#it's probably better to have a backup plan in place than not

[zelzahdarkcloak]

I'm very inconsistent on Tumblr in general, so if the end is imminent (whenever that actual date may be), it's not so much a loss of my own posting and more missing all of everyone else's excellent content. :(

If you do want to find me elsewhere, I am still active on Discord under the same username. There's already so many communities we may run into each other on, but otherwise feel free to shoot me a dm! (I do take breaks from Discord too but I will reply eventually).

I do also have a backup account on cohost, but it's empty currently (and under a different name). I may transfer some of my favorite posts and use it as an archive (?) but otherwise it'll be private until a later date. In that scenario, I'll just send the link to it directly to people.

Regardless, it was amazing knowing you all! Until we meet again. <3

-Zelzah

[raylynnn]

Katsuki x Y/n (Drummer Katsuki AU)

Warnings ⚠️ heavy smut, BJ, fingering, oral, vaginal sex, cursing, and getting caught. Hope you enjoy<3

It was out of nowhere honestly. The group had joked and dabbled in the thoughts of starting a band, but no one ever thought it would take off like it did. It started off as more of a joke, I mean seriously we probably had 2 maybe 3 people who could actually play instruments. We all knew Katsuki could play the drums and knew Jiro could play about any instrument you threw at her. But the others not so much, including yourself. You and Mina excepted that this whole “band” thing wouldn’t work for you two. So y’all were just kind of the girls who took tickets and then watched behind the curtain while the others killed it on stage. You had Katsuki as your drummer, Ejiro as your bass player, Sero as your backup bass guitarist, and Kaminari as your lead guitarist. Everything worked out that way.

You and Mina would regularly go watch their band practices and plan out their next concert and etc, but out of the group you were definitely the closest to katsuki other than Ejiro. At performances his only focus was the music, not the crowd surfing, not the absurd amount of fangirls flashing him from the crowd, or the money, but sometimes you’d catch him let go a little bit, every time he did he’d look at you watching from the corner of the stage. Sometimes especially if the band killed it you would catch him giving a small smile at you from the stage. At one of the garage practices they were trying this new song that jiro had written. And it was a big step from their usual music. She had given Katsuki a drum solo. And he would never admit it, but he was nervous when he couldn’t get it the first try. He had played drums for so long their wasn’t much he couldn’t play.

The practices lasted about 2-3 hours, but katsuki waited behind for a bit. He couldn’t get it down and jiro had reminded him multiple times he had plenty of time to master it but he just wasn’t satisfied. Since you didn’t play an instrument the least you could was lend them your garage right? And lots of times one or two members would stay behind to work on some music solo, and it never bothered you cause to you it just meant they were dedicated.

About 30 minutes after practice ended everyone pretty much had left. So it was just you and Katsuki. You went to your room for a bit just to chill out but you started thinking about how close you and katsuki were compared to the others. You wanted to seek him again, talk to him or something. You were about to get a drink from the fridge out in the garage anyway..so what could it hurt really.

When you headed out to the garage you saw katsuki looking over the music once again before hammering at the solo again it sounded a lot better but it wasn’t as fast as it needed to be from what jiro had said earlier. “Still working on it?” You said as you opened the fridge door. Katsuki set his sticks down before wiping the sweat off his forhead looking over at you and you grabbed a water. “Tch..yeah I can’t belive I’m saying this, but this solo is kicking my ass” he said tiling his head back a bit stretching his back from being hunched over the drums for so long. You tossed a water to him which he caught taking the lid off. “How long have you played again?” You said thinking it over, must of been a while to be as good as him. “I started playing when I was 6, so probably 12 years” he said taking another sip. “What about you nerd? You play anything?”

You let out a soft laugh before shaking your head. “Haha..no I tried a few times but never stuck with me, always thought the drums were cool though” you said as you closed the top on the bottle. Katsuki chuckled slightly before patting his lap gesturing for you to come closer. “C’mere” he said softly. He got out of the chair and stood behind you while you sat down of the stool chair. He took the sticks and placed them in your hands fixing your hold and posture. He grabbed your wrists gently before hovering your hands over a symbol and a smaller snare. “Here put your foot on the base drum, and tap your foot against the pedal continuously and take your right hand and hit this-“ he explained oddly calm and relaxed, his lips near your ear as he talked you through the steps. “Dammit” you muttered after your 3rd attempt of trying the simplest beat.

“Here get up.” He said you got up thinking he had given up on you but then he pulled you into his lap and positioned you just like you were before instead his foot was on the base. He grabbed your wrist and started maneuvering your wrists like a puppet. The beat came out at a good Rhythm thanks to him basically playing the drums for you, but you didn’t give two shits. You were in Bakugo’s lap with his hands on your wrists and his face close to yours. So you were winning anyway.

Getting closer to the end you started moving your wrists on your own with his grip still guiding you but with all this movement..you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him until his hands faltered all of sudden when you moved back on his crotch. Fuck. You didn’t even mean to but that’s all it took. You weren’t fully sure so you tried something. You stopped with the drums for a second before muttering. “Um..hey katsuki can you move your keys It’s a little uncomfortable to sit on” he rested his forhead on your shoulder trying to hide his best red face. “Those..t-those aren’t my key” he said flustered as ever hoping he would just nuke right there. Your face flushed red as you giggled slightly. “Excited are we~?” You giggled out. He brought his hand to his face trying to conceal his burning hot cheeks. “Tch..shut it, it’s y-your fault” he muttered out trying to fix himself under you. Suddenly without thinking you went to get up rubbing back once more this time stealing a groan from the boy under you.

“Ngh..” he groaned slightly. You relized this was your mess to clean up. If you had just stayed in your room none of this would have been happening. I mean the least you could do was help him out. You sighed nervously before getting up and dropping to your knees. His eyes widened before he stuttered out. “W-what are you doing..?” He said covering the lower half of his face with his palm. “Just..shut up and let me take care of you..ok?” You said undoing his belt before slipping them down till his boxers were visible. He wasn’t just hard he was solid. All because of you. That tent in his boxers with a little wet spot assumably pre. The big bad katsuki all of sudden looked so vulnerable so needy and eager. God this was such a beautiful sight.

You looked up at his before taking his boxers down. “Is this ok Katsuki?” You said laying your head ontop of his crotch. He nodded eagerly. “Y-yes..” he stuttered. You slid down his boxers revealing his cock. Pretty and pale with a light pink tip smeared with pre, god he was perfect. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps before taking it into your mouth you only reached about halfway yet he was already throwing his head back and gripping onto your hair. It took so much not to just you like a rag doll and push you down farther but he managed for you using the last ounce of respect he had. Your mouth left his dick with a loud pop before you muttered saliva dripping down your chin and eyes lidded. “Just use me katsuki.” You could tell he was getting needier from below.

His eyes widened before he gripped your hair shoving you back down on his cock. Shoving you down till your nose hit his blonde tuff. “Ngh..fuckkk. Your so fucking g-good for me..f-fuck” he said bucking his hips into your mouth, you could tell he was close. You braced your hands on his thighs digging your nails slightly deeper as he used you like some sort of fuck doll. “Fuck..baby- ah fuck I-I’m gonna..g-gonna..” he babbled thrusting impossibly faster. “FUCK!” He said before he shot his load into your mouth and once you pulled off slightly choking he released the rest onto your face and chest. As he rode out his high he started babbling on and on about how good you felt. “B-baby..f-felt so good..need you a-again..” this is was such a different side of katsuki and you were loving it.

You had a cheeky smile worn on your cum covered face as you watched him calm down a bit. When he caught his breath he locked eyes with you and relized the mess he had made of you. “Fuck..sorry I didn’t mean to be too rough” he said taking your jaw into his hand while using his other hand to grab a rag he had next to his drum set for when he gets sweaty. He took it to your face and wiped most of it off. “Heh..it’s ok I liked it, plus..I kinda told you too” you said sheepishly while trying to conceal the slight red tint on your cheeks. He just smiled at you as he wiped your face “yeah well..we’re not done yet pretty” he said tossing the rag to the side as he scooped you up setting you in his lap facing him this time.

You giggled as he sat you in his lap. He smirked slightly before bringing his lips to yours. God everything about you was so intoxicating. He could get drunk just off your lips. He brought his hands from your waist to resting of the fat of your ass squeezing gently. He trailed open mouth kisses down your neck till his got to your collar bone, he pulled away from your skin looking up at you through his soft lashes. “Can I take this off..?” He asked tugging at the hem of your shirt. You smiled softly before nodding and kissing forehead gently. He lifted your shirt off your shoulders leaving you now in just your leggings and black laced bra. “Fuck your gorgeous..” he muttered before groping your breasts gently before unclipping your bra.

When he finally took off your bra you almost thought he was mimicking kaminari when he would go dumb. When he finally snapped out of it he looked up at you with hungry eyes and you could tell somthing changed. “Lift your ass up hon” he said grabbing your ass and gesturing you to hover. Once you did he slid off your leggings and pulled your panties to the side. “Fuck..look at her already soaked for me yeah?” He said swiping a finger through your lips. He took two fingers into his mouth after coating them he brought them to your slit once again his thumb rubbing soft circles while one finger started to prod into your little hole.

Your eyes widend and you gripped his shoulders trying to brace yourself. He slid in another finger moving at quick pace. “Yeah? Does that feel good pretty?” He asked whispering in your ear while you bucked against his fingers. You were too blissed out to answer until he slapped your clit. “I need an answer princess..” he growled. You whined at his mean way to keep you in line but soon you babbled out your praises. “Y-yes..f-feel sooo..” you babbled out trying to answer him but he started to remove his fingers leaving you feeling empty. He wrapped his hand around his cock and brought it to your entrance. “This ok pretty..?” He said looking into your big innocent eyes.

You nodded your head hoping he’d give it to you but he just sat their. “I need an answer pretty, I won’t fuck you unless you tell me it’s ok” he said sternly. You smiled softly before whispering, “y-yes..you can fuck me katsuki..I need you to fuck me.” You said holding onto his hand. He grinned slightly at your words before taking his cock and lining it up with you again. He pushed slowly entering your pussy, he let out a small quiet groan and he was only tip in.

“Oh god k-katsuki..” you moaned out as he layed your body back sprawled out against the drums as he stood up slightly hovering over you as he pushed in farther. Once he was half way in he stayed still for a second trying to give you time to ajust. “Am..am I g-good to move pretty..?” He asked sweat beading down the sides of his face. “Yes please..” you moaned out. He soon started to move at a slow pace before gradually getting faster. He really tried to hold back, to hold onto the last bit of self control he had..but he simply couldn’t not with how your walls were squeezing him so tight, your greedy cunt sucking him in like your life depended on it. Soon he was railing the fuck out of you. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming right back into your greedy cunt.

