts with only text visible are a lot less likely to get interaction. That being said, the most important thing for the longevity of your blog is making sure that it's something you are doing for yourself. There's nothing wrong with liking when your posts get attention, but it's not likely to happen for a long while (I think moon 5 was the first time I got double digit likes which was three months after I started.) I appreciate all of the love that Loudclan gets now, but if I had started with that as the goal I never would have been able to reach the point of it happening. (I actually started posting Loudclan with the intention of proving to myself once and for all that posting art was not a viable endeavor for me, so... I'll consider that a successful failure!)

You CANNOT DO THIS to me anon- "the canadian city"- YOU MEAN JUNEAU? YOU MEAN THE CAPITAL OF ALASKA JUNEAU?!?! JUNEAU?!?! CANADIAN?!?! When I catch you anon- anon when I catch you-

Come here, anon. I just want to talk. I just want to have a word with you.

[fangisms]

did you hear?

A/N: i just think he’s so lover.

gif creds: @qveenofthorns

Pairings: Neville Longbottom x Popular!Fem!Reader

Summary: Neville Longbottom accidentally starts a raunchy rumor about the popular girl in his potions class. And rumors fly. 1.0k words.

Warnings: ‘snogging’ help im not british and it shows, rumors, allusions to sex/promiscuous acts, teasing, pining, strangers/friends to lovers

Somehow Neville started a rumor about you. And somehow, through the unbelievably slippery walls of Hogwarts, the rumor made its way to you in less than a week.

It was an accident, honestly. And people kept blowing it way out of proportion. You were popular, more popular than he could ever hope to be, and when he said it, he had already accepted that nothing would ever really happen between the two of you. But this awful rumor made him sound boorish and borderline rabid when really it was supposed to be a harmless confession between friends.

"I heard Neville Longbottom wants to shag you out by the Quidditch pitch."

Even from a few tables down, he could see the mortification fall over your face like a black veil. Your friend giggled as she pulled away from whispering in your ear, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. He had to look away when your eyes flicked to meet his. Your friends spend the rest of lunch hour teasing you and snickering about him while you seem to shrink in on yourself.

Neville manages to avoid you where he can in the halls: taking the longer route, hiding in large groups. But none of it is very fruitful when you've got a very similar class schedule. In fact, despite his efforts, he spends nearly every passing period just behind you and sometimes even right beside you. Apparently, he's also got a clear shot of you from where he sits in the classes you share and you're even table mates in potions. Of course, he knew all of this before that nasty rumor was spread, he's just become hyperaware of it since then.

After making it through the week without too much tension, he finds himself scanning the pages of his Water Plants textbook in the Great Hall and not retaining any of the information. And as he props his chin in his hand, he notices you settle into the seat directly across from him, flashing him a quick smile before opening your own book.

He sits up, glancing around the room to find Snape preoccupied with a group of raucous students from Slytherin.

A small, crumpled piece of parchment rolls its way to your side of the table, stopping just before it topples over the edge. You set your book in your lap and look over your shoulder before unraveling the torn paper.

"I'm assuming you've heard the news by now."

A smile creeps onto your face as you flatten out the slip of paper and write your own message on the backside. You slide it across the table and just barely catch his eye.

"Here and there."

But he knows you mean just about every five seconds because this cursed rumor has been inescapable for as long as its existed. You slide the cover of the Hogwarts Gazette over as well. It's entitled, "Things Heat Up Between Popular Witch and Nerdy Wizard" just above a picture of the two of you smiling at each other in class with a few smaller headlines like, "The Rumors are True!" and "What's Next for the Unlikely Couple?"

He blinks. Who's reading this rubbish? Scratch that, who's writing this rubbish and how hard would it be to mame them?

"I'm sorry about that, it was supposed to be an inside joke. Honestly, I would never say something that awful in the first place. And especially not about you."

You give him a sympathetic smile and crumple the page and his note into a ball before sending back a new slip.

"I know."

He half-smiles before attempting to read again. But you toss him another scrap of paper.

"So what did you say then?"

You giggle when he flushes a bright pink before squinting at you and scribbling across the page.

"Something or other about wanting to snog a certain pretty girl. It was never meant to go past first base, honestly. Pure intentions!"

You shove the used paper in your pocket and glance over your shoulder with a mischievous look before delicately folding another piece and setting it in the center of his textbook. He opens it. But he doesn't get the chance to read it before it's snatched out of his grasp by a pale hand.

"Mr Longbottom," Snape drawls, "would you care to read this aloud since you two have insisted on interrupting your fellow students' focus?"

You hide your giggles behind your hand and Neville glares at you while Snape ushers him into the aisle.

He looks down the note and groans.

"How about those Quidditch Pitch seats?"

...

"Very funny," Neville grumbles while you hold his shoulder to steady yourself from convulsing with laughter.

"Your face! You should have seen your face!" You tease, tears nearly streaming down your face when you clutch the sleeve of his sweater.

"You set me up," he says, trying not to smile when you purse your lips.

"You started a rumor about me!"

"On accident."

You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head to the side. "Then yes. I set you up. On accident. Walk me to Trelawney's?"

He rolls his eyes and offers his arm for you to loop yours through. You walk beside each other in silence nearly half the way, dodging confused looks and bothersome jeers from your friends.

"So," you mumble, looking at him with a cocked brow, "you really think I'm pretty?"

Neville shrugs. "And snoggable, I suppose."

He looks down at you and thinks he's never acted so cool around someone he likes so much. He thinks you're more than pretty and he wants to be able to tell you, but as you round the corner, the open classroom leers at you like a slippery snake. He spares you one last look and you peer up at him like a little dove. He goes pink.

You stop in the doorway and beckon him closer. And you think the nearly contemptuous smile on his face is new and ill-fitting but he's handsome nonetheless. You hold his chin and press a sweet kiss to his cheek before ducking into the classroom.

"See you in potions, Neville."

masterlist

[cirqosmos]

My Little Angel

2023 | 18+ | ONESHOT | PARK SUNGHOON × READER

WARNING yandere fallen angel!sunghoon, noncon smut, pure filth. 🗿 minors don't interact but i'm not your mama that are able to supervise you, you have your own brain so consume content responsibly.

WORD COUNT 1.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE just a small practice of ehem yk, cuz i don't write smut rlly and this is my second smut story obv, since route 1 has me coughing sm. so it might be rlly bad. plus sunghoon's hair is just giving me sm feels 🗿

SUNGHOON WOULD NEVER LET YOU GO, you who were his pretty little angel. One that had brought him to complete euphoria and at the same time to his demise.

The first time he laid his eyes on you was when the priests summons spiritual angels for a holy ritual, and you were amongst the young nuns presented. Your existence took his breathe away that it cause one sinful thought arising within him.

That alone had him shaking his head in pure agony, trying to shake those thoughts away but strangely, those sinful thoughts only multiplies, slowly devouring his innocence and turning his prayers to God into prayers for you.

His mind no longer whispers the name of God but rather consumed by your name.

For a couple of months, he watches over you with his presence invisible, that the nun with a great psychic ability beside you one day asked if you were aware that you had a guardian angel remaining by your side, and that your guardian angel's energy wasn't the colour of light but rather of darkness.

That ripped your peace of mind into ashes, praying to the God for protection, answers of what has fall upon you, and so on.

Sunghoon saw it all, only remaining silent. Sure, he had fallen in love with you but he chose to stay behind the curtains, but one day when a man came into the frame—it broke him to pieces, and another type of sin arises in him; greed and desire for a human blood.

It shook you to your core when an angel who you often imagine as supreme beings with the light enveloping their magnificent wings—were soaking in crimson blood.

That was the first time he showed himself before you, voicing out a rather simple sentence. "I'll return again."

Even when you dared to break off the rules he created for you and escape through the white door that was supposed to protect you from the outside world, just like he said.

But you didn't listen to him, so now you had to pay the price because you were a bad girl—ruining his image of you being his obedient angel.

Sunghoon pushes you off to the bed with his enormous strength. As an angel, he's far more stronger than you are and now that he had fallen to the underworld, strangely he gained more power and strength—feeding on dark energies from the underworld creatures.

And the day he turned into a fallen angel with his once glowing white wings drenching in pitch black ink, was also the day he took you away from the church, stripping your right of freedom.

Locking you inside this room bathed in silk red, where behind those doors were engulfed with dark creatures you were beyond frightened to lay your eyes upon. But what you didn't knew was how they were afraid of you, who Sunghoon absolutely adores. That's why it had them at the edge of their life when your existence was nowhere to be found in the room.

Yet, it was not difficult for Sunghoon to capture you back but oh did it irritates him beyond his expectation. He expected you to be good and obedient just like when he saw you for the first time.

But this, such an atrocious act for him that he desires to give you a suitable punishment.

Your small and petite figure aroused him even more, adding the fact that you're nervous and writhing like a prey waiting to be devoured.

You knew there was no escaping, not when the windows and doors were locked, completely sealing you from any escape possible, not when this boy in front of you were much stronger than you are.

You are truly doomed.

He climbs on top of you and grips both your wrists on the mattress amidst your protests and cries, mouth trembling as the hot breathe of his mouth slides down to your neck, and licks it with his tongue.

"I've been too good to you, love. I guess it's only wise I take what's mine now," his finger slids down to your tummy, in which you immediately tighten your thighs together but he was quick to put his hand in between, using his strength to open your legs again.