He was stuffing you full, you felt high almost you could remember how this even started and you didn’t even want to imagine it ending. The way he pounded into your soft hole treating you as you were some time of toy somehow only made you wetter. His grip on your waist was dangerous, you were holding onto the rim of the snare drum trying not to break it, he noticed this and figured you were uncomfortable so he raised you from your back, his dick still digging into you like a dog. He sat you in his lap and thrusted his hips up to meet yours. This position made you feel him a lot deeper causing you to lose yourself in the moment.

“FUCK..oh god..oh my god K-Katsuki! Fuck me baby! Cmon please..p-please don’t stop dadd- K-katsuki..” you babbled out like a slut. You were to caught up in the pleasure of his cock assaulting your cunt you didn’t even notice you were calling him daddy. His eyes widened before he smirked like a devious mf. “Fuck. Call me that again princess..” he said lifting you up off his dick almost all the way before slamming you back down. You moaned out loud due to the overwhelming pressure. “Fuck d-daddy..please” he smirked again and his movements started to get sloppy. “Fuck baby..tell me your close..” he groaned resting his head between your tits.

“Y-yes baby..gonna..gonna CUM” you moaned out bucking your hips to meet his as you had a death grip on his shoulders. “!Cum..cum..cumming” you moaned out as your body shook and trembled over his cock. Soon he whispered “f-fuck where can I cum..” you didn’t even answer you just wrapped your legs around him and trapped against your soaked cunt grinding against him trying to ride it out. His eyes widened as he thrusted hopelessly against your pussy whimpering like a dog. “Yes..yess! Plzplzplz..” he babbled shooting his hot, sticky, load into your cunt. “Fuck baby..” he muttered. your body’s both relaxing into each others touch.

He pulled out his body stuttering due to the overwhelming sensation. He watched his cum spill out of you like a fountain and he couldn’t help but want to pump you full again. But as much as he wanted too..all good things must come to an end. The two of you’s sexy and intimate moment was cut short due to the sound of the back door next to the garage door opening. You forgot you gave the band members keys so they could practice anytime. Their came Ejiro and Sero walking through. Y’all quickly scrambled to get your clothes but y’all knew that they knew.

“HOLY SHIT” cursed Ejiro as sero just started cackling. Katsuki took one of the black drapes that was usually used to cover the drums to cover y’all’s..sticky situation. Bakugos face flushed red as he yelled at the two. “GET TF OUT!” He barked trying to cover the two of you. They stepped out for a bit while y’all got decent and when you did you yelled out “your good now..” you said trying to hide your tone of embarrassment. Katsuki was still sat on the stool as he zipped his pants and fixing his belt his shirt still on the floor though.

“Heh..sorry sero forgot his music here, seems like hall you too were making some of your own..” he snickered as sero tried to mask his laughter. You and katsuki couldn’t even defend yourselfs. Soon they left with their forgotten music before it was just the two of you again.

“Aside from their appearance..I had fun katsuki.” You said behind a soft smile. “Me too pretty..” he said kissing your lips softly before looking around the garage. “Jesus were messy..” he said behind a small chuckle.

[astray-anomaly]

The first Chapter of Sea Level!!

TW: Hurt, character injury, violence, mention of death and experimentation

Here is the Ao3 link, if you rather not read it on Ao3 the chapter is below the cut!

Chapter 1: A Promise

12-5-25

13:42

For two days the whole Hadel Blacksite was drowned in complete darkness ever since the crystal was taken and with that all power was gone from the site, even the backup power was now offline. Meaning that small computer couldn’t work anymore, the same computer Sebastian was now wrapping up in a waterproof crate he had found in one of the storage units. Putting all of the extra wires and pieces in place along with a few classified documents he had left. He then covered them up with extra layers so they wouldn’t shuffle around as much to avoid any damage. Afterwards he shut and sealed the crate.

He swapped out the Scrambler on his back in favor of the crate, it was a bit heavier with all the extra equipment inside but he could carry it relatively easily. He quickly checked the radio he had on him, still no signal. He groaned and shoved it back in his jacket. He needed to get it, he did make a promise to get them out of here, he didn’t want to break it. True he had no intention of keeping it in the first place but damn it, he just had to get attached to this stupid old computer in only the two months they’ve known each other. Even if he still had doubts this was possible, he had to try to complete his promise, this was the one good thing he could do now with nothing else left.

It was worth a shot to get out of this forsaken hellhole then wait to get gunned down or probably die of starvation. He knew Urbanshade would soon send down groups of their guards again to clear out the place and start to repair it despite the multiple devastating damages to the site. Urbanshade would never just abandon this place, they would eventually get this place fully functioning again so he didn’t want to be there when they arrived. It was between the chance of seeing the sun again or death. Even if he was gonna die, he wanted to do it looking at the sky one last time.

He was hoping they would be able to reach Innovation Inc. once at the surface. It was one of the rival companies of Urbanshade he had been able to contact before all the radios were cut off, none of the others responded. Maybe he could finally get them both the help they needed if he had found that company, but he has to get out of the Hadel Blacksite first.

The only guide they had now was the dimly lit esca on Sebastian’s head and his poor night vision as he started his journey through the twisted and broken hallways of the facility. More and more water had begun to leak in as the outer pile system started to implode on themselves from the outside pressure. Even though the pressure here was the same as it would be just at the surface, the facility could only take so much after the power was gone and the pipe system was the first to collapse. So the whole facility will be flooded with water, leaving everything left to rust. But he knew Urbanshade wouldn’t let that happen so he had to get out quickly.

At least now there were more places to swim than having to slither through the cold hallways decorated in broken furniture, shattered glass, and sharp scraps. Sebastian had already caught his tail on a few pieces, even though most of them didn’t cut through the hard scales a few small parts managed to catch themselves in his flesh, making him bite back a painful hiss. Still he kept going forward.

All of the docks were blocked off by now so the plan was to find Z-317’s old containment cell and follow the passageway out to the ocean. The one that Sebastian had originally opened before when releasing Z-317 during the lockdown.

If only he could get there faster but his injured tail had to drag him down, yet it was better to be slow to not alarm the other creatures still roaming the facility. Even after releasing them they were still animals, they had to hunt, no doubt they would attack him on sight if they ended up spotting him. Even if he could fend for himself, that computer on his back was not as strong as he was, one slip up and it could possibly be over. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He had already been roaming around the dark facility for what felt like hours, at this point he was convinced he was going in circles, right, left, right- crash

Sebastian froze at hearing a loud noise behind him, screaming starting to echo through the halls. He’d been here for just long enough to recognize which entity was which just by their screeching alone and out of every single creature it just had to be this one.

Sebastian darted his way to find a side room or some sort of tunnel as quickly as possible as Pandemonium’s screaming drew nearer and nearer. When he couldn’t he just punched in one of the broken doors and pulled his way through, at least the mantis shrimp DNA was useful for something. He quickly curled into one of the corners as the room started to shake.

He held his breath as the creature’s roaring passed, it was silent for moments afterwards and Sebastian started to uncurl his tail from around himself and pull himself out the corner only for the screeching to start up again. Sebastian panicked, moving down the hallway as fast as he could. There was so much rubble scattered everywhere that he had to slither around, no wonder this hall was blocked off.

Sebastian growled in pain again as something else dug into his tail, he kept his shrimp claw holding onto the crate on his back as Pandemonium got nearer. He eventually spotted what looked like a way out, at least he hoped but he couldn’t escape that easily. Pandemonium was just behind him.

“That's it you ugly bastard!” He snarled angrily, swinging his tail back to hit the creature and basically ripping his shotgun out of the hostler. Shooting repeatedly at the mutated beast's face, managing to get the two main eyes, making the creature shriek in pain. Sebastian then took his chance to run for it, even with the two main eyes gone there were still many more staring at him.

At least the shock and pain from the creature gave him enough time to make his escape into the underwater tunnels, he didn’t stop to look back, not for one second.

Eventually everything was quiet again and Sebastian could relax a bit. However when the adrenaline died down he was hit with the agonizing pain in his tail from a big metal scrap impaled in his side,painting the water red. He bit his tongue as he held back tears. The salt water just made everything sting more, still he continued his way down the tunnel, trying his best despite the excruciating pain.

He finally got to the exit, dragging himself out of the water and crawled up the ramp. He laid down on the cold concrete floor, catching his breath and coughing up some blood. He had to sit up, pulling the crate off his back and pushing it to the side as he examined his tail that was dripping in blood. He still had a medkit left even if it wouldn’t help much, it was something.

He quickly scavenged through the small kit and pulled out the antibiotic ointment and bandages. He then looked back at his tail and saw just how badly the metal had stabbed itself in there, still it had to be taken out.

He bit down more on his tongue to the point of making it bleed as he gripped onto the metal tightly. Closing his eyes as he pulled, wailing as it was removed but was able to cover most of the noise. He couldn’t alarm any more monsters down here.

He threw the piece of metal back into the water, leaning back and holding his tail while also holding back tears. He reached for the antibiotics and started to apply them to the gaping wound, not even reacting to the cold sting anymore. He took whatever was left in the bottle and applied it to the more minor injuries, he didn’t want to waste bandages trying to wrap them up since they weren’t as severe. Once the bandages were applied to the large wound he laid down on the ground, catching his breath and closing his eyes. “..Fucking hell..” He groaned, knowing he had to get back up, after a bit he strapped the crate onto his back again and continued on his way.

Unfortunately now he was even more lost, not exactly sure where they ended up after having to make a quick escape from Pandemonium in a panic. So they could have been farther or closer to their destination, Sebastian prayed they were closer as he navigated through the dark corridors.

After an hour of mindlessly dragging himself around he noticed a familiar pair of large heavy doors, this was where the controls to the containment cells were, they were closer now.

He used the keycard he still kept from killing that one elite guardsman to unlock the door again. The door didn’t seem to open much with the mechanism damaged so he was forced to squeeze through. The inside was a complete mess, even the control console was torn apart by one of the creatures.

Sebastian continued his way through the labs and containment rooms. Keeping his gaze down on the floor so he didn’t have to see anything that could possibly trigger his memories. The smell here already made him feel nauseous.

He counted the doors until he finally saw the one that read Z-317. The room was taken up mostly by a large aquarium where the Eyefestian would originally be kept in. Now the glass was cracked and the tank was mostly drained with water spilling on the lab floor.

He debated on what to do for a moment, instead of picking carefully at the glass he decided to punch it in. Wasn’t the best choice but it was the quickest. He shook his hand off, his ears perked up when he heard the wailing sounds of another creature nearby, Frogger.

Sebastian carefully pulled himself through the glass and dropped into the water. Swimming down before the creature could bounce back to see him. Once at the bottom he let himself relax as the cold water completely engulfed him, releasing the tension in his body. He was no longer being chased, he could finally relax for a second. They were so close to the end now. He found the doors which lead the way out of here, they would finally get out to the ocean.

He slithered through the door and continued into the dark tunnel. What felt like an endless void with only his own esca to guide him which was getting dimmer with each passing minute, showing just as much energy he had left in him.

He swam through the tunnel for minutes with barely any light. His injured tail trying to push him along as much as possible. Until he finally saw a glimpse of light up ahead followed by the sound of rumbling footsteps. He had forgotten that the Trench Bleeders were still mobile because their power was separate from that of the Hadel Blacksite, they were still being controlled from somewhere else.

Sebastian darted to the light, swimming with all his strength until he heard the wretched sound of metal bending. “Shit-“ He cursed, noticing that the tunnel was closing in on itself. He swam faster even if it hurt to push himself, the water still stung. Hearing the creaking of the metal getting louder until finally-

He shot his way up through the exit and soon fell back onto the ocean floor as the tunnel crushed in on itself. Yet he wasn’t out of his troubles yet, he had to move, he had to get up. The Trench Bleeder was right over him, the lights from underneath the giant mechanism's foot blinded his already poor seeing eyes, he was about to be crushed if he didn’t move now.

He forced himself to get up, pushing his way through the water as the Bleeder’s foot came crashing down, shaking the whole place and making Sebastian’s entire head ring. After that everything went pitch black.

12-6-25

4:18

Everything was aching when Sebastian had opened his eyes again, he suddenly became aware of every part of his body that hurt, he could barely move to lift his head. His esca flickered on as he looked around to figure out his surroundings, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He found himself in some small cave in the ground, he took a breather and rested his head back down on the smooth rock, he was still so, so tired.

He had to remember why he was here, he had to get out of here or both him and p.AI.nter would die, or worse, p.AI.nter would be forced back to roblux mining. He couldn’t let that happen, he had to make it to the surface, he had to make it to Innovation Inc. he couldn’t just give up now. There was no time to rest, no matter how tired he was, he already got the rest he needed. The hardest part of the journey was already over.

Sebastian forced his body to move, wincing at the pain in his tail and spine. The crate was weighing him down a bit from his body being weaker. He swam out of the cave into the open water, everything was dark, the Trench Bleeder looked to be long gone by now, how long had he been asleep?

He didn’t stop to think about it, starting to swim upwards.

“Where are you going?”

Sebastian suddenly paused at the familiar voice that echoed in his head. He turned around to be met with the bright green glow of multiple eyes staring right at him. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the shining light before slowly lowering it back down and looking back at the curious radioactive shark before him.

“Well?”

“I thought you had left a long time ago, there is no prey for you here, not anymore.” Sebastian replied, staring down the creature, meeting her gaze.

“Where else would there be for me to go?” The shark circled curiously around Sebastian, moving closer.

“The surface.” Sebastian answered. “That’s where we are going, to get help.” He paused. “To go back to my home.”

“The surface isn’t where I belong, that is where you come from. I have no home to return to.” The Eyefestian responded blankly.

“Do you not remember anything?” Sebastian looked curious.

“No. If there is a home for me I doubt it would be very welcoming now. These depths are now my home.”

“You know you could come with us, you don’t have to stay in this place, with all the bad memories.” Sebastian reached out his hand, offering.

“I know you want me to, but I know you’ll do just as fine without me. Plus I’ve made some good memories down here too.” Eyefestian gently pushed her snout into Sebastian’s hand. “Go see them again..”

Sebastian just nodded, gently petting Eyefestian. He had so much to thank her for, she was there ever since the start of his experiments. She was the only creature to know what he truly looked like before and he was the first one to be able to appreciate her beauty without dying.

No further words were exchanged before Sebastian watched Eyefestian disappear back down into the dark depths again.

He wiped his eyes before focusing back on his mission, firstly making sure the crate was still fully secured before continuing up. Swimming for minutes on end as his tail guided him through the water until he felt the sudden crushing feeling of the pressure shifting, feeling like his whole body just collapsed in on itself within a second. Trying to catch his breath as his throat was squeezing and his body froze.

He was no longer in the Let-Vand Zone, he was in the deep sea now.

It took him a moment to get used to the extreme pressure change until his body slowly began to relax and he could breathe at a stable pace again. He checked the crate on his back, nothing looked crushed. The crates were very reinforced but that didn’t mean they could last long, he had to get to a lesser pressure level quickly.

It was harder to tread through the dense water, but he forced his tail to push himself through with as much force and speed as possible. Even if he could breathe normally everything still felt suffocating, making him feel lightheaded. He wasn’t even sure how fast he was moving with the water crushing his whole body.

Everything was completely black, not even his vision helped, he wasn’t sure if he was even moving upwards anymore, he could have been moving in any direction and he wouldn’t know unless he ended up hitting something or managed to breach the surface. It made him paranoid of anything jumping out at him, it was too dark, anything could come from any direction.

All he could do was hope he would run into nothing, he had to keep pushing. He was determined to get to the surface, his determination being more powerful than his own exhaustion. The more he swam, the more the pressure seemed to lift off of his body and he could finally move faster. It felt so freeing to be able to stretch out and move around without having any more worries, he wasn’t entirely free yet but he was getting close.

He swam for another hour, his tail barely dragging him along, until finally he saw an actual light reflecting from off the ocean’s surface. Dashing up to it in his excitement and breaking through the water. The smell of fresh air filling his nose, the gentle wind blowing through his wet hair, sounds of seagulls flying overhead and the gentle waves moving. He made it, he actually did it.

Sebastian smiled happily as tears poured down his cheeks. He used his hand to shade his tired eyes as he looked in the distance at the rising sun that had come up to welcome him back to the surface.

[seafoamreadings]

week of september 1st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: this is not a week of small transits. while grounding is typically not the name of your personal game, you might want to give it a serious try this week just so you don't get too frazzled in the momentous shifts occurring.

taurus: the vibes are earthy and mostly quite solid although change is still auspicious. it is good to be strong and grounded without being brittle, inflexible, or completely immutable. your sign is well known for stubbornness but at this time, avoid it as well as you can.

gemini: if you need to move to a new home, shake things up in your current household, or unearth some old family secrets, this is the time to do it. conversations around home and hearth and ancestry are favored this week, thanks to the new moon in virgo. on the other hand such a new moon is always useful for just getting your life together if that's where you're at.

cancerians: this week has a new moon (in virgo) which is always a whole thing for you - clean slate, do whatever you need to do! writing is super auspicious too! and also mars moves into cancer. other things happen too of course, but these are the things that will reinvigorate you and get you going where you want to go.

leo: your priorities this week should focus around your subconscious and your resources - money, time, energy, whatever. in fact, consider all the ways in which your subconscious *is* a resource. if it doesn't feel like one, it needs some cleaning out, so do your shadow work while you spreadsheet your budget or whatever other resource maintenance you mean to do.

virgo: this tensely mutable energy features a prominent new moon in your sign. broadly this should be fairly comfortable for you, and yet you may feel an itching, urgent pressure to work for a development. it may be better to sit still, focus on your plans, backup plans, and flow charts and see what unfolds for now. leave room for flexibility and spontaneity in all that planning. don't set anything in stone.

libra: the new moon may hatch a new dream in your psyche, but it's likely so deeply ingrained you can't see it clearly yet. let it gestate. meanwhile you have some strong nodal activity occurring. fate lines are more visible than ever; you see where you come from and where you are going. embrace your destiny, whatever it is, and leave a little room to make your own choices about it.

scorpio: there is a certain social and friendly tone about the week and yet a lot of murky intensity along with it. this is a time to build trust, and yet not to exercise it naively or wildly. let it be earned.

sagittarius: probably this week proceeds relatively smoothly for you but there will later in the week be a sun-saturn opposition. this need not cause any serious turmoil but it could reflect some frustrations in your life where you feel stuck, or in a tug of war between one part of your life and another. meanwhile, all week, excessive spending is definitely not advised.

capricorn: the big highlight of the week is pluto back into your sign for the last time in a couple hundred years. the lord of the underworld hangs out in the farthest reaches of your sign for just a couple of months. use this period to clean up the vibes you want going into the pluto in aquarius era.

aquarius: sometimes, like probably right now, it feels like your hard work has paid off only it setbacks, or having to go back to fix things. the blast from the past taking place is not necessarily pleasant, but isn't it always good to have a second chance to make sure things in the future go just how you want them to?

pisces: tension you can practically touch permeates the air, or whatever subtle plane you are experiencing now. but this tension is highly productive, provided you don't shy away from it too much.

[mackjlee9]

Male reader who is Price's husband gets injured during a mission but doesn't tell anyone because he does not want to be a burden. So he fights through the mission with his injury. When the mission is over and the team is one their way to the heli, he collapses on top of Price and ends up needing life-saving surgery. 

I don't know what's up with me and making the reader collapse 🤣

This turned out better than I expected 😌

John Price x Male!Reader [Angst&Fluff]

Warning; typical cod violence, mentions of stab wound/blood, reader pushes himself through the mission like a badass and a dummy, night is reader's codename, near-death experience, mentions of surgery

Masterlist.

Everything was going according to plan, which was a little unusual and should've put (M/n)'s mind in a state of alert.

The 141 had been given this mission, arriving was kinda easy since it was pitch black outside, but they had to walk their way to the main building where the hostages were. This was a sort of high-level mission, they will all be by themselves once they enter the building, seeing as the civilians had been placed strategically around the whole structure.

They had to split up and be able to handle themselves for this one.

The information given was quite accurate, an anonymous person gave out the specific room where the civilians would be that night, seeing as they change rooms every day, and on some particular days, the enemy had more guards than others. The information was too good, but they had to go through this, saving the hostages was their number one priority.

And now, with thermal cameras, each of them headed to the rooms as quietly as they could, reaching their respective doors and using the camera to read through the concrete how many people were inside. The five of them checked their rooms and got ready to breach.

They had to perform this ambush at the same time to prevent the enemy soldier from calling in more troops as a backup.

"In position," one by one announced, keeping a stiff position while waiting to activate the breaching explosive. The last one in place was (M/n), he got the room further than the rest, pretty much on the top floor before the rooftop, he was more secluded and separated than the rest of the team, which had proved plenty of times to be dangerous.

Arriving at the door, (M/n) saw through the thermal cam that there were six people inside. Two armed guards and four civilians were tied up. Every room was similar that day, with low security as they spread the hostages in many groups of two to three civilians.

Such a small amount of guards was like nothing for the 141.

"Breaching in 3... 2... 1," the collective sound of unison explosions probably reached the four-kilometer mark, and now, they had to move quickly before backup arrives.

(M/n) took out the guards like nothing as they were caught off-guard, their ears probably ringing from the loud explosion.

"Four hostages secure," he announced to the team as he approached the tied-up civilians and leaned down to free them, "It's okay, you're safe now."

But something was wrong, the four of them started squirming in their places, releasing loud noises muffled by the gags in their mouths. They were clearly trying to tell him something, frantically looking over his shoulder.

"Shit-!" Before (M/n) had time to react, the sharp pain of a blade piercing his side made him stumble, holding his side for a second before he gripped his gun with both hands to block a second incoming attack from his aggressor. He didn't even look like a guard, he was just a kid, not older than twenty years, yet the look in his eyes was filled with hunger for blood.