And in a split moment, his hand cupped your private part making you panic along with a hint of arousal hitting your core.

"I really wanna make love with you since the first time I saw you.." Sunghoon growls, pressing his finger inside your clit making your back arched in pleasure.

You don't want this. You really don't want this.

"To feel what it's like it to be inside you.."

You pressed your lips tight, tears threatening to come out from your eyes as he pressed his body closer to yours, the warmth of him engulfing your entire body.

"Hear your sweet little sounds.."

His eyes filled with nothing but love and lust.

"Make you cum and all.."

The desire to eat you raw and stain your innocence with his hands and mouth were driving him utterly insane that his eyes and hands rattled immensely.

"Because of what I'm about to do to you, is driving me crazy right now, love." Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips brushing down your ears as he uttered another dirty words that sent shivers down your spine. "You would be so cute under me, so fucking innocent and yet so fucking dirty just because of me."

"But I was too kind, too lenient to let you do what you want. It's my fault you turn out so bratty like this.." he softly murmurs, as his fingers dig even deeper and deeper into your clothed clit.

"I should teach you now then, train you on how to be my sweet little good girl.." Sunghoon breathe out, "My little angel."

"N-no.. I'm s-sorry!" You choked on your tears, begging for this to just be a dream.

"Shh.. then show me how sorry you are while I'm fucking you raw."

He pulled your skirt down but you tried to stop it, yet he was stronger and faster and now the cold air hits your bare thighs. His hands slapped your arm away, gripping it against the mattress as he kissed your neck and licked it.

He buried his knee between your legs and his other hands cupped your breast making you let out a tiny moan — a sweet melody to his ears. His fingers made its way under your shirt, giving you goosebumps as his hand travelled to your bare tummy up to your breast, then he pinched your nipples and played with it.

You could only cry, and take what he's giving you. The more you resist, the more he gets aroused. The bed creaking, blankets wrinkling, and wet spots forming on your panties as you felt his hard and growing bulge against your core.

You were getting a weird delicious feeling under your clit and you hate it that you like it.

In a split moment, he gets rid of your shirt, exposing your breast and all. You tried to cover yourself but he growled, eyes narrowing as his hands harshly prevented you from doing so.

"So fucking cute.." he breathes against your ear, his hands forming circular patterns on your bare back.

He licks your neck with his tongue then the edge of teeth sank just below your shoulder, marking you as his as blood trickle down to your bare chest, a mixture of arousal and pain engulfed your entire body as he pushes himself deeper and closer to you.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

All you can think of was to get him to stop but the way your body reacts to his sinful touches was saying a different thing.

The clock hanging on the wall across the room were the only thing you were left to observe as he devours your body with his lips and tongue, the edges of his fingers and hands travelling it's way every edge of your skin without your consent.

1:05am

It has been nearly two hours since he was forcing himself on you, your clothes scattered around the floor with his and yet it doesn't look like it's gonna end anytime soon.

Your ears catches the sound of a belt unbuckling on its own and your tired teary eyes glanced towards the source of the noise, your breath hitched nervously as he unzipped his pants, his face were wild flushed and lips swollen with the amount of contact he forced against you and his soft hair gone into a wild mess, his toned body having bead of sweat on his neck streaming down to his torso.

He slowly puts his cock inside you making your back arched in both arousal and pain, your lower part felt so full, getting filled with wet and girth.

Then he starts to thrusts in you—loud, lewd and dirty slaps echoing through the room. The smell of sex strongly lingering in the air, beads of sweats forming on your forehead as your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in his skin bound to form fresh red crescent marks that will serve as a form of achievement for him tomorrow when he sees it in the mirror.

Sunghoon's fucked up expression contorts even wilder as he shuts his eyes and his mouth hangs low and his head throws back, leaning back down again to kisses you roughly, tongue meets tongue, lewd sound forming along with it — everything was incredibly wet and dirty.

His hand gripping your left thigh up to let himself sink even deeper inside you, you could feel every part of him inside your body, it was as if you were being filled with so much pleasure and pain at the same time. Your toes curling up in the air, and you could feel wet liquid dripping down to your wet hole.

Soon you couldn't suppressed your moans even though you bit your lips, he chuckled at how cute you are under him. "Fucking cute.. my little angel."

You felt a knot forming under your stomach and he realizes you were coming, your knees weak and a burning arousal all over your body as he keeps thrusting in you, his cock hitting all the sweet spots inside you.

Then he bends down, taking your neck with his hands as he deeply kisses you as you experienced your first orgasm, knees vibrating in pleasure while his tongue plays with yours.

Hot and wet liquids trickling down to your thighs, seeing it gave him satisfaction that he was able to pleasure you and also be the first man to ever take your innocence away just like when you stripped the innocence of his mind away.

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

First Meetings + Touches With The Slashers

How you meet and how your first touch goes

Headcanons

Sfw, fluff, some angst, slashers learning how love works and sort of failing</3, GN reader

Includes: Martin Mathias, Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers (RZ), Norman Bates, Kurt Kunkle

💉Martin Mathias

It was.. awkward.

you were spinning slowly on the roundabout thing at the park with Martin

it was late at night, pitch black out, and you guys were just existing together, talking only every now and then

youve done this since martin moved into town

you guys met when he delivered a package to your house and when you came to put it away for your mother you instantly wanted to know this kid

he looked around your age and you think he felt the same

so you guys just became friends and sat in the silence of the other like this often

you did most of the talking as Martin just watched silently, only chiming in every once in a while when something really caught his interest

at some point deep into a comfortably one sided conversation, your hand slid slightly and gently rested on his

you didnt notice, but oh god he did

he just stared at your hands and shifted uncomfortably but not in a disgusted or hateful way, more like a cautious and unsure way

it took a moment before you looked over and realized and you moved your hand back almost immediately

he just stared at you with those puppy eyes, mouth slightly open showing the tips of his front teeth (cute stuff yknow?)

You apologized but he just,,, stared. scanned you. observed you.

it took a moment before anyone spoke, and shockingly, it was him

"Its ok. your hands are warm.. s'okay. I promise." and he said it so soft and in that awkwardly boyish manner that he has

that made you smile gently, easing the tension, putting your hand back in its spot comfortably

it was a peaceful night and an even more peaceful comfort between you two

🗝Brahms Heelshire

the actual first time he touched you wasnt even when you were awake

that wall freak snuck into your room when you were asleep and petted you basically

but the first time when you were awake was when he decided it was finally time

he just couldnt wait to reveal himself any longer, he would go insane if he had to watch his goodnight kisses be wasted on some hollow porcelain again and again

he tried to be gentle, soft, tried not to scare you

of course you were damn near terrified to death

a tall and strangely muscular man just lumbered out of the wall, the very same walls youve spent months in between, months living with, and yet never once did you think they were a living space themselves

it took you time before you could calm down, painfully long before you even let brahms take a step closer to you

but when you let him, he was overjoyed

he gently grabbed you and nearly swallowed you with his arms, taking a very obvious and harsh sniff of your hair

that was the first of many lingering hugs and touches so you should probably adjust to this new life soon- for your own sanity

🔪RZ Michael Myers

oh, and make a new list of rules

you werent supposed to be there, actually

there was a halloween party going on at the myers house (and it wasnt even a good one smh)

you didnt want to go but your friends didnt want to walk alone (and they definitely needed a chaperone to walk them home)

so you walked them there, dropped them off, and gave them a time when youd be back to wrangle them (also chastising them for disrespecting the house and the myers family so horribly)

you had a nice evening to yourself, 0 worries, watching some slasher films alone (house of wax, wolf creek, house of 1000 corpses, yknow the good stuff)

time to get your friends unfortunately *sigh*

you turn off the tv and make your way to the myers house

there are.. a lot.. A LOT.. of police

in a panic you sprinted through every shortcut possible to make it there

one of those shortcuts was through bushes and in between neighboring houses fences

thats where you bumped into him

you looked up and froze, fear paralysis, staring at the blood splattered ghost white face- no- mask

from your end, you were sure you were gonna die

from michaels end, he didnt know what to do with you

he saw you ramble on about how these dumb drunks should just let the myers family rest and they were disrespecting them and blahblahblah

because of that he wasnt going to kill you

but here you guys are, body pressed on body, between bushes and fences, staring at eachother

he made the first move and you flinched and blocked your head with your arms instinctively

he didnt do anything, just left you there to collapse into a ball of fear and confusion

anyways he had to contemplate why he liked the warmth of your body against his so much (and why its been in his mind for weeks after the incident)

oh also ur friends are dead :p

🛎Norman Bates

you were just a normal guest

just passing through but it got late and it isnt safe to drive when youre so sleepy

so you pulled into the nearest motel you could find and low and behold its the bates motel!

you got your stuff and checked in

you just assumed norman was this shaky and nervous around everyone

norman knows hes not. at least not to the degree that you made him

god the moment he layed his little puppy dog eyes on you he was in shambles

you are the definition of what he desires

mothers pissed!

he helped you bring your stuff to your room and you guys talked about anything and everything

he invited you to eat dinner with him after you mentioned you hadnt eaten

you unfortunately refused because your exhausted tanked your hunger by a long shot

as he was going to leave you touched his arm gently, a friendly touch

you thanked him and he shakily gave a thank you back for choosing his motel and being so kind and being so gentle and for being so- he should really get going now before he rambles too much and loses his dignity, shouldnt he?