(M/n) didn't want to kill him, but even after knocking him to the ground, the boy kept fighting under his weight, and if he wanted to cause the less amount of inconvenience to the team, he was gonna have to do it.

He glanced over his shoulder at the civilians who were half tied, half free, "Don't look-!" His yell got cut off when he felt a slash on his chest, just above his vest. The four people behind him did as told, closing their eyes and turning away.

Grunting, (M/n) kept his gun pressed on the boy's chest, dodging the aggressive and unpredictable movements of his hands to avoid being cut more, and reaching for his combat knife, taking it out of its holder, and with one swift arm motion had the boy under him choking on his blood, his body no longer putting up a fight, his knife buried deep in his throat.

Sighing, (M/n) stood up, placing his hand on the wall to hold himself up, feeling the whole world spinning, but he couldn't be weak right now, and even if he had a bleeding wound, he couldn't inconvenience the rest of the team, making them come up to him would only take more time than what they already have. And that could be fatal.

//////

After the breaching, they had a limited amount of time for the evacuation, and (M/n) has taken longer than he should've.

Taking the hostages out was proving to be harder than anything.

After hearing one of them shriek as a bullet hit the concrete wall, (M/n) gave them specific instructions to stay behind him or stay low and hide behind anything that could cover their body and block the bullets. They did as they were instructed, too scared about dying to even make their own decisions.

(M/n) struggled to take the civilians to the ground floor since most of the enemy troops were coming in from the rooftop, making him the one that was shooting most of them.

Thankfully, Ghost had been the first to have secured his group of civilians and had secured a safe spot for sniping to provide (M/n) some backup as he evacuated the building. (M/n) felt a little more relieved when he saw their bodies falling one after the other, taking the chance to guide the civilians down the stairs and out of the building.

He ran to the safe building while Price joined Ghost, now two snipers watching his back as he tried to regain enough energy to run the building where the team was.

The first evacuation helicopter took off with the civilians and they had to take the second one, patiently for (M/n) to arrive at the rooftop.

Even though his sight was blurry, (M/n) saw his husband walk up to him, and blinking a few times, he saw a small smile pull Price's lips up. He was happy that (M/n) was still alive and kicking ass as always. (M/n) show him a weak smile back, taking a wobbly step forward, before seeing black.

His body collapsed on Price, who held him internally freaking out.

"(M/n)! Honey, what hap-?!" His voice cut off when his hand came in contact with something warm and thick. Blood. "Bloody hell!"

The rest of the team rushed to their captain immediately, helping him carry (M/n)'s unconscious body as quickly as they could to the helicopter. Poor pilot, she got scared when she got yelled at, being told to fly to base as fast she could, because Lieutenant Night was in critical condition.

//////

Price was sitting outside the surgery room they had in the infirmary. He wasn't crying just yet, but his mind kept going over the doctor's words.

"He might not make it, Captain."

John has always been a man who sees in someone what others don't, and where other military personnel saw (M/n) as reckless and mindless, he saw him as someone who worried about his teammates over himself, someone who had courage as hard as a wall of tungsten metal. More than once he has risked his life to save others, and he felt proud of that, despite having been called a liability most of his life by his superiors.

So John knew, (M/n) had overcome stuff like this before, every time getting closer to never waking up again, but he would not give up that small spark of hope. His husband was gonna live, he was sure about.

For hours, Price sat on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, but at some point, he didn't care anymore, his mind far gone to every happy memory he made with (M/n). They met in SAS when John had just become Lieutenant and (M/n) was a kid who had lost everything, finding comfort in the military.

Working together brought them closer, falling in love in mere months. They dated secretly for years until (M/n) got kicked out of the SAS, the higher-ups covering it as a transfer, calling him a 'reckless man In need of discipline'. Well, it turns out Price had asked for his transfer to the first team he commanded as captain, and from then on, they had been together every step of the way.

They had been married for six years already, dating for ten years, but every time they looked at each other they felt that spark of the first time. None of them could ever forget that.

Those moments made them feel like they could do anything, overcome any obstacle if they were together, feeling like the world was a little more peaceful when in each other's presence.

Price didn't wanna think of a life where (M/n) wasn't part of it. And luckily, he didn't have to.

After hours, the surgeon came out of the room, taking off his gloves, face mask, and robe, a smile on his face was enough to make Price's eyes prick with tears.

"The surgery was a success, Captain, he should wake up in a couple of hours," Price let out a loud, long sigh, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, holding his head in his hand.

He stood up and extended his hand to the surgeon, "Thank you, sir, I owe you."

The man simply smiled and turned to head to the door.

"I'm just doing my job, Captain."

//////

By the time (M/n) opened his eyes it was almost midday, not that he knew anyway. His eyes squinted at the pain he felt all over his body, and he saw Price on the chair next to his bed, patiently waiting for him to gain full consciousness.

Well, here comes the scolding...

"Don't do that ever again, you hear me?" He said while standing up, leaning down to gently hug him, holding (M/n) close to him, and crying on his chest, "I was so afraid of losing you, honey."

He didn't have to ask (M/n) why hadn't said anything about being injured, he knew the way his husband thought about himself. 'I'll just be a burden to the team, John,' he would repeat every time something happened.

But this time was different. Price realized he could've lost (M/n) because of him not letting them know he was wounded, and tears were brought to (M/n)'s eyes when realized he almost left John all alone.

John looked up and held (M/n)'s left hand with his left hand, their marriage rings clicking together.

"In sickness and in health, remember?"

[whumpsday]

Ancient Evils

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: g/t whump, giant whumpee, demon whumpee, magical whump, isolation, claustrophobia, burns, forced to obey, rescue, hurt/comfort, caretaking

Whumpmas in July Day 21: Abandoned GT July Day 21: Coveted Hug a Giant Day

dammit i did that thing again where i write a oneshot and it turns into the setup for a miniseries. will write a followup to this eventually lol but it also works as a standalone <3 (edit: might just leave this as a standalone, who knows)

-

The tomb was covered in glowing runes Berian knew from his studies, but had never encountered in use until today. Symbols carved painstakingly into stone by ancients, covering every inch of the thirteen-foot stone box, all screaming a single purpose: keep whatever lies inside sealed within.

The magic used to activate them was powerful, powerful enough to seal the tomb for two thousand years, powerful enough that the caster had surely died, given what they had to work with back then. It was likely all they could think to do in their desperation, back then. Berian uttered a quick prayer for the caster who came before him, who had sacrificed themself to save countless: long-dead, but not forgotten.

At least he wouldn’t have to follow in their footsteps. Two thousand years was, thankfully, enough time to develop a better solution. A way of utilizing the demon’s own magic against itself.

Though it was always in the back of his mind as a backup, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the knot of anxiety in his stomach would dissipate after it was done.

Berian looked to his watches, lined up one after the other on his wrist, all still in sync, and waited.

As soon as it hit twenty seconds until release, he began chanting as practiced, his staff pointed directly at the tomb. He had to time it just right, or his colleagues out at the entrance probably wouldn’t even be able to come retrieve his corpse.

“Finis.”

Precisely at the same moment Berian bound the spell, the runes ceased to glow, a forceful BANG sounding from within the tomb.

He exhaled slow. The lid stayed shut. After only a few seconds, the runes resumed glowing once more. He’d done it.

The entity inside screamed.

Berian jumped back. The screaming did not stop, a wail of agony and despair. Barely audible under it all, his phone beeped, the least of his worries.

“Hello?” he called out, hesitant.

A voice roared from inside. “LET ME OUT.”

In all his wildest imaginings, Berian had never imagined the demon would speak to him.

He could, he realized. The spell had bound the demon to his will: it would have to obey him even outside the tomb.

And it was the only chance he would ever get. And they had backup plan after backup plan in place in case things went horribly wrong.

“...Okay. Don’t move.”  This would at least be a good test of whether the spell would hold, he told himself. It was safer this way, really.

Berian tried to lift the lid, but it was simply too heavy, a gigantic slab of solid stone. He pointed his staff to it, muttering just the right words to let it slide off to the side.

The demon looked like a man. He hadn’t expected that. He was as tall as the tomb was long, easily more than twice Berian’s height, with large, curled horns protruding from his head, but other than that, he looked human.

True to Berian’s order, he did not move a single muscle. His body lay stock-still within, his arms raised and palms up–he’d been attempting to push the lid off himself. Overlapping scars streaked down his skin wherever it touched the stone in the pattern of the runes, burned in as though with a branding iron. Massive shackles cinched tight around his wrists, ankles, and neck, chains binding him to the inside of the tomb.

The demon did not speak again, his eyes wide with overwhelming alarm.

It was only after a moment of taking him all in with awe that Berian realized it was him preventing the demon from doing so.

“You can move,” he amended. In addition to forcing the demon to use his own magic to re-activate the runes, the initial spell had contained a command preventing him from leaving the tomb. This would just be going overkill.

The demon gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “OUT. OUT. YOU WILL RELEASE ME.”

Berian winced. “I can’t do that. You’ll hurt people, like last time, right?”

To Berian’s continued amazement, the demon began to cry.

“ONLY YOUR ENEMIES. OR NO ONE AT ALL. WHATEVER ARE THE TERMS. WHAT MUST I DO TO BE RELEASED?”

Berian could have sworn he heard that powerful voice break, just a little.

“NAME YOUR TERMS,” the demon insisted. Berian was sure now, the desperation palpable.

The demon shifted slightly, and everywhere the stone touched new skin, it burned.

“You–you will harm no one,” Berian started, before he’d even thought how this was going to work. “You will stay in this section of the cave. You will not touch my staff or any other conduit of magic. You may exit the tomb.”

Berian had never seen something so huge move so quick. The demon burst from the stone box like a firework, chains snapping like rubber bands under his freed might, the ends hanging limply from his shackles. The cave ceiling was not tall enough for him to stand and he did not try, scrambling as far away as he could get and huddling against the wall there.

His phone beeped again.

The demon glared at him, his chin tucked into the metal wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t right. This was a demon that had wrought terror across lands, responsible for thousands of deaths, a giant among men. He wasn’t supposed to be… pitiful.

“Hey–”

“I WILL NOT GO BACK IN.” Now that he was out of the tomb, Berian could see the true extent of the damage, the burns even more intense on skin that had been pressed against the bottom. As huge as the box was, it had been built scarcely larger than the man before him, big enough to fit him and no more. Skin that had been pressed against the bottom was particularly scarred, so much so that it was essentially a giant burn, the symbols impossible to make out.

“I’m not going to make you go back in there,” Berian promised. Maybe a stupid promise. What the fuck was he going to do? “So just… it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. The demon’s glare gave way to surprise. “GOOD.”

Berian took an experimental step forward, like he was coaxing out a feral cat. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Berian. I’m–” Don’t say caster. “...A researcher.” It wasn’t a lie, after all.

The demon picked his head up. “THEY CALLED ME ALARIC. ALL-POWERFUL.” The words rang bitter.

“Were you… awake in there, all this time?” Berian asked, dreading the answer.

The glare returned. “I DO NOT SLEEP.”

“We didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be awake.” Berian took a couple more steps forward.

Alaric put his hand up, huge, sharp claws protruding from every finger. Berian flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a small yelp, but there was no attack: his commands prevented it. When he opened his eyes, he found Alaric merely motioning for him to stop.

“DO NOT BRING THAT NEAR ME.” He pointed to Berian’s staff.

“Okay! Okay.” He set the staff down on the ground, bringing his hands up in a placating motion. “See? You follow my commands, I follow yours, it goes both ways. I don’t have it.”

Alaric lowered his hand. “YOU MAY PROCEED, MAGE.”

Heart fluttering and permission granted, Berian did. He walked right up to him: even huddled on the floor, Alaric was taller than Berian was standing.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE HERE.”

“Right! I, ah, I was sent to… re-seal you. But I won’t!” Berian clarified hurriedly. “Really, I was just sent to make sure nobody gets hurt. Like–like the last time you were out. That’s fine, right?”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “IT IS DONE.”

“Good! Good.” Berian hovered a hand inches from his skin. “You’re hurt.”

“YES. THAT.” Alaric nodded toward the tomb and shuddered.

In order to create something that could contain a demon, they’d had to make something so totally opposed that it had harmed him. Berian didn’t blame the ancients: they had to stop the massacres one way or another, and they worked with what they had. They were desperate.

But there was no massacre now.

Without his staff, the kinds of spells he could perform were limited, but not nothing. While he couldn’t cast outright healing spells–would they even work on a demon?--he could at least cast something soothing. “I could… help. If you want.”

Alaric eyed him silently for a few moments before responding. “DO AS YOU WISH.”

“I can touch you?” Berian asked.

The demon nodded. Berian laid his hand lightly against Alaric’s back, red with harsh welts. He could feel Alaric’s muscle underneath, tensed, twitching slightly at his touch.

His whispered incantation didn’t do much. It was the magical equivalent of putting aloe on third-degree burns. But it was something, and Berian felt Alaric relax just slightly under his hand.

Berian performed the spell again and again, touching wherever it looked the worst. Between this and the earlier binding, he quickly exhausted himself, but that was fine.

“Better?” he asked.

“...YES.” Alaric looked down at him with a little less apprehension now. “YOU WILL BE SPARED, MAGE.”

“Haha, great!” Berian squeaked. “Just–just like everyone, right?”

“THOSE WERE THE TERMS,” Alaric agreed.

Berian wanted to get those shackles off. He wanted to take Alaric out of here, bring him to the lab. No, the lab wouldn’t be big enough to house him comfortably. Nowhere would. They’d have to build a custom facility, and there was no way he’d get permission for that, much less the funding. He couldn’t so much as let anyone know the state in which he’d left Alaric, or they’d find another caster and find a way to finish the job.

His phone beeped twice.

“I have to go, okay? You just… stay down here for now. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring you things.”

“BRING ME A SHEEP,” Alaric demanded.

“I’ll bring you a sheep! Sure! And–I’m sorry about this, but if someone finds you, it’s going to be really bad, especially for you. So… be quiet,” Berian ordered.

Alaric did not respond. He couldn’t. His features set back into a glare, but he nodded: he was the one who stood to lose, after all. At least he understood.

Before Berian could think better of it, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the demon as much as he could manage to. Alaric did not push him away, even though he could have. If anything. Alaric leaned into it slightly.

He stayed like that for a good minute before stepping away. “I’ll protect you. That’s my job.”

Berian raced out toward the entrance, already planning his next visit.

Oneshots taglist

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

-

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps​

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@sowhumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

-

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@alextries

-

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

G/t taglist

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

@reborrowing

Events

@whumpmasinjuly

@gianttol

@friendlyfoxpal

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER ONE | nothing good starts in a getaway car.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

SUMMARY: after attending the last richmond match of the season and being stranded in nelson road, reader has to hitch a ride with an old friend, jamie tartt.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: welcome to chapter one! the title of this makes it seem a little more dramatic than it actually is, but i just thought the lyric fit haha. hope you all enjoy!

“Oh my God, I really can’t believe it. AFC Richmond might actually make it back into the fucking Premier League!” Liv exclaimed, and you playfully rolled your eyes while putting on your shoes. “And I can’t believe my awesome boyfriend got us tickets to the finals!”

“What better way to spend the eve of our anniversary, yeah?” Freddie pulled his girlfriend into a side hug before helping her put on her jacket.

You hold back from smirking at the couple. If only your best friend knew what was about to go down, you'd probably go deaf from all the additional squealing. Even now, she was way too excited about the game to even notice how shaky her boyfriend was acting and the small bump on the left side of his jacket.

You never really liked watching football anymore, let alone going to games, but after Freddie told you a month ago about his plan, you just had to be there for his proposal. Well, possible proposal. The whole thing hinged on Richmond being promoted, so he needed at least a draw to get down on one knee. Of course, if the team lost, the two of you had already planned a backup proposal for their dinner tomorrow — which was the whole reason Freddie asked for your help in the first place.

You were so excited for the two of them, but it wasn’t enough to stop the pit in your stomach from forming. While you hadn’t been following football as much as you used to, you knew at least that Jamie was back at Richmond. You’d sometimes see your co-workers watching their games and praising the guy for being such a great player. They never asked you about your own thoughts cause they just assumed you didn’t know anything about the game, given you never talked about it. And that was good enough for you. But this was for Liv, and you’d do anything for that girl.

As you exit onto the sidewalk, Liv leans in to whisper, “Sorry about the shirt, by the way. It was the only one available at the stand. Apparently, there’s a surplus of Tartt shirts in stock.”

You had been friends with Liv since university when you became dormmates, so she knew about your former friendship with the player. Who else would know better than the girl who comforted you as you wept that night in your second year? But that was years ago, and you’ve been doing your best to put that in the past.

“It’s fine,” you laugh it off as you interlock your arm with hers. “It’s just a shirt, anyway. And not to mention, pretty low likelihood of him seeing me specifically in the crowd.” At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You weren’t exactly sure where in the stands your seats were, but even if you were right near the dugout, wearing this shirt meant you’d just blend in with the sea of red and blue. Plus, it was sunny out, so it was socially acceptable for you to wear shades to the game, too.

The three of you load into Frankie's car, with you in the back seat. During the ride, you started to tune out whatever the couple was talking about and mainly focused on trying to stop your legs from bouncing. You try and admire the surroundings, but you've lived in London for so long that the touristy effect has worn off. If anything, looking around Manchester would excite you more.

It was a short ride to Nelson Road, but there was still a hefty amount of walking given that cars weren't allowed past a certain point. You'd tried your best to get there as early as possible, but there was already a swarm of fans heading to the stadium.

You'd already claimed your tickets a few days ago, so you only had to push your way through the crowd once to get to your seats. Frankie managed to get tickets for the ones right behind the net, so you had a pretty good view of the game. If only that was all you were worrying about.

As you settle down in your seats, you try and shake it off. This isn't about Jamie; it hasn't been for years. You're here for Liv and Frankie, and that's all it was.

Though, after that terrible first half, you were wondering if the results would be too disappointing for the couple to even enjoy.

"What the actual fuck is going on with them?" You question as the teams return to their locker rooms.

Neither Liv nor Frankie gives you an answer, but the latter leans into you and whispers, "You double-checked the reservation for tomorrow, right?"

You sigh and nod your head. No matter the outcome, Liv was going to have a great proposal story, but wouldn't it be nice to tell everyone you got engaged at the same place and time as Richmond's promotion?

When the game starts again, you join the rest of the fans at the edge of their seat. Despite your efforts to distance yourself from the sport, — and in turn, Jamie — you couldn't deny the rush you got from watching it, especially in the stands. So when Sam Obisanya manages to score a goal, you're up with the rest of the crowd celebrating.

"Christ, I didn't realize you such were a big fan of Richmond," Frankie jokes, but you're quick to deny it.

"I'm not!" You cool down your tone when you see him widen his eyes and explain, "My formative years were spent in Manchester, so I know enough about football. Haven't been to a match in so long though," All of that was true, but you hold back from telling Frankie about your history with a certain player.

He seems satisfied with that answer and you go back to watching the match, your hands curling on the railing.

"Tartt is there. Is this the moment for Richmond?" You hear one of the sports commentators say and that gets all three of you out of the chair.

"Come on, Jamie." You whisper under your breath, and for a moment you forget everything that's happened between the two of you. He's just a football player and you're just a fan watching.

So when an opposing player tackles him, you're quick to shout, "Referee!" with the other people in your section.

"And it's a penalty!" You turn to Frankie and Liv as the crowd starts cheering, before turning your focus back to the teams getting ready. His cockiness wasn't always a good look, but it's kept him winning his entire career.

Jamie walks up to the net and you get the urge to keep your head low and avoid eye contact. But he hands the ball over to Dani Rojas, and so you look back up to watch the deciding goal, joining hands with Liv. You watch Dani mumble something under his breath before he kicks the ball right into the net.

"Richmond have done it!" You and Liv hug in celebration, but after a moment, you quickly separate. Your best friend keeps her eyes on you, but you watch as Frankie gets into position.

"You're gonna have another thing to celebrate." You say and before Liv can even give you a confused look, you turn her around to face her boyfriend, who is down on one knee.

Some of the other fans in your section started watching the proposal, with varying expressions. Some of your fellow hopeless romantics had a fond look on their faces, while the people who just wanted to watch a football game couldn't wait for it to be over so they could get back to celebrate in peace.

You knew Liv well, so it was no surprise when she started jumping up and down again, shouting "Yes!" repeatedly. You smile and let the couple have their moment before your best friend turns to you. "I can't believe you managed to hide this from me."

"I told you I was a good liar." You joke, then pull the two of them into a group hug. Now, today had two celebrations.

As the team headed back to their locker room and the crowd started to disperse, the three of you start heading back down Nelson Road to the car. You were lagging behind the couple and crowds of people around you made it harder and harder to keep up.

It's their special day anyway, you think, and once you manage to catch up to them, you say, "I'll find another way home! You guys enjoy yourselves,"

"You sure?" Frankie asks and you nod enthusiastically. The couple start walking to the car and you look around to find a shop to wait out the crowd in.

Luckily, there was a nice bakery on the other side of the road with a good number of people. You order a chocolate muffin and a caramel macchiato before settling down in one of the seats near the window. You decide to start booking a taxi now because judging by the crowd, it was going to take a few tries.

As expected, you managed to find a driver after twenty minutes. Most of the crowd had already left, so it would've been easy for you to find the car. Then, the driver canceled.

You went through that routine two more times till this point, where you were waiting outside for the fourth and final driver you booked. You were starting to regret letting Liv and Frankie go off on their own and promise that if they cancel again, you're walking.

When you hear someone call out your name, you sigh in relief till you realize that the map showed the taxi wasn't anywhere near Nelson Road yet. You turn to see Jamie Tartt peeking his head out of his car window. The look on his face is a mix of surprise and confusion.