you laughed softly at his behavior and gave him a kind goodnight before closing the door and readying yourself to sleep

norman basically booked it back to his house

mother had an earful for him but he was so dazed and stupid from the things he was feeling for you

the absence of your warm fingertips on his arm made him crazy, he wanted longer touches and he wanted to feel that warmth endlessly

he was very adamant you stay in the bates motel again soon when you checked out the next morning (much to mothers dismay)

📱Kurt Kunkle

he was your spree driver (so unexpected ikr)

you got into his car when he pulled up and happily greeted him

he liked your kindness, he likes not awful people a ton

was real awkward with you but you didnt seem to mind (you were also a little awkward so it was like a mutual thing)

you asked him about the cameras and he told you it was for some webseries about safety as a driver or something (he said it very strangely so you kinda didnt trust him)

you leaned forward to talk with him more and you guys really hit it off

he thought you were cool, you thought he was a total weirdo

perfect match

the drive was painfully short though so you had to leave soon after you got in

when you got out you knocked on his window and complimented his service

you also gave him your number and he gladly took it

after exchanging numbers you placed your hand on his shoulder while thanking him

he went RED and stuttered out a 'your welcome' and also rambled about how hed love to drive you more often and stuff

after you left dude had to take a BREATHER

he wants you back in his car NEOW

rides the high that your touch gave him for the rest of the day (even a little bit the next day too)

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Dating Pedri González Would Include...

Dating this guy is being in a roller coaster, in a good way

You met him on a clothing shop, casually walking with your girl friend when he walked behind you and tripped causing him to step on your back heel pulling your shoe out.

"Puta madre, joder, I'm so sorry"

"...They were white"

"I'll buy you new ones"

"Nah, don't worry. I'll just give them a wash and all good"

The moment you smiled at him and not yelled at his face for his mistake, he fell for you.

You knew who he was but you also knew he was just another normal human being who was really good playing your favorite sport and outside the pitch he was just Pedro.

But still commented he should always be careful, look around and not only on the pitch with a smile on

"You know me?" He asked as you laughed lightly

"But you're also funny" You laughed "Kind of forgot who you are?" He shook his head still amazed by you

"Pedro González" He shyly said as you smiled

"Y/N Y/L/N" And with that you left

He searched up for you everywhere.

TikTok, Twitter, Instagram... You name it, he searched for you and he found you.

@ pedri asked to follow you

You smiled and accepted him

And ever since that day, he texted you daily, he found ways to connect with you, a friendship was born and later on, your relationship.

The amount of love this man has for you it's not countable.

He often uses Lightyear's phrase when you ask him how much he loves you: To the infinity and beyond

He's just deeply in love with you.

Talked about you to his parents.

And when you finally met them they instantly loved you. Rosy was happy she got you as the daughter she never had. And Fernando was happy his son was happy and in good hands.

Going to his matches with the 8 on your back, supporting him.

Having inside home dates and them being the best ones ever.

He L-O-V-E-S spoiling you.

He would gift you a bracelette with P.G8 in your three months anniversary, since that day you've never taken it off.

You on the other hand give him a black bracelette too with your initial and a football ball. He only takes it off when he plays.

Your parents love him and he loves them.

Whlist driving he would definitely have his hands with yours or on your thigh

Singing at the top of your lungs while he drives. Also being the DJ, often playing Quevedo, Rosalía and Taylor Swift

Car rides towards nowhere, just driving the two of you during midnight for late night McDonald's or the ones where you go to the beach or a little 2 days vacation.

Talking about driving.

He would and would not like to teach you how to drive.

He would because you look absolutely gorgeous in, with and doing everything. And he also would want you to drive him around sometimes. And he wouldn't because he loves driving you around and also he's afraid for the three of your lives. Your, his and his cars.

Either way, after lots of begging, he would accept.

Teaching you should be both a really good and bad memory together, laughing, spending good time with each other and at the same time he's shitting himself for both of your lives

"LOOK AT THE ROAD!" "I'M LOOKING!"

Fights like every other couple, but you both eventually calm down for a while and fix the problem.

He can get jealous, if he's feeling intimidated. Quickly showing everyone, who you belonged to. But he trusts you with his life.

You trust him too, but get jealous as well and mostly when there are some girls who ignore your existence and just shamessly flirt with him.

You can't believe their audacity.

You also know he doesn't have eyes for any other girl but you. He has let you know that and doesn't mind reminding you who he belongs to sometimes.

With sweet words, acts and you know...

He lives for making you happy.

"Pap-I mean... Pepi"

"Y/N"

You are best friends and lovers at the same time.

Everyone loves your relationship.

INSIDE JOKES

You could be out with the team or family

When Fer (mostly) says something and it reminds you both to something, expect you both crying in laughter and face fully red not being able to explain yourselves.

Fer hates when that happens but secretly he loves the fact his brother found his person.

His hand is in yours all the time.

He just loves grabbing your hand in his. Playing with your fingers calms him down.

Meanwhile you, play with his ring to calm yourself down.

You also love leaning into his chest, it's just so big, perfect and strong that you wanna lay there for the rest of your lives.

He would try and help you with homework but the second he saw the amount of calculations, laws and unknown words he got up.

"You get into it, I'll make you some food amd cheer for you"

He would share his food with you, surprising everyone in his house. Especially Fer

You looked at his plate and pocked his bicep a few times making him look at you "¿Qué pasa?" "Your chips look better than mine, can I have one?" He smiled kissing you softly "Las que quieras, bonita" He grabbed two "Venga, here comes the airplane"

When Fer tried it wasn't the same result tho

"Heyheyhey, what do you think you're doing?" "Grabbing a chip?" "No"

You would be the type of private but not secret couple.

Definitely being seen around sometimes, mostly in his car.

But no one knew your private life since all of your social medias were private.

His true fans, love you and love the fact you make their golden boy happy.

The guys teasing him as they see Pedri being whipped.

But they were happy for him that he found you.

He's happy that he found you. And he wants to have you by his side forever.

And you want him forever too.

Who knew a stranger in a clothing shop who pulled your shoe out would end up being the love of your life?

Expect a relationship full of love, laughs and joy.

So, like I said in the beggining. Dating Pedri is to put roller coaster mode on, in the best way possible.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt. 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Summary: For the most part swap Vision with mutant Y/N whose powers were enhanced by the Mind stone embedded in her forehead courtesy of Hydra. Takes place post Multiverse of Madness, only instead of trying to kill America Chavez, Wanda taught the teen how to control her powers and in doing so, learned how said powers worked herself, becoming able to copy them.

With her newfound powers, Wanda searches the multiverse for her lost spouse and children. She discovers a universe where Y/N exists but she and their sons do not. This aligns with her plans, allowing her to avoid dealing with another version of herself. Using her powers, Wanda intends to make Y/N love her in an attempt to rebuild their family. Whether she does so willingly, or the Scarlet Witch makes her, both are acceptable to Wanda.

Masterlist here

Chapter One

A silent scream escapes your lips as you gasp for breath. Another nightmare. Damn, that's the third one this week, and it's only Monday. Weary, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and head to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It's finals week, and you have an exam in a few hours. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's already 3AM and you groan. Maybe you can manage to get a couple more hours of sleep before the rest of the night slips away.

Lately, for some unknown reason, your troubled mind has been subjecting you to night terrors that make you question your entire reality. These nightmares have been unusually realistic, and you frequently experience more than one per night. At times, you are haunted by so many consecutive nightmares, causing your friends to wonder if you are getting any sleep at all.

The sound of your footsteps padding across the floor is the only thing you hear as you walk from your bedroom to the adjoining bathroom to wash your face. You don't bother turning on the lights since you have a nightlight in the bathroom. You've never been a fan of the pitch black darkness in the bathroom, but the bright overhead lights give you a migraine at the best of times. As a result, your bathroom is mostly covered in shadows, usually just enough for you to do what you need to do and then go back to bed. However, tonight is different. As you accidentally glance up at your reflection, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at you from behind, causing your heart to race.

As you spin around, you raise a fist to defend yourself against the intruder, only to realize that you are alone in your bathroom. You turn back to your mirror and find yourself alone once again. It must have been remnants of the nightmare. In a hurry, you turn on the faucet's cold water tap, run your hands under it, and splash your face. Although hesitant to fully look away from your reflection for fear of the 'intruder' returning, you still want to wipe the sweat from your clammy face.

It was just a bad dream. However realistic, it wasn’t actually real. Shaking it off, you quickly close the bathroom door and head back to bed, intent on getting as much of your remaining night’s sleep as you can before your exam tomorrow. Or rather, later today. 

A few hours later, you find yourself in your usual study spot at the university. The library is your safe haven, and it's definitely your favorite place to be. Even if you didn't have to study (which you absolutely did - you were so far behind if you had any hope of graduating with honors, you needed to spend every available moment here), you would often be found here simply reading a book. Your friends and professors are well aware of your voracious appetite for reading, so if anyone ever wonders where to find you, the answer is likely to be here.