Well, shit.

"Is that you?" His Mancunian accent catches you off guard after years of not visiting your childhood town.

"Hi, Jamie." Words you didn't expect to say ever again. You're not sure what else to say, especially since it's your first time seeing him since you were 19.

After a few more quiet moments, Jamie looks around the empty walkway before he asks, "You waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, I just," You glance back down at your phone to find the driver canceling on you once again. "Nope, the driver canceled for the fourth fucking time," you swear and instead of a sympathetic look from the footballer, he just laughs. 

Your expression morphs from disappointment to judgment, while Jamie remarks, "Christ, is your rating that bad?"

You roll your eyes. "Fuck off, will you?" You may have said it harsher than you intended. Well, that's on him for joking around like nothing ever happened. Not just that, but you were clearly not in the mood for it, especially from him.

You watch the footballer's expression falter but he quickly bounces back. "Deserved that." In more ways than one, you think to yourself. "But I didn't mean it like that. I probably have a shittier rating than you do after the times I've vomited in a taxi."

That makes you crack a smile, though you hide it from Jamie. He didn't need any more reason to think it was fine to joke around like you were seventeen again.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, Jamie." You move to turn around and start walking home when he calls out to you again.

"D'you wanna ride? You always hated exercise, even walking." Jamie offers.

"Bold of you to assume I haven't changed in half a decade." You try and keep a straight face when turning to him, but you think about it. You squint at the accuracy and sigh. "Even if you're right. Thanks,"

You head to the passenger side and get in the car, and when you do, you encode your address in the GPS. As you lean towards the console, you can't stop yourself from tensing up. This is the closest you've been to Jamie in years. After, you tuck your hands under your thighs — a nervous habit of yours since childhood — as the car starts heading off Nelson Road.

The footballer notices this action but decided not to say anything. The fact he was even able to get you to accept his offer was a miracle in and of itself. He didn't want to make you more uncomfortable than you already were. He was just glad to see you again, after everything. 

Maybe he did come off a little strong earlier, and your response to his joke was warranted, but seeing you in a Richmond jersey — specifically his — brought him back to his teenage years, filled with happy memories with you. He almost completely forgot about how things actually ended between the two of you.

And when a Taylor Swift song starts playing in the car, you start to feel Jamie's eyes on you.

Nervous about his reason for staring and possibly crashing, you decide to ask, "What? Is there something on my face?" Your tone wasn't playful, but it wasn't hostile either. An apathetic sweet spot, you might call it, even if it's far from what you're actually feeling.

"No," Jamie answers quickly. "It's just... Taylor Swift," he nods towards the console. "You used to love her back then. Wouldn't let me get near the controls when a song of hers was playing, so you could sing along."

"Yeah," You start getting flashes of fond memories involving driving around town when you were bored on weekends, specifically, the time when Jamie officially got his license.

"Are we breaking the law?" You ask hesitantly, as you buckle your seatbelt. "You sure we're not gonna crash?"

"Hey! You're acting as if this is the first time I'm driving you." He protests and you shake your head.

"You picked me up from a failed date. We just drove home and even then, you almost drove off the road, didn't you?" You recount the memory.

Jamie scoffs. "In my defense, you asked me if I thought you were hot. Any guy would've lost control too!"

"Excuse me, I was very vulnerable that time because of stupid Tim. And, all I asked was if you thought I was attractive." You're practically gripping the seatbelt with your left hand, your knuckles turning white.

"Same thing," Your best friend rolls his eyes, but seeing as your nerves haven't subsided, he raises his right hand and promises, "I solemnly swear that I will not crash the car. If I do, (Y/N) will be permitted a lifetime of 'I told you so's,’ so help me God."

You try and act annoyed but you soon let out a chuckle. "Just drive the car, Jamie." As he backs out of the driveway, you turn on the radio, and just your luck, it's Taylor Swift's newest song.

"Christ," you hear Jamie mutter under his breath. Despite how he reacted, Jamie loved listening to you sing. Even if you only ever did it in front of him and your respective families. It always gets you into a good mood, even if you said it made you look goofy. He was just happy to see you like that.

You laugh at Jamie's supposed annoyance. "If you want me to calm down, you have to let me do this." You say, before breaking into song, matching the lyrics word for word.

You stop yourself from smiling at the memory when your chest starts to ache at the reminder of how things used to be. You quickly change the topic, pushing that flashback to the back of your mind. "I forgot to say, congrats on the promotion. It was a really good game, especially as a spectator."

"Yeah, thanks. The team really stepped up today," Jamie says, sounding like he's answering one of those after-match interview questions. It wasn't like before, when after every game, he'd recount every feeling and thought he had to you, mentioning even the smallest details like how blades of grass managed to get into his sock and he had to power through the inconvenience for the second half of the match.

"Thought you'd still be off celebrating with them. I mean, don't football teams usually go out for drinks after wins, especially promotions?" You point out, before turning to face Jamie for the first time. You realize how much he'd grown up since the last time you'd seen him. 

He changed his hair, you note. Well, it was closer to what it was before he joined the league. You always cringed when you saw his spiked-up hair from last season and even more so when you would see pictures of his fully slicked-down hair when he went back to Manchester City. It was the same kind of hair he had when the two of you were eight because his mom was always too scared that the loose strands would get in his eyes and he'd get into an accident.

This suited him, but you think a middle part would be better. You get the urge to reach out and move his hair around just to see how it would look, but Jamie's response snaps you back to reality.

"Yeah, we do. We're meeting up at a pub later tonight, but everyone wanted to head home first." He explains, and you turn back to the road. Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie sees you nod at his answer. 

There are a few moments of quiet silence before he finally asks. "Did you come to the game," to see me play? he almost adds before backtracking. "alone?"

You're slightly taken aback by the question, but when you remember how Jamie found you, — alone in the walkway, staring at your phone, — then it doesn't seem like such an obnoxious assumption.

"No, I went with my best friend and her boyfriend." Ten year old you would be heartbroken to hear you refer to someone else as your best friend, but that was the reality now. You explain your presence at the game, "He was planning to propose to her after the match, as long as you guys got promoted. So thanks for that."

"Oh, that was them?" He turns to face you as he stops at a red light, before expounding. "Dani and Sam saw it happen and mentioned it on the way back to the locker room. They were 'aww'ing the whole time."

"It was pretty cute," you add, smiling and remembering the feeling of witnessing it. "But honestly, I didn't really think it through 'cause then I would've had to third wheel them for dinner. Which isn't the first time, but newly engaged people can be so fucking horny."

You're not sure why you added that, but it causes Jamie to chuckle. "Guess you dodged a bullet there, yeah?"

"Yeah," you laugh as well until you remember you're supposed to be mad at Jamie. Your smile disappears quickly and you swallow the feeling.

Jamie watches your expression change, but he continues to drive until he finally has enough of it. This might be the last time he gets the chance to do it and he has been on a self-improvement kick these past few months. Might as well try and fix one of his oldest relationships. And if not fixed, at least improve it enough to let yourself laugh around him.

The car arrives in front of your building, but before you can leave, Jamie says your name. Softly, softer than his voice has been this whole ride, and you already know what's going to follow this.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for," Jamie pauses and swallows the lump in his throat. "That night. It was a real prick move, especially after I gho—"

"Jamie, can we not?" You interrupt him before you even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth. Jamie backs up slightly, taken aback by your statement, but he shuts his mouth.

You sigh and close your eyes for a second. You didn't realize how much harder it would be to actually confront him about it, despite your harshness towards him earlier for acting so chummy with you. Maybe Jamie was on to something, pretending as if nothing had changed. That you guys were just old friends who were catching up after ending on good terms.

And you thought you were ready. You've spent multiple nights imagining how it would be to hear him apologize, to talk about what an arse he was back then, and how he never meant to hurt you. You imagined slamming the door in his face, shutting him out, and hurting him in every way that he hurt you. But as you’re faced with it at this exact moment, the thought of going through all of that makes your chest heavy. Almost heavier than it was that night in the pub.

"Look, I'm sorry if I'm been weird this whole time." You start, shaking your head. "But you don't have to explain anything. Honestly. These past few years, I've just been trying to forget that night." And you. "Because if I did, then it wouldn't ruin all the memories we made as kids. So, let's just not talk about it, yeah?"

Jamie still seems to be processing your words, but you continue on and propose, "We can pretend the last time we saw each other was when I left for uni."

Dr. Sharon told Jamie that avoiding conflict will never actually solve it and he's tried to internalize that. That's part of the reason why he wanted to apologize. But at this point, if you didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to make you.

"Sure," he finally says and you feel your muscles relax. "If that's what you want."

Was it what you wanted? It was the easy way out, but easy wasn't always the best way. Then again, Jamie always brought out your less logical side, even after all this time. Maybe knowing that he was sorry was enough. And after the whole drive, you were starting to believe those articles that said Jamie Tartt was no longer the prick he was before.

"Okay then," you say. "Thanks for the ride. And uh, good night, Jamie." You smile at the footballer, a genuine one to try and convince him — and yourself — that all was well in the world again.

And maybe it was. At least, for now.

"Wait," You sense Jamie reaching out to you, but you turn before he can actually grasp at your shirt. "Could I have your new number?"

You hadn't actually changed your number since you were 15, but things seemed to be going well, so you decide not to mention it and type it into his phone.

"Thanks," Jamie flashes you a smile and your heart swells, just like it did when you two were kids. Maybe it was going to be okay.

"I guess, call me when you're missing an old friend," are your parting words with the footballer. You miss his reaction when you slide out of the car and walk into the building resisting the urge to look back at him.

A/N: yay, first chapter! just a warning, things are definitely not going to be resolved this easily.  this denial thing is actually gonna make it so much worse later on but! right now, things are looking up for reader and jamie. also, you'll find out about that night in future chapters hehe. :) i hope you guys liked it and stay tuned for chapter two!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[searchforahero]

uh hi i was planning on posting a timjay fic for christmas but uh. that obviously didn't happen, and i have no idea if i'm ever going to finish it now, but it'd be a shame to let it rot in my notes, so. here is my partially finished timjay christmas fic :]

Christmas time always makes Jason astutely aware of just how alone he is. He’s seen the creepy spy camera footage of the Wayne holiday party. Not the one hosted by Brucie Wayne, but the real one, where Dick and Bruce try their damndest to make nice for Damian’s sake, and everyone pulls the Christmas crackers and gets overly excited for the shitty prizes contained within.

They’re always an intimate affair, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Damian, and sometimes Tim. Jason feels his own absence deeply when he sees them, but he doubts they do. He won’t ask Bruce if he gets an invite, and he won’t admit it’s because he’s scared to hear the answer. The entire point is moot anyways, considering that even after all of these years he’s been playing nice with the Bats, and he still refuses to set foot in the manor.

He’s sitting on a high rooftop at the edge of Burnley and Newtown on Christmas Eve, watching shoppers and retail employees stumble home while the night shift and partiers take up their place. The city is bustling at this time of night, with street lights flickering and car horns honking. He can almost pretend he’s part of something, even from all the way up above it all.

Just as he’s trying to gear up to start patrol in earnest, a shadow goes flying by two buildings across from him. He watches the figure with mild interest, until it comes into the light and he can make it out to be Red Robin.

Jason wonders what he’s doing out here, sure, crime doesn’t stop for anyone’s birthday, even if that birthday belongs to Jesus himself, but It’s usually on a lesser scale around this time. Typically they can get away with having Jason keep an eye on the city with the help of a police scanner and have everyone else available for backup.

Jason watches as Tim gets closer and closer on each swing, until he lands next to him with a flourish that is found in everyone who has ever held the Robin mantle. Jason shifts slightly so he’s angled towards Tim and asks “What are you doing here Birdy?”

Tim plops down next to him with a big huff, from here Jason can see Tim’s face better. The domino only covers his eyes, and with them hidden he looks younger than he is. It’d drive Tim crazy if he said something about it, if he pointed out how even after all these years protecting the streets, the people probably still think he’s a high schooler, but to do that he’d have to admit he was staring, so he keeps quiet.

“The party was too…” Tim makes a nonsensical gesture with his hand, waving it back and forth and twisting a bit at the wrist “y'know?”

“There are so many” Jason replicates Tim’s motion “that you could be talking about that I honestly have no clue man.” This elicits a chuckle from Tim and seeing him smile, even so minutely, makes Jason realize that he’s quite sure Tim hasn’t done so at all since he landed.

Soon TIm’s shoulders fall once more and he looks down at his boots, one is bouncing along with his knee. He opens his mouth without saying anything a couple of times, little starts and stops of a sentence, until he settles on a simple “It’s been five years since my dad died.” He pauses for a good little while again, fiddling with the seams on his gloves until they’re perfectly aligned. “Christmas and Bruce and just… All of it makes me think about him on a good day, it got to be too much and I… Left.”

Jason takes that in slowly, he can’t say he hasn’t been feeling the same. He knows that Tim holds guilt over his fathers death. Jason can’t quite understand how that feels, except for in the way that everyone who has ever been left alive feels guilty that someone they loved did not. Regardless, he knows it must weigh something horrible on the other man.

What a pair they make. Waiting for Christmas together and yet not. Both alone by a self imposed prison of grief, while the people they love sit happily in front of the glow of the fireplace.

At least the person Tim is mourning is actually dead.

Jason realizes he’s been sitting there a bit too long without saying something so he shuffles a little so he can knock shoulders with Tim.

“I miss my Mom, Catharine that is. Especially around Christmas time. She loved Christmas.”

Tim twists so he can look at him, and the expressive way his lenses widen to stare at him has to be a security risk. “My Dad loved Christmas too. At least in the last few years. He, and I, and Dana would drive out to see the lights every year. Dana hated turkey, said it was always dry and tasteless, but Dad was determined to get her to like it, so we’d all crowd into the kitchen and try to make an actually good turkey. I don’t think Dad liked turkey that much either to be honest.”

Jason’s pretty sure Tim hardly breathed for that whole story. Jason and Tim are friendly to be sure, but Tim rarely if ever speaks up for much more than witty one liners, challenges to air hockey, Mario Kart, or rooftop racing, and mission briefs when it’s him and Jason.

Jason knows Tim has it in him to be chatty. He’s seen him talk Superboy’s ear off about skateboarding and he’s crashed at Dick’s apartment enough times to be used to finding Tim sitting at the kitchen island prattling on about his Wizards & Warlocks games, but that doesn’t usually extend to him.

Even just that short little story, especially about something so personal, feels foreign to Jason. He’d long since given up on anything more than a working friendship with Tim, especially after the less than warm reception Tim gave him when Bruce took him on as Wingman. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, Tim is clearly lonely and hurting, but he can’t help it.

“Mom and I would rent skates for the evening for the frozen trails in Robinson Park. Have you ever been? They’re so pretty at night.”

When Jason chances a glance over at Tim he finds him smiling at him. He can’t see his eyes but his lips are quirked up minutely at the corners. Jason’s glad he made the right choice there, he didn’t know Tim well enough to say if ‘bond over dead parents’ was an acceptable conversation direction.

“I’ve never been no. I hardly knew how to skate until Bruce taught me.” Tim drums his fingers on the ledge before he adds “Do you want to go? It probably won’t be too busy with how cold it is tonight. You do have skates in your uniform don’t you?”

Jason startles a little, he kind of figured Tim would be on his way soon. He’d either work through his Bruce issues and head back to the manor, or he’d call Superboy and hang out with Young Justice. But he seems pretty settled on hanging with Jason for some reason.

“Uh, sure yeah. I do. We can do that.” Jason’s always thought it would be more practical to have high tech no-slip boot soles instead of extendable skates in their uniforms. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to axe the design after years of twirling around Mr. Freeze on skates as a child. Stupid Bruce.

the plan from here was that they were going to go skating and then tim would invite jason to spend christmas with him and dana and they'd cook a turkey together <3 but. alas.

[thekingofwinterblog]

So one part about the terrible direction Veilguard went, made me realize that there was one more prophecy/foreshadowing from across the Dragon Age franchise that was thrown into the garbage.

So in the endings, we learn that Dorian becomes Archon and the Tevinter Imperium lives to fight another day... And that really bothers me.

Not that he makes the attempt, but rather thar the empire survives at all, because the games had been setting up the idea that Tevinter's time was finally up and heading to a close.

The idea is first brought up when the Guardian of the urn of Sacred ashes tells of his duty of protecting the ashes for pilgrims... Until the Imperium has "Crumbled into the sea", and when the Warden tells him that the Imperium is no longer as strong as it used to be, he ominously says that perhaps this is the beginning of the end then.

In hindsight, what seems to be said here is that he is referring to the "Beginning of the end' as the first step to leading to the climax of the series as it was planned and already being set up this early.

The concept that eventually became Veilguard, when the Elvhen gods would finally break free and it would all end in a cataclysmic battle that would end the Tevinter imperium as the Guardian(By far the living person who is the strongest argument that the Maker was real after all) has forseen.

Obviously we didn't get that, but this isnt the only place where this idea is floated around.

We get talks here and there of there being a time for something new, a "next great empire" as one of the Inquisition soldiers calls it.

And time and again we are hit by the reminder that the Imperium has seen much, much better days... And that the Qun WILL invade again in the near future, and when it does, it will probably level it.

There is the mention of the elvhen revolts starting up, the culmination of thousands of years of abuse and slavery, and just the nastiness of tevinter in general having completely degrading their society and its hopes for the future.

Vivienne actually talks about this with Dorian, as she pretty much tells him that Tevinter WILL fall, and she would prefer he had a backup plan to survive and thrive when it does.

And most of this does happen... But in ludicrously cartoonish ways.

The Qunari Antaam does invade... But not for the Qun, but instead because they serve the Elvhen gods.

As does the Venatori, because... Why? Why does the Tevinter supremacist follow false gods none of them have worshipped for near a hundred years? That they now know are elves?

The elvhen revolt never really happens.

The Evanuris does break free and begin destroying shit... but rather than elvhen followers as all logic dictates, are instead backed up by humans and Qunari... Because.

Also, rather than turning all their wrath loose upon the Tevinter imperium, the logical target that should either be conquered or exterminated to begin the rebuilding of their ancienct empire, they isntead focus the wast majority of their attention on the south... Because.

Im just gonna come flat out and say it.

I 100% believe that when Bioware was originally laying the foundations for This story, the planned climax was going to LEVEL Tevinter and make it "Crumble into the sea".

THAT was the direction as originally planned, and was the logical endpoint that everything was hinting at, and building towards and frankly would have served as a great climax and ending to this evil, decadent empire.

Unfortunately, Veilguard had no interest in a climax where the parts of the world YOU the player fought to save would be utterly decimated no matter what you did, so instead the empire survived, while the south of Thedas was obliterated.

So hey, the evil, slaving empire that is the source of so much of the world's evil, and will innevitably fall back into utter decadence and never change it's ways got to live on...

While Ferelden, the true heart and soul of this entire setting, burned to cinders and it's was people exterminated offscreen because Bioware wanted to get ridd of all player choices.

What a climax.

[sugar-omi]

Imagine mc giving birth to their baby. You know, Cove is probably panicking, Baxter pretending he's okay but at some point faints and our brave Derek letting mc crush his hand with theirs lol

And also I've seen a clip of a dude who just witnessed his wife deliver their baby and, with a face full of horror, he told her, "I am SO sorry, I won't do that again. " 🤣😭

I'm just imagining one of the boys saying something like that, in my head it's so funny

omg i almost missed this!!! im so glad you brought this up bc i love thinking abt how the boys are during delivery, especially cove omg (im sorry this is such a ramble... but also not sorry bc my brain worms are dancing in happiness at these thoughts)

cove:

even though you've had months to prepare for this and cliff n kyra has given cove lots of advice, paired with a lot of "don't freak out!" (sometimes followed by something freaky that happens during pregnancy or labor...)

he's prepared for this though. as prepared as an anxious first time dad can be. i mightta said this before, but whether you have him in the room the whole time or just to come cut the cord and hold the baby, is up to you.

if you have him in the room he'll let you hold his hand and he'll be holding yours back (he doesn't notice the pain of your grip for the longest...)

he definitely does what you mentioned and apologizes for putting you thru this LOL

after you give birth, he will do everything... he'll change diapers, put them down for naps, burp, wash, everything... because after that he needs to even the balance (if it was up to him, you'd never lift a finger after that, especially if you have multiple kids via birth)