Your first exam was in an hour, and you were cramming every last bit of knowledge you could before taking said exam. You needed the highest grade possible. Your future, your escape, depended on it. It could be argued that this desperation was why you initially didn't notice the sound of children's voices reverberating through the library. While the library was usually empty, it was not uncommon for adult students to bring their children with them to study when their own childcare plans fell through. It was inconvenient, but you tried to be considerate and simply tuning it out. Another day, another distraction, and you didn't have time for it.

Eventually, the disruptive sound became impossible to ignore, and despite your desire to not be rude, you needed to focus and get your work done. With more force than strictly necessary, you slammed your book shut, preparing to find a quieter place to study. However, just as you were about to stand up, two twin boys, around ten years old, came running down the library hall, filled with laughter and giggles, heading straight towards you. Your eyes widened as you realized they had no intention of changing their course - they were definitely going to collide with you.

Opening your arms to catch them, and hopefully prevent all of you from careening onto the ground, you found yourself asking “Hey what’s all this? Where’s your mother, you guys?”

The boys looked at you, confused. “What are you talking about, Momma?”

Your eyes turned the size of saucers. “Momma”? That was new. Someone must be playing a trick on you. How ~delightful~ you thought, annoyed. As if you weren’t already stressed out enough, someone had roped in a couple of kids to play a game of fuck around and find out. Well, whomever had put them up to this, when you found them, they were about to find out. 

The library's main door swung open, revealing the presence of an incredibly beautiful woman you estimated to be in her mid thirties, with fiery red hair and the most mesmerizing emerald eyes you had ever seen. Her appearance headed straight towards you left you speechless, immediately taking all the wind out of your sails. Oh well, you were always more bark than bite, you supposed. If you thought her looks were stunning, though, they paled in comparison to the melodic sound of her angelic voice.

“Billy, Tommy, come here boys!”

"Mommy!" the twins shouted at the same time before running into her arms. Part of you wanted to scold them for clearly breaking the library's code of conduct, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it when all three of them just looked so happy. You couldn't explain why your heart clenched at the sight of them either, but for some reason, now that the initial surprise had faded, you were soothed by their presence.

You observe their interaction, not wanting to interrupt their intimate moment. Your heart ached at how comfortable the family appeared to be with one another. Once the stunning woman appears reassured about her children’s well-being, she instructs them to go play and shooing them away before redirecting her attention towards you. You feel a pleasant tightening in your chest as her warm gaze focuses on you.

Even though the children have clearly disrupted your valuable study time, you find yourself dismissing it as if it were insignificant. "Oh, it's no problem, I understand how children can be." You don't, you have never had a sibling nor a child of your own, and you have never babysat a day in your life. 

"It's just that they missed you so much, darling," she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Huh?”

She takes a step closer, invading your personal space, and begins adjusting your shirt. One of the buttons had come undone at some point, and she seems determined to fix it. Part of you wants to point out that she, a complete stranger, should not be in your personal space, let alone touching your clothing. And what did she mean by saying that her children "missed" you? You didn't know them. You didn't even know her. Warning bells start ringing in your head, as you are pretty sure this is the plot of some horror movie. You should leave. This is not a level of crazy you can deal with right now. 

"The boys missed you, Detka. It's been a long time since you've been home, so we decided to come see you!" The woman finally finishes fixing your shirt and looks up at you. Though there is warmth in her expression, there's also a hint of madness, her once green eyes tinged with red.

“I-ah… that’s great, and all but I uhh.. I have an exam coming up, I need to get going.”

“Going?”

The warmth in the woman's voice is gone, replaced by a raspy iciness that sends a chill down your spine.

"My love, the only place you need to go is home, with us, your family."

You turn to face the woman and immediately regret it. Standing before you is no longer the woman in mom jeans and a plaid shirt. Instead, she appears to be dressed in some expensive sorceress cosplay that you estimate would cost thousands of dollars to create or purchase. When... when could she have possibly changed? Just a second ago she was dressed like a normal person, right?

Slowly, you take in the sight of her. Not only has her outfit changed, but her overall appearance as well. Her cheeks hollowed, the sockets of her eyes are sunken as if she hasn't slept in weeks, and her eyes are a glowing crimson. The same shade from your nightmares.

This isn’t real. This is another nightmare. One you need to wake up from. 

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” You whisper, as you turn and run.

Unbeknownst to you, the Scarlet Witch allows you to flee. With a flick of her wrist, she could have immobilized you, could have compelled you to accompany her, whether willingly or not, but she chooses not to. The pursuit begins, and she intends to enjoy herself. You will succumb to her, and do so quite prettily. She starts walking down the hallway after you, taking her time. After all, now that she has found you, she has all the time in the world to play with you.

Grace has never been a quality that you possess. In fact, you remember a song your mother made up when you were a child specifically to remind you just how graceless you were. Not that it helps you now, as your brain never finds the appropriate time to recall useless facts. Cursing your ineptitude, you rush out of the library as fast as your legs can carry you.

 Moments later, you’re throwing yourself into every door along the hall, however, none of them open. What is wrong with this place? Why is everything locked? You don't remember the university being so fond of locking everything, but then again, you only go to about the same four places. Variety might be the spice of life, but your stomach (anxiety) prefers a milder taste.

As you run, you hear the clicking of the woman's heels, hot on your trail. Or is she really hot on your trail? It sounds as if... you tilt your head, listening. She's walking? You think to yourself that surely you can outrun a woman walking in heels. Surely. (Your asthma would suggest otherwise). Abandoning yet another locked door, you rush further down the hallway. Maybe you don't need to outrun her or find a room to hide in; after all, barricading yourself would only delay the inevitable. Your goal is to reach civilization, to find other people. Speaking of which, where is everyone? Usually, this wing of the university is bustling with activity at this hour.

Exhausted, you pause to catch your breath, hands resting on your knees, hoping that you have managed to buy yourself some time. Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed as her low, raspy voice fills the corridors, humming what sounds like a lullaby in an unfamiliar language. The eerie sound sends chills down your spine, making it painfully clear that luck is not on your side. Where could she be? She is not next to you, nor ahead, yet her voice continues to echo, sounding almost...

Almost the same moment you realize the source of the danger, a hand reaches through the mirror from behind you and grabs your shirt with an unnatural strength. You scream loudly, hoping to alert someone in the building for help, but no one comes to your aid. "What the- LET GO OF ME!" You forcefully pull your shirt from her grip, tearing it in the process, and hastily retreat down the hallway.

To your horror, you see the woman's arm brace against the wall and begin to pull herself out through the mirror. You scramble to your feet, desperate to flee once again, with only one thought repeating in your mind: "What the fuck?!" None of this could be real.

"Y/N," a low voice said in a saccharine tone. "Where do you think you're going? Don't you know that I will always find you? I have crossed thousands of universes to find you, and now that I have you, I will never let you go." In any other context, this would probably be incredibly sweet. Currently however, it only fuels your fear, sending you into a blind panic. You have to escape whatever the hell this is.

Navigating through corridor after corridor you eventually  spot one of your classmates at the end, entering the exact exam room you needed to be in that morning. It's a desperate situation, but maybe they can buy you some time while you make your escape through a window or something. It’s not a brave thought, you’re not proud of it, but survival instincts have already kicked in. 

You quickly catch up to your classmate, despite initially being so much farther behind, managing to slide into the room just after them. The proctor promptly closes the door behind you. You're breathing heavily, and in your haste, you embarrassingly just slid into the backside of your classmate, with your shirt heavily torn. You must look ridiculous, but unsurprisingly no one questions you about it, your classmate simply looking miffed and whispering an insult as they move out of your personal space. The situation would be comical if you hadn't just been running for your life.

It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine. 

Steadying your breathing, you make your way to the back of the classroom, nearest the window and stare apprehensively at the door. You’re expecting any second now for that woman to come barging in, but she doesn’t, and now here you are ready for your exam. Wow you must really be losing it. Stress induced hallucinations, that has to be it.

Although you were hesitant to simply continue with your day, the world doesn't wait for anyone. Whether you actively participated or not, your proctor would still grade your exam, which your future still depended on. You made an effort to push the hallucination from your mind and concentrate on the information you had retained for the exam, aiming to achieve the highest score possible.

Once you have completed the exam, you hand it in and cautiously enter the hallway. The grades wouldn't be posted until the end of the term, but you were confident enough in your answers to believe that you had earned at least an A. Whether it was an A+ or A- was still uncertain, but you were hoping for the former. So focused were you on your test that you had almost forgotten about the incident earlier that morning. For a moment, you wondered if you should visit the university's nurse. Although she was not an actual doctor, it was a free service, and perhaps she could recommend something. On the other hand, at worst, she would suggest getting more sleep, and at best, she would advise you to see a doctor, which you couldn't afford. Not to mention the argument your parents would start regarding the doctor’s bill (as if they were above opening your mail). Perhaps not. 

You had no more exams for the day, so it was time to go home. There were chores to do for your parents, and then you had to study for tomorrow's exam. If you were lucky, you could finish everything early and get a few extra hours of sleep, hopefully avoiding another hallucination like today. Rubbing the exhaustion from your face, you head towards the bus stop. It was early enough that the bus should arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and you would be home in about an hour. Everything was going according to plan. Tomorrow was going to be a great day, you just had a feeling.

Once on the bus, your exhaustion started to overwhelm you, your headphones doing little to drown out the ambient noise. Before long, you were fast asleep. Even if you were awake, you probably wouldn't have noticed the viridian eyes in the reflection of the bus window watching over you. Unlike before, these eyes didn't appear to be of malicious intent. If anything, they seemed to observe you with care and empathy. If the volume of your headphones spontaneously happened to outweigh that of the alarm you had set for yourself to awaken you for your stop, that was just a coincidence.

A/N 2: sorry but the writers of the M.o.M. butchered her character just to have her shoehorned into a villain role so Strange would have an adversary already established in the MCU as a powerful magic user - I'm still salty about it. However Ms. Olsen's performance was phenomenal. Anyway lmk if this is absolutely trash or if you wanna maybe read more? I have a couple of chapters pre-written but not the entire thing.

Many thanks to my editors @flowers-shouldnt-die, and Brooke for helping me through this and providing valuable feedback! Especially @flowers-shouldnt-die for her assistance with translations in helping me learn both Hungarian and Russian for this. Wouldn't have made it this far in the story without you :3

[quiet-onset]

i've had some requests for more michael berzatto and fever pitch!reader, so instead of writing the whole part 2 (because I just cannot get it done for some reason), i'll post little drabbles of their time together and how she copes after he's gone. and if you have any ideas or suggestions, feel free to drop them in the asks and i can elaborate!

so yeah. this is how michael and fp!reader got into the whole situationship/fwb dilemma after the famous Christmas incident.

cw: mentions of addiction

You and Michael were not in a relationship. Christmas dinner was your breaking point, and that was it. That’s what you kept having to tell yourself. And your friends. And your family.

The first few months went largely without contact. You got some friends to help you move out of your shared apartment. You moved across town to lower the chances of running into him. You even cut down on contact with Richie, Marcus, Tina, and the others — anyone you’d met through him. As far as you were concerned, Michael no longer existed.

That’s what you told yourself. Until you saw him at the grocery store.

One of your friends was having a housewarming party, and you refused to show up empty handed. So you quietly stepped through the alcohol aisle as you searched for a wine your friend would like. You picked up a white wine and scanned the label when you heard footsteps stomping toward you. “What the hell are you doin’?”

You jumped in surprise, but his voice warmed you nonetheless. “Michael?”

“Why’re you buyin’ alcohol, huh?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You have an addiction.”

You snorted, “Not to alcohol.” At that, he snatched the bottle from your hands, but you snatched it back just as quickly. Your hand brushed his and a shiver ran up your spine; you took a step back. “Relax, it’s not for me. My friend’s having a party.”

“So you haven’t—”

“No.” You replied swiftly. “You?”

He shook his head, digging in his pants pocket. He pulled out three chips. “Four months next week.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” Michael returned the chips to his pocket, but his eyes never left yours. He tried to ignore the way his heart tugged at the sight of you, but it was no use. He hadn’t seen you since Christmas, and though he told everyone that he was over it, he knew from the moment your gaze met his, he was still all in. The head over heels kind of love, the type that completely overtakes him at the mere mention of your name. In short, he was not over it. “You, uh, you look good.”

You could help the heat that rushed to your cheeks, inwardly scolding yourself at reacting so quickly to his praise. “Thanks.”

“You said you’re goin’ to a party?”

“Yeah, just a housewarming kinda thing.”

His brow raised as he did a onceover of your outfit: a dark blue dress that stopped mid thigh, flaring out a bit complete with black high heels. “Pretty fancy for a housewarming.”

“Yeah, well, if you saw his place, you’d dress to the nines too.” You chuckled, tugging your light coat closer and tying it at the waist.

“His?”

You watched his reaction with a tight chest, observed as his brow furrowed and a frown started pulling at the corners of his mouth. And even as you felt the innate need to reassure that this friend was just that, your blood burned, setting you alight at his insinuation. He’d only said one word, but the intention was clear — Michael believed you owed him an explanation. How dare he question who you hung out with? After all he put you through, he had the nerve, the absolute gall, to think he was entitled to knowing what men walked in or out of your life.

“Something you want to say about that?” You asked, tilting your head coyly.

“Didn’t know you moved on so quickly is all.” He shrugged with a feigned disinterest.

“Not sure why you think it’s any of your business.”

“All I’m sayin’—”

“Because last I checked, we broke up.”

At that, he scoffed in disbelief. “Really? ‘Cause last I checked, I had no say in the matter.”

“Yeah, you were high at the time.”

He paused and huffed, taking a moment to collect himself. He deserved that one. “And then I sobered up and tried to call—”

“And I ignored you—”

“I tried!” He snapped, taking you aback. He took in your surprised expression, the way you gripped the bottle of wine slightly tighter. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, “I tried, sweetheart. I’m tryin’.”

And although his eyes stayed glued to yours, desperation for your love clear in the brown of his irises, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. You could see from your peripheral vision that his right hand was shifting around in his pocket when you realized: his chips are in that pocket. Just as you suspected, Michael held tight to those chips as he waited for a reply, anything, from you. He flipped them over and over between his fingers in silence, nervously awaiting the moment he anticipated. He waited for the yelling, the tears, the same look of disappointment that you gave him that brisk Christmas night.

Instead, your gaze softened. At first, he thought it was disappointment in your eyes but it wasn’t until you spoke that he realized it was something different. Regret, maybe? Longing. “I know you did. But we just… we weren’t good together. You know that.”

“No. Wanna know what I don’t know?” He stepped closer to you, and a bit of tension rolled off his shoulders when you didn’t step away. “I don’t know who I fuckin’ am without you.”

“Michael, you have your family, the restaurant—”

“My family — gotta love ‘em — is a fuckin’ mess. And the restaurant?” He heaved out a deep breath. “Baby, I’m just goin’ through the motions.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is? ‘Cause this?” He cupped your cheek in his large, warm hand, and you cursed in your mind, annoyed with how your body longed to give in to his touch. “This is it for me. You’re it.”

“Michael…”

“‘S Mikey.”

A beat of silence passed as his arm slowly wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Your breath hitched as your chest pressed to his, warm, solid, and safe. Against your better judgment, your gaze flitted down to his lips and back up to his brown eyes. “He’s just a friend.” You admitted quietly.

He gave you a small smile, “I know, baby.”

Later that night, you texted your friend an apology for missing his housewarming party from the warmth of Michael’s bed.

[btrflypov]

[♡] “i don’t kiss and tell”

“he’s just so annoying you know? it’s like he wants me one day and the other he acts like i don’t exist” you were rambling for what it seemed hours. repeating the same thing over and over again. “yeah he’s an ass” sandy replied sarcastically, at this point tired of your nonsense. “you know it would be so much better if you just told me who on the team you’re talking about”. truth is nobody knew about you and shohei. not because you didn’t want to but it was decided by him it was best to keep it secret for awhile.

“my guess is mickey!” patrick kept on spitting out names, never once mentioning the one on your mind. it was obvious no one ever expected you, mike trout’s little sister, to be messing around with the best player on the team. mike and shohei shared a very special teammate bond. your so-called “relationship” becoming public would only mean bad talk for them both. “sandy just focus on your pitching, let me do the talking in peace”. it was sunday afternoon, an off day for the halos, and since sandoval was starting tomorrow he asked if you could come and keep him company while he practiced throwing on the bullpen, something he regretted as soon as you opened your mouth to talk about boy drama.

after running your mouth for many more minutes you decided to leave the bullpen, letting sandy have some time to himself, walking through the field heading towards the dugout you decided to check your phone, in hopes that shohei remembered the plans you both made for the night. you were hoping to see a sign from him but you sighed as his name was nowhere to be seen in your recent messages, leaving you with little to no hope for the night. “like i said, he acts like i don’t exist” you whispered to yourself as you walked through the dugout and into the clubhouse.

you heard him before you could even see him. of course shohei was on the stadium on an off day, he just had to be. as you walked inside the locker room, ippei saw you first, “look who it is” he stated and shohei immediately locked his gaze with yours not saying a word. “hey guys what a coincidence, never in a million years would i’ve thought to find you here” the satire in your voice being obvious. “what are you doing here?” he finally got a word out. “i’m with sandy, he’s practicing in the bullpen” you replied coldly not letting his attitude get to you. ippei sensed the tension and decided to get a head start towards the pen, wanting to escape the drama.

“stop acting like that” shohei spoke again. you didn't understand him sometimes. his attitude and your non-helping doubts were getting in your head more than you wished they would lately. “like what? acting like what?” you raised your voice with no change in your tone. you were tired and he knew. “bebe please” his tone dropped becoming softer. you couldn’t resist him, it was impossible, even if you tried. his touch, his smell, his voice, everything was engraved in you. you loved him.

before you could get a word out he started to move closer to you, leaving no space between your bodies. his lips crashed into yours. you melted under his touch and he knew that. as your hands reached for the back of his neck he gripped your hips pulling you impossibly closer. "baby" he whimpered as you softly tugged his messy hair. keeping your lips locked you hummed in response. before your hands reached for his loosed belt and just as things were about to get heated sandy ran into the locker room “hey sho, ippei told me you were here-”. you and shohei instantly pulled away from one another at the sound of his voice, not wanting to give sandoval a show.

patrick found you both blushed and breathless.

“oh yeah hey sandy, see you out there” shohei quickly replied as he walked out of the locker room clearly wanting to avoid any awkward conversation between the three. sandy was left with the biggest smirk on his face watching you closely not even paying attention to shohei or what he said.

“ohtani, huh, it was him all along” sandoval stated between laughs.

“shut up patrick i have no idea what you’re talking about”

“don’t try to fool me, look at you, it looks like you just ran a marathon” his laughs making it harder for him to even sit up straight.

“sandy, i don’t kiss and tell” you said smiling and walking towards the exit door, leaving the man with the most mischievous smile on his face. after today, you knew you and shohei would never hear the end of it. you couldn't care less.

[curio-queries]

Do you think AYS is viable for a series after MS? Do you think Jimin and JK would want to carry on if they could?

Hi anon, thank you for this ask!

Personally, I do think AYS has been designed to allow for continuation post-ms but there are a few considerations:

Logistics with the rest of BTS as a whole team. It'll be astronomically easier to schedule travel with just two members rather than seven but these two members are still in a very high-demand group. It'll be interesting to see the juggle of schedules. More on this point below.

Format. Like I mentioned in a previous post, I believe the format of AYS evolved from its original pitch. The idea of a few mini-travel shows bundled together to form one cohesive show is definitely different. I wouldn't be surprised if the continue evolving the concept further. I have a theory of how this could work if they'd like to stick to the current formula but I'll list this below.

Finances/Distribution. The more we're seeing, the more I'm convinced that the show was pretty far into post-production when it was shopped to Disney for Distribution. If that's the case, then there'll definitely be some different options/discussions regarding licensing/Distribution of further seasons. I've purposefully avoided much of how Disney operates with streaming and original content so I know very little here but it's something that could impact any future of this show.

I'm sure there are more but that's all I've got off the top of my head.

So for my theory. This is purely based on the idea of keeping the show as close to the current concept as possible while not impacting any group activities. The easiest way this can be done will be to film mini-adventures with JM/JK as they travel around different cities on a concert tour.

We know many of the members frequently said they weren't able to leave their hotels and that it's something they'd like to do more. This would give them a controlled plan to make it happen occasionally. There'd still definitely be some major concerns to manage but if the goal of 2025 is to reassure ARMY that BTS is back as a complete team, that will have to be the highest priority and any activity that doesn't feature all seven members will have to fit in around group schedules.

I wouldn't be surprised if BTS's tour schedule is far more relaxed than past ones have been. Maybe not at the beginning, but they absolutely have been making the case that BTS will be about longevity going forward and you don't do that by burning out your talent. More time in the schedule will allow for some side journeys by our beloved JM and JK to neighboring cities/countries that they may otherwise never be able to visit.

But that's just a theory.

I do think they've both shown us adequate motivation that this show is something they'd be interested in continuing. It'll be a lot easier to manage another season of an existing show rather than get a new one together from scratch.

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - June 2024

What gives you the motivation for not giving up on Wander Over Yonder?

Well, for starters, when Craig McCracken brought up the uncalled-for cancellation, he also brought up the existence of…

The Plans

Here’s what Craig said in his Tumblr post from March of 2016:

“About a year ago we presented a pitch for a season 3 arc that promised to bring our characters together in new, unexpected, and hilarious ways. And just as S2 evolved from S1, we had a really exciting approach to evolving S3 even further. We had plans for new characters, the return of old characters, and even a bit of backstory! We were all really excited about the new direction and so were our bosses at DisneyXD and TVA.”

“Unfortunately, the higher up bosses of bosses of bosses at Disney decided not to continue with the show. It's not that they didn't like Wander, they just felt that 2 seasons and 80 cartoons was enough and they didn't see the need to produce any more.”

“For the record, this decision had nothing to do with the ratings performance of S2. Truth be told, we were informed that we wouldn't be continuing before S2 even premiered.”

If what he said is to be believed, the mediocre performance of S1 on Disney XD made the “higher up bosses of bosses of bosses” think WOY shouldn’t continue after S2, so they decided to cancel it five months after the pitch, one week before The Greater Hater premiered. Big mistake. After nearly a decade, Craig still keeps the plans for S3 under wraps, but his talk of S3 is enough to pique my curiosity. He piqued it even more when he brought up Star Force Enforcement Force in 2021. Truth be told, he knows way more about that third and final season than he let on.

At first, I thought S2 would wrap up the show nicely. Boy, was I wrong - it wrapped up S2, but not the whole show. Once I checked out The End of the Galaxy, I knew right then and there that one more season was planned, because in the end credits, I saw…

The Cliffhanger

I will admit, I found the last couple of minutes anticlimactic. Dominator spurned Wander’s friendship, Hater is still cuckoo for conquering (much to Peepers’s delight), and the main four are practically back where they began. I reiterate, it wrapped up the season nicely, but not the whole show, because what I’m about to describe is indicative of the show’s unfinished business.

Dominator walks off in angry defeat, trying to peel an orange (or open a jar of jam if you prefer, assuming you looked closely at what she grabbed), and she grumbles, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” Unbeknownst to her, she passes by a crash-landed space capsule with its door unhinged. Green lightning flashes, ominous Hater-themed music plays, and simian screeching is heard and fades into Hater’s evil laugh.

How is this anything less than an indicator of unfinished business? If stopping the show here is not a bad move, I don’t know what is. I’m positive English primatologist Jane Goodall would not be pleased with the decision to leave an ape stranded in space with no one around to help him. The question remains: who would find that space ape? Wander and the passengers aboard the Star Nomad or Star Force Enforcement Force? Only Craig and those who worked on the pitch with him would know and so would the bosses of Disney XD and DTVA. There’s also something that was on my mind after I watched the season finale. I shall now tell you about…

The Missing Pieces

I’m, of course, referring to parts that were absent from the episode and left unexplained. We’ve got the other villains, most of whom were last seen in The Bad Neighbors. Emperor Awesome made a silent appearance in The Sick Day, and that was it. As a certain @koskela13 indicated in a post 8 years ago, the villains never mustered up the courage to help the heroes fight against Dominator. There’s also Buster, the planet-sized puppy dog whom the Ballzerians call home. Since Beeza and the Ballzerians were among the refugees, he had to have fled from Dominator’s galactic onslaught. I found long ago that he’s supposed to be all right, but where he is remains to be seen. Same goes for Janet the Planet and her moon, Maurice; however, it was said that they were on their honeymoon, hence their absence in S2. Another thing that I think was left out was Wander getting to sing/play his banjo. Think about it, if the crew had wanted to stop after S2, would they have had Wander perform a glorious reprise of an upbeat song right after Dominator’s downfall? That was never done. It’s pretty obvious.

Moving right along, another thing that keeps me motivated is…

The Fan Content

Over the years, I came across countless fan pieces to make the Internet aware of the show’s existence, such as @wanderin-over-yonder’s calendars. It’s possible to come up with WOY-related activities, original characters, and meta gags.

Master Yisuko

Dr. Otmar Vunderbar

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the possibilities are endless.

I would expand more on the Star Nomad, but I’m sure you can find the information in my previous posts. As long as we’re talking fan stuff, let me refer to…

The Supporting Characters (and their VAs’ Longevities)

Apart from the five major characters, The End of the Galaxy had at least ten other characters speak solo (King Bingleborp, Destructor, the Cashier, Prince Cashmere, Neckbeard, the Lost and Found Guy, the Black Cube, Mittens, Major Threat, and Michelle). All the others barely had a chance to shine. For that reason, I put my effort into showcasing as many of them as I could in my fan fiction, The Eye on the Galaxy. What’s more, some of those characters are performed by voice actors over the age of 50. Stella Starbella was voiced by June Squibb, who was in her mid-80s while WOY was running. Today, she’s a nonagenarian, and if her performance in Inside Out 2 as Nostalgia is any indication, it’s not too late for her to reprise her role as that character. We might have until 2030 to revive the show, assuming June lives to be 100.

By the way, Major Threat was said to become a recurring character in S3, and we’ve yet to see him actually interact with Wander long after he put his days of villainy behind him.

Now I wish to bring up…

The Luck of the Other Shows

A vague and unconvincing reason for WOY’s cancellation was that two seasons/80 episodes were enough. I mean, really? Disney never felt that way about Fish Hooks, which I believe has three seasons and 110 episodes. Also, they allowed Star vs. the Forces of Evil to run for four seasons, putting it well over 100 episodes. And how about Big City Greens? Although not as frequently brought up as Gravity Falls, Amphibia, or The Owl House, it recently managed to get a whopping five seasons. They’re treating it like it’s the new Phineas and Ferb, although there’s no merchandising or presence in the parks. When I compare WOY to the aforementioned shows, it’s clear to me that it had the worst of luck. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if those other shows had pitches for later seasons. We can’t stand idly by while the plans made for WOY remain shelved. It just wouldn’t be right, y’know what I mean?

One more thing…

The Other Fandoms of Shows With Unfinished Business

I’ve noticed the presence of fans of shows that still have more to tell, including, but not limited to, Sym-Bionic Titan and Glitch Techs. One show that’s being resurrected as we speak is Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM), which ran in the 1990s for a measly two seasons and, just like WOY, was left on a cliffhanger (in this one, Snively re-emerges in a different outfit and is raring to take his uncle’s place and put a stop to the Freedom Fighters, and behind him stands Naugus, who somehow managed to escape the void). Fortunately, a group called Team Sea3on are working on a S3 premiere titled “Return to Robotropolis.” You can find this group on just about any social media platform - their determination to right the wrong done to the show is truly inspiring.

Did I mention shows like Hey Arnold! and Samurai Jack got closure after years of being neglected and incomplete? The same thing could happen to WOY if we persevere. Invader Zim, which also only got two seasons, got its overdue closure (I think) in the form of a Netflix-exclusive movie. If a season is too much work, fewer episodes or a two-hour TV movie should suffice.

And I think that’s about it for now. I hope all this information was enough to keep you all motivated! Fight on for fairness, my friends, and to those of you who think of The End of the Galaxy only as a SEASON finale, I thank you.

#CanceledCartoons

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Spicy plz I’m so bored ;-;— could you grace me with some headcanons for yandere America with an s/o who seems oblivious to his tendencies but is actually just. Pretty okay with it? Like they feel like this is the best they’re gonna get so they may as well make the most of it? Despite my casual tone I’m very okay with you ripping my heart out with angst or despair in any way you see fit <3

Probably not my best work but still hope you like it!

Okay warning ya'll this post is SPICY also it goes over abusive relationships so if that's not for you I suggest that you turn away now.

Your problems all began when you were let into the real world after college. It would be easy, they said. You just needed your degree, they said. Then it would be ‘smooth sailing’. 

Sure. SURE. That was a load of total bullshit. You now had to battle tooth and nail just to have the basic necessities barely. Your future looked bleak. ‘The Dream’ that originally you wanted to achieve: Get married, have two kids, have a house you owned, and maybe a fancy car that yu could show off and keep up with the Joneses. Best them even. 

You simply wanted more time with your family and friends, so you avoided applying to ghost jobs and attending interviews that ultimately led nowhere. You did freelance work like writing gigs, catering, and the occasional art commission in order to keep your head above the water. 

Some days were easy, but most were difficult. Keeping the tiny flame ignited within you to keep you going was a 24 hr 7-day 7-day-a-week kind of job. With each passing day, finding the will to exist was getting harder. 

‘Why do anything if I’m constantly feeling empty?’ 

You felt as though you were on a pitch-black road where your flashlight could only reach 2 ft in front of you. 

That was until Alfred burst into your life in the early morning sun rays that broke through the deep blue-black of the nighttime sky. His outward warmth brought the birds to life and made the flowers blossom. He was the bright person you needed to be around you. Even if that meant you tolerated his sinister tendencies that you commonly wrote off as him being an excellent protective boyfriend in a somewhat twisted way. 

Alfred always knows where you are. He ensures the Find My iPhone tracker is activated and shares your location with him at all times. When you first saw it, and he didn’t even bother to ask or even tell you that he did so… You simply ignored it. He was your boyfriend, and that’s what good boyfriends do…..protect their highly vulnerable S/O and part of that is knowing where you are at all times. 

Things don’t escalate if you’re incredibly passive and are compliant with the rules that Alfred sets for you. You will have a lack of privacy. He gets far more possessive if individuals (s) in your midst are suspicious or seem to be far too friendly for his liking. You become afraid of him when he raises his voice while interrogating you about one of your friends or acquaintances. Alfred’s fist will have made another gaping hole in the wall, which sometimes makes you fear for your life or your family. You would nearly jump out of your skin every time you came home & you saw his infamous frown combined with sapphire blues holding back famished flames, needy for more people to devour if they dared to come in between the two of you. 

Anyone who dared to challenge him on any of his behavior would be silenced swiftly. Most of the time, his victims would never be seen again; other times, they’d end up with some horrific injury or illness that prevented his targets from having the willpower to fight back or squeal. 

You always wondered why it had become much more difficult for you to maintain genuine friendships. You glossed over the fact that Alfred demanded 110% of your attention. This makes it hard for you to have a life outside of him. He also has enforced a curfew on you. 

‘He does that so some creep doesn’t try to kidnap me.’ That would be one of the excuses that you tell yourself in order to excuse his behavior. Besides, how long has it been since you were able to get a date before him? Two or three years, probably more, since so much time has passed since you’ve had a serious long-term relationship. You couldn’t really remember at this point. 

Whenever he objects to you leaving the house, 98% of the time, you employ some tactics when dealing with him. Negotiation. You primarily used this tactic when the effects of becoming stir-crazy have become unbearable. You feared that you would be swallowed up by his home and never seen again. 

“Alfred….” your eyes will search the hardwood floor for the perfect combination of words that will assist in getting you to some level of freedom. 

“I really want some fresh air….and…it’s been forever since we’ve had a cute date on in the park….or going to my favorite restaurant that is on the promenade….” Your eyes cautiously climb up to meet his. You braced yourself for the possible avalanche that was going to careen towards you if you didn’t plant your ice ax in neutral snow. 

“Where I first began to fall in love with you truly!” You blurted out with partially feigned fervor. Enough energy was behind your words that you could see Alfred’s shoulder relax. His freshly trimmed eyebrows were raised in curiosity and disbelief. However, he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. You needed to stroke his ego a little more. He needed reassurance that you were utterly smitten with him. His continued silence was a sign for you to continue with your argument. 

“I know when the last sun rays of the day hit your magnificent sky blues, I know that we were meant to be together.” It will feel like an eternity has passed before Alfred finally responds. 

“Alright, babe.” 

You hear him rise from his spot on the couch & make his way towards you. 

“We can go tonight, but you’ve got to get dressed in something better than that~” Alfred will have pinned you to the front door as he whispers in your ear his other demands he has for you. Usually, it’s that of a sexual nature. Alfred does have you do things like: have you wear a skimpy outfit while you iron his clothes, and give him head while he reads comics or plays video games. You’re not allowed to deny him anything that he asks of you when you work out a ‘deal’ with him. If you do you’ll have to do double of whatever it is along with being chained to the bed for a few days. 

Essentially dear reader you have Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless of what torture he puts you through, you wouldn’t want your life any other way. After all, it was Alfred who brought forth the morning sun in your life which felt as though you were cursed to be within a state of eternal midnight. 

Who were you to complain when he saved you from being on the streets whose jagged teeth had the flesh of the unfortunate on them but always eager for more.

So what if you were a little traumatized?

So what if you sometimes you had scars whenever you did something to set the sleeping volcano off?

It was better than being awash amidst the sea of people who merely became a number to add to a statistical data set. 

Alfred does weaponize sex a lot within your relationship. Not only is it a bargaining tool whenever you are desperate to meet your social needs as a human, but you use it to stop his occasional rampages, get some level of privacy (for example, showering by yourself or being able to keep a dairy without him snooping in it) 

Since Alfred is an exhibitionist & will never turn down an opportunity to showcase his power over you, he will have you do extreme things with him. He’ll demand that you have sex in public with him, like in the park, at a movie theatre, at Disney World on a dark ride, or even on the top of the roof of a government building. If it’s risky as hell with an epic story to tell, then Alfred will want to rail you there. Bonus: he will want you to be butt-naked in the car as well. Alfred will want you to feel every ounce of embarrassment, shame, & every emotion in between that makes you feel vulnerable and powerless. However, this punishment will only occur if you’re stupid enough to try and plan an escape away from him or say something that majorly punctures his ego. 

No matter how much he made you cry, made you bleed after sex, siphoned you off from your support system, and kept you firmly under his thumb… your low self-esteem told you that this was what you deserved. This was normal. This was how all couples behaved.

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Hi!! I've got some questions for the dragon prince au because I absolutely adore it

Does Hiccup have the same ability as Ezran (talking to/communicating with animals) or something similar?

Also you said Toothless was a midnight dragon in your au would they be like night furies in the sense of being endangered or rare?

How/when does Hiccup lose his leg?

And if Jack is a mage in training, who's he training with?

@saturnniidae bestie, im SO GLAD YOU ASKED OH MY GOD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I'VE BEEN WANTING TO RAMBLE ABOUT THIS!

In order:

Ooohhh that’s a good idea. I actually hadn’t thought of Hiccup being able to communicate with animals, but it would definitely be a fun thing to add! Maybe not to the same extent as Ezran’s abilities, but i think Hiccup would definitely be more in tune with animals and dragons than anyone else from Berk. Or at least, anyone who’s currently living in Berk >:)

Kinda! So i went through the different dragons listed to exist in Xadia and i was trying to find some kind of tie-in and similarities between the two universes. And the Midnight Dragon seemed to match Toothless’s description the best. They’re said to have pitch black scales, sensitive eyes, and are quite shy. Which i think Toothless matches quite well, minus the shyness, and being in another universe there can be some attributes that aren't One-for-One to the OG universe. Plus it's fun to mess around with concepts. And we haven’t seen a Midnight Dragon yet, in the show or otherwise, and since they’re said to be shy, it makes sense that they wouldn’t be out and about a whole lot. So i think they’re definitely a rare dragon to see. They also have a Moon Arcanum too, and that helps tie in with Toothless being a Night Fury :)

How does Hiccup lose his leg? No idea. Still working on that plot. There’s like several different scenarios im thinking of and i haven’t figured it out quite yet. But during the main part of the story he’ll have both legs. For now >:) (Also this takes place a few years before the events with Callum, Rayla, and Ezran. Jack is 17 and Hiccup is 18 and im currently working on incorporating the other characters from both franchises rn. TRUST ME I’VE BEEN THINKING! THEY HAVE NOT BEEN FORGOTTEN)

Who's Jack's mentor? Another great question that i haven’t decided on yet. I had the idea for Jack’s mentor to be Nightlight, but then i thought that if anything he’d be a Startouch elf and not a Skywing. And now i’ve been thinking ‘what if he was self-taught?’ Like he’d gather books and scrolls, and try to figure it out on his own. Maybe some help here and there from other elves, but it’s never been a formal education. Kind of similar to Callum in books 1 and 2. 

But yeah! This is what's been banging around in my head for two weeks so far. Thank you SO MUCH FOR THE ASK it is MUCH APPRECIATED!! Always love the chance to ramble about my au ideas and the thoughts behind them

If you got any other questions, feel free to send any more questions! I've be HAPPY TO ANSWER THEM!

[trollprincess]

Since my birthday is tomorrow, I figured I would make a short list of what I want just in case anybody is in a giving mood:

Money.

Any of the many, many, many minidollhouses on my Amazon wishlist.

For the Leverage team, and in particular Hardison, to hack into the system and wipe out our collective student debt. (And also all the medical debt while he’s at it.)

A free ticket to go back in time and watch Queen perform at Live Aid from the front row.

The ability to teleport.

A lifetime supply of red licorice laces and salted roasted pumpkin seeds.

For Pringles to start making those cinnamon sugar tortilla chips again.

To dump a truckload of elephant diarrhea on Ronald Reagan’s grave.

I said money, right?

To lose forty pounds in one night, preferably without delivering a child I didn’t even know I was pregnant with or losing at least one limb.

Five more seasons of “Sense8.”

That really fancy train ride from Paris to Istanbul that costs like 80k Euros.

The ghosts of the people in town who died of COVID to haunt the newspaper editor who added “Are you better off now than you were four years ago?” to his enormous Trump sign out front of his office.

One free month at the Library Hotel in NYC where I’m not allowed to do anything but read and write.

A literary agent.

A pitch-black Victorian house decorated with 90s movie witch vibes.

A Bluetooth connection between my brain and my phone so I can just download my goddamn story ideas instead of wasting time typing them out.

For all of my WIPs to edit and polish themselves.

A free maid service that doesn’t judge about the depression mess and makes me a tea before they go.

A wallet that always has the exact amount of money I need inside it whenever I open it up and can never be stolen or lost from me.

The ability to choose to watch a show I’ve been meaning to watch instead of watching the same old show for the eleventy millionth time.

For someone to come repair the patch of cross-stitching I fucked up so I don’t have to.

My own capybara.

Yup, definitely said money. I take PayPal, Venmo, CashApp, Zelle, carrier pigeon, singing telegram, personal delivery by Janelle Monae, and the quiet but satisfying feeling of all my creditors suddenly forgetting I exist.

Chocolate chip cookie dough without the chips in a jar that never empties.

To live long enough to finish all the books in my TBR pile.

For Professor to live just as long as I do, if not forever beyond that.

For Elon Musk to eat several thousand fried dicks.

For Donald Trump to end up broke and alone with every single one of his followers having finally realized the emperor has no clothes.

World peace, free education for all, universal healthcare, high-speed rail, the end of poverty and bigotry, kindness throughout the land, and for whatever embarrassing memory pops into your head at the worst of times to vanish from existence as though it never, ever happened.

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter two: prayer )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time. warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues. author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous. all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat. special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.

It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.

"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."

It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."

Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.

Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.

A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.

The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.

His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him. 

Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand. 

“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”

He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”

“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”

Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.” 

He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more. 

Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches 

involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.

Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.

It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice. 

“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”

Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”

Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.

Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”

A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.

“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong. 

“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.

“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”

Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be. 

Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg. 

"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.

Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.

“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?” 

Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.” 

In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband. 

His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”

Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more. 

“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.” 

Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long. 

“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."

Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.

“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”

A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much. 

“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”

Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”

Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.

Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization. 

Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?

He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.

She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.

Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.

Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently. 

Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"

Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."

Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."

"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally. 

"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with. 

If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.

"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"

“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”

Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales. 

“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling. 

“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”

A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has. 

"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."

Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”

“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.

“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.” 

Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron. 

Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.

“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.

Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child. 

She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her. 

“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”

Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”

Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”

There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach. 

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”

Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”

Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child. 

It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him. 

“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things. 

His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”

“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.

“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.

“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she? 

Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat. 

The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband. 

“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does. 

And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.

It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.

Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.

“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”

Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again. 

“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company. 

A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it. 

“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment. 

“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”

Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this. 

Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working. 

She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it. 

A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.

“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.

“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her. 

“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed. 

“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her. 

Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair. 

“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.

She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table. 

She calls him back over the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally,  @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.

additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?

[azlan-snow]

Broadcast Husbands

Chapter Twenty-Three:

(Told from Charlie’s POV. directly after Vox and Husk leave the Hotel.)

“Alastor? Can you here me?” Nothing. “Crap. Vaggie!”

“Coming!” She shouts through the floor. She Flies down the stairs with great speed, almost stumbling down them entirely.” "Yeah honey?”

“Can you find my Dad? I can’t sense him anywhere.”

“Of course! What’s wrong?”

“Alastor.” I point to his frozen body, showing her what happened.

“Vox and I were talking about Earth with him but Vox snapped when Alastor revealed something about his past that he hadn’t told Vox. It was bad. Vox started glitching out and yelling then Alastor froze. Stopped breathing and everything. He hasn’t moved yet.”

“Got it. I’ll go get your dad and relay the information.”

“Thanks sweetie.” I kiss her head and send her on her way, standing back in front of Alastor. “Please be okay in there.”

“Char-Char! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?”

“No, Dad. It's not me. It's Al.”

“Oh. What happened? Wait. Nevermind. Vaggie already told me. What would you like me to do?”

“I need to wake him up.”

“Just shake him.”

“Not from out here, Dad. In there.” I point at his head. 

“Oh. Well, how do you want to do that?”

“Can you get me in there?”

“Charlie! You’re not actually-”

“I am, Dad. I think it’s the only way.”

“That’s a stupid idea! Do you know how much danger that puts you in!? You could die in there!”

“What? What is he talking about?” Vaggie looks worried. 

“That’s not necessary, Dad. I don’t need you to send my girlfriend into a full blown panic.”

“Panicking is necessary! You don’t understand!”

“Then MAKE ME!” Dad yells, shouting at the top of his lungs. His face returns to normal before turning completely white. Then the room turns pitch black.

“Charlie!” Vaggie calls, voice barely reaching my ears. Then falling. Quickly. I scream in fear, plummeting downwards. But I begin to slow down, coming to a halt gradually. “Charlotte.” 

“Al? Al! Where are you?!” I look around, trying to figure out where the heck he was.

“Charlotte. What are you doing here? It isn’t safe.”

“What do you mean? You brought me here.”

“I did. I felt you in danger. I reacted.”

“From your subconsciously-paralyzed state? Why?”

“I already answered that question: I felt you in danger. You felt fear for a moment, correct?”

“Yes, why?”

“That’s why.”

“You just knew that I was scared and decided to bring me into your brain? Funky.”

“Not really my brain. Dimension. Like the bayou in my room. Separate, but on the same plane of existence.”

“Interesting. Well, then you can answer my question.”

“And what might that be, my dear?”

“What made you so afraid?” Alastor looked offended by my question.

“I fear no one, dear Charlotte.”

“Never said you did. But you froze when Vox started yelling at you for hiding things about your life.”

“Charlotte. I will tell you what I told him: I keep secrets for a reason.”

“You mean like how someone owns your soul? Secrets like that? Does he know about that?”

“Yes. The more important question is how do you?”

“I can see it. Just like my father can.”

“How come he or you haven't said anything?”

“Because it's not our place to intervene.” He looks at me, pondering how to carefully plan out his next steps, I assume. He's always precarious. “Would you like me to free you?” He stops. Looks like I hit the target dead on.

“No. That's too risky. I don't want to bring danger to the Hotel.”

“Who owns your soul, Alastor?”

“No, Charlotte.”

“Answer the question, Alastor.”

“No.”

“Why?” 

“Because it's too risky.”

“I can handle the risk.”

“No, you can't. Lucifer can't either.”

“Who's stronger than the King of Hell?”

“One person. That's all your getting.”

“Fine. Can we go back now? It's really dark in here.”

“Very well.” Alastor snaps his fingers, bringing us back to the Hotel. 

“Charlie!” My father and Vaggie call, running over to me. They hug me tightly, practically crushing me. “Can't…breathe.” They release me, smiling. “Sorry,” they say in unison. 

“It's okay. I forgive you both.” They begin to cry, thanking me for forgiveness.I turn around to  see Alastor, smiling at me, before walking over and hugging me tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.” That caught me off guard. Alastor’s not one for touch. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You startled me is all. I wasn’t expecting your power to swoosh me away.”

“You caused the darkness?” Lucifer asks, confused at Al’s sudden appearance.

“Indeed. You scared your daughter, Lucifer. Shame on you.”

“Shame on me? You’re the cause of this, you lanky prick.”

“If you hadn’t yelled at her, I wouldn’t have plunged the room into darkness to pull her out. You’re welcome.”

“You-!”

“Enough! Both of you! You’re acting like children!” I separate the two, making sure they’re far enough apart. “Both of you need to calm down, okay?”

“Yes, my dear,” Alastor replies, a calmer expression lying on his face.

“Of course, Char-Char. Whatever you wish.”

“Thank you. Now, who's hungry?”