HE'S ALSO OVERLY PREPARED

delivery bag? more like BAGS. mans has double of everything, he's PETRIFIED

also he runs to any place you want and buys you food while you're in labor if it's really long

and he stays with you up until its go time, then if you want him to wait outside he will

also he faints... or at least gets weak

if you have a c-section he's alrdy freaked out bc... omg they're taking a knife to you thats scary shit

but just natural birth? he's doubly freaked out because your body can do THAT??? you're literally pushing out a whole baby and he is awed but losing his shit honestly

would be babbling praises and encouragements (both for you and himself) n you can tell him to shut up its okay bc he's gonna laugh in the end anyway, but he'll probably end up going quiet bc he's trying not to be distracting and he probably saw something he wasn't prepared for 😬

probably starts crying the closer your baby gets to being out the womb, n after they're fully out and here he's bawling and just realized it but also he's trying to comfort n check on you first so you end up laughing bc he's fretting over you as if he isnt flooding the room

baxter:

mans is NOT CALM

tries to look calm, but he just looks constipated and he looks tired honestly

he's been losing sleep this whole pregnancy bc he's afraid of being a bad father, but he's so excited and ends up staying up at night talking to your belly so he just can't win

surprisingly dropped the collared shirts and slacks

mans is stuck in t-shirts and sweatpants or jeans

his hair is a mess too

omg he's napping when you go into labor

he jumps up, mismatched socks (either he's wearing an ankle cat print sock and a knee high sock, or he's wearing one sock. its bad n i think him wearing one sock is better (worse for him but hes fineeee))

the nurses love him bc he's running in and out bringing you food and runs back to get anything he or you forgot or might need

another over packer

honestly they're all over packers who are we kidding

this is where is wedding planner job comes in handy

has backups and plan b's for everything

and even though everything is right he brings extra just to feel better

won't be in the room if you want that ofc, but he psychs himself up to be in there

he's really scared n nervous, more-so than cove actually. but he wants to support you and if you want him in there, he's there. even if you reassure him he doesn't have to be there, he wants to be

he has to sit down while he's there, his leg is shaking and he's torn between watching whatevers going on over there and watching your face for any signs which.. doesnt really make sense since labor isnt like going to the waterpark but he has a kind heart <33

spends so much time looking at the baby... cove does too but baxter spends double that time

watches the nurses and doctors like a hawk whenever they mess w the baby

will curl up next to your bed and thanks you so much for giving him such a beautiful life, this is all stuff he never thought he'd have and he's so happy

derek:

he's actually the calmest one

he has 2 siblings and even though he was young when they were born, he has lots of experience with babies and he prepared

isn't that bad of an over packer actually, just extra baby stuff and some of the best snacks

but he'll still surprise you with your favorite food or takeout

he will do anything for you during labor, remind him to just sit down and hold your hand n stfu, thats what nurses n doctors are for n he really can't help much atp, its all up to you and the nurses+doc

holds your hand even though you might be hurting him. will just wince thru it or convince you to switch hands

will keep giving encouragement and either times it perfectly so he doesn't get on your nerves or you have to kindly ask him to shut up bc you're not playing ball, it isnt helping!!!!

also pulls a cove and does a lot of the work around the house and with the baby bc that was tough work, labor and carrying the baby? you deserve it!!!

ends up talking n holding the baby a lot, is probably a little scared since theyre so little and just holds their hand or looks at them

you sometimes wake up to him mumbling stuff to the baby, abt how happy he is, how he's going to take care of you both, how much he loves them...

carries everything outta the hospital by himself (by everything he means your hand and the baby, his family is probably dragging your stuff to the car bc they're here to help n make your life a million times easier and its literally a sleepover with nico around)

anyway. i need more dad!derek hc's now, specifically uncle nico and jorge, bc that is such a big brain thought

now this applies to all the boys honestly, i didnt even think abt it until now

but he helps you walk to the bathroom and put on all the pads n underwear n stuff if you need it

i remember seeing a youtube short where the woman said her fiance or husband helped her walk to the bathroom, spray her coochie w the water spray bottle, and with the underwear stuff

so don't worry about how you look or if it's icky because you're all sore and/or stitched up or anything like that because he's not paying attention, he just wants to help you in any way possible

[crash-and-cure]

Burnin’ a Hole Where I Lay (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader) (Omegaverse)

Gif by @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: In which you long ago decided that the standard Alpha and Omega Relationship wasn’t for you, but your best friend Elvis had other plans.

A/N: This is a backup post I made because I absolutely refuse to let this be a case of this one not ending up in the tags again. Based on this request. Semi-Relevant, as i’ve been writing, in my head I’ve been ranking each reader as to how likely they are to bite, and undoubtedly this is my most feral creation, too bad she exists in a world where it may as well be a whole ass love language. So as a quick note as to the dynamics of this Omegaverse, relationshipss are primarily judged on their ability to Breed so A/O are the preferred/seen as the standard, wtih B/O and B/B being seen as acceptable, as a result an A/B relationship is seen as unacceptable. Also Alpha Presentation is marked when they gain their unusually elongated canines, and later go into a rut, Omegas go into their first heat, and Betas essentially present by not presenting whatsoever. Knotting is a bit of a secret in this world, as it only occurs under pretty rare circumstances. Probably some other rules I’m spacing on right now, so feel free to ask if any questions arise. Also I fully acknowledge that there is no way they would be watching The Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this story let’s pretend.

Warnings: First and foremost this is a Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of delusional and manipulative behavior. VERY dubious consent, (in which reader is a slave to their own desires of consciously not wanting, but their body uncosciously does want it). Set in an Omegaverse so expect the usual. Implied birth control tampering. Bit of a breeding kink implied. Sexual harassment masked as being especially touchy. Smut depicted, that includes penetrative sex (m/f), knotting, cockwarming, cumplay, marking, and a bit of blood play. Also depictions of Parental abandonment and neglect towards reader. Reader is not in a good place y’all and as a result has humor as an unhealthy coping mechanisms and self-depreciative attitude. Instances of reader being yelled at both by Elvis and another character. Best friends to lovers (albeit reluctantly) Please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

Word Count: 21k (I need to be stopped)

My Masterlist

Denim jeans were a mistake, you think to yourself trying your best not to fan yourself in a very indecent place as you and your group walked back to the rest of the motorcade sitting idle on some backwoods route somewhere in the Florida panhandle. It was a nice cool 102 degrees this morning when the lot of you had taken off so by noon it was hotter than hades, which had been the perfect time for Hank Snow’s car to all but combust, forcing the entire convoy to a screeching halt. The Louisiana Hayride apparently operated the same as the Military: No man left behind.

You and your naturally-run-hot-thighs were having a wonderful time, walking down this stretch of road, along with the other non-talent people who were roped into making a snack and refreshments run at the nearest service station about a half-mile back. You dab yourself, praying you haven’t sweat the last of your face off, as that is the last thing you need right now. The last leg of the hayride tour was proving to be the most arduous as now home felt so close yet still so far off. And this hiccup further proved your theory that hell is to be found on tour.

Though upon seeing them not too far away from you now, your group does admittedly make this far more bearable. You’re not about to let them know that though. So before your thoughts get too chummy about them you set the brown bag from the service station down onto the grass and grab a hold of one of the bottles before you silently stalk forward. Some of them see you and are all too willing to comply when you hold a finger up to your lips in order to better sneak up on your mark. Your prey none the wiser to your dastardly scheme, gleefully tells the tale of seeing Big Boy Crudup as a boy, before it’s interrupted by a yelp and then a subsequent long string of curses as he’s taken by surprise by the cool kiss of the bottle to the back of his neck.

He whips around ready to unleash his fury on the poor soul who dared interrupt him, until you watch in real time as the fire in his eyes dissipate and turn softer upon seeing you giggling up a storm. “Goddamn Y/N, what was that for?” Elvis says exasperated, but doing a piss poor job of hiding his amusement as he wipes the now cool sweat off the back of his neck.

“Felt like it,” you shrug, handing him the bottle before you turn around to retrieve your bag where you had left it, and return bearing gifts.

“Say lil’ lady, you got anythin’ in that bag for some talented musicians?” Scotty asks.

Quick as a whip, you reply, “Sure do. Ya know any?” as you set the bag down on the hood of the car.

Elvis gives a full belly laugh at you, and a beat later, do the others follow suit.

“Did they only have orange soda?” Red remarks as he’s digging through the brown bag.

“No, but one of you mooks, and you know who you are,” you say, pointing to the lot of them. “Have not eaten a single goddamn fruit or vegetable since Texas, and this was the only way I figured I could get y’all to not die from scurvy.”

“Don’t be stupid Y/N,” Billy asserted, nervously trying to hide that he was the one you were talking about. “You only get that when you're out on the sea.”

“I thought you get it when you eat too much salt,” Scotty questions, unsure as to your words.

“No you get it from bad fish,” Red asserts, all the confidence of a man who has never been out to sea.

“You’re all wrong,” you say as you look through your bag trying to find a bottle opener. “You get it when you don’t listen to the Pharmacist’s daughter and eat a goddamn orange every once in a while. Now drink.”

You can see it clear as day as, simultaneously, all of their hackles raise at the thought of being ordered around by a Beta, so they do what they usually do when you do this: they look to Elvis.

Elvis, who has been able to open his own drink with his keys, stops drinking for a moment only to state, “You heard her.” And without a second thought they all sigh in defeat as they each grab a bottle for themselves.

“That’s what I thought,” you state, triumphantly, as you fail to locate anything close to a bottle opener. “You mind,” you say to Elvis, holding your bottle up to him. He gives a little smirk as he brings the still capped bottle up to his mouth.

As he uses his teeth as a makeshift bottle opener, you catch a glimpse at his pronounced canines, and you can’t help but absentmindedly swipe your tongue on that errant tooth in your own mouth. The one that tricked you into believing that you would present as an Alpha only to disappoint nearly everyone in your life.

You’d like to believe you’re past your admittedly childish envy of his status as an Alpha, still that does little to quell that funny feeling you get in the pit of your belly when you see him pop the cap off the bottle with ease.

“I meant use the keys dummy,” you say exasperatedly, swiping the orange drink out of his grasp. “You’re gonna crack a tooth like that one a these days.”

“Aww you do care,” he half-sings to you, and you can only roll your eyes and tell him to shush. He nonetheless listens and uses the keys for his second bottle.

While you languidly sip on the orange drink, that word circles your brain for a bit. Caring is not something you’re exactly used to being called. Years ago you were called protective or watchful, when the entire world was sure as to how you would present. Nowadays in spite of the fact that you doubt you’ve changed too much over the years, you’re called nurturing or motherly.

It’s actually part of the reason you even went on tour with them. You had initially refused Elvis’ invitation to join him on tour, figuring that now was as good as any to move out of the Lauderdale courts. He begged you to go with him and be his makeup assistant on tour as you had been for every show he’d performed up until then. You were reluctant to go due to not wanting to leave the good thing you had going with your job at the Cathouse salon but then Gladys had convinced you to go in order to prevent the boys from getting too buckwild on the road. After all her years of hospitality and refusing your rent payment, you figured this was the least you could do to compensate for your extended stay in her home.

The irony of which was not lost on you as there were many nights after the two of you had your nightly phone calls with her where you would have to kick Elvis out of your motel room to go “talk” to some little chicky that would be skulking around his room (More like you slapped him on the ass and told him ‘go get em tiger’... because you absolutely did do that a few times). You did this mostly to get him out of your hair for the night, but also because in those days you had no idea how long any of this would last and you wanted him to make the most of it. You knew better than most that all things are temporary, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.

Your musings are interrupted by The Colonel’s speaker car announcing the issue had been fixed and everybody better be ready to leave in less than a minute because “Time is money.” Your group quickly packs up, making a beeline back into your respective vehicles.

You quickly check your makeup in the mirror (wouldn’t do for THE Elvis Presley’s makeup girl to look anything less than immaculate, even in this abominable heat, though he’s not exactly a THE yet) as Elvis gets behind the wheel making sure Scotty and Billy got into their car, while Red scurries into the backseat (he lost all privileges to shotgun after a legendary loss to you at a bowling alley back in Baton Rouge). And just like that you’re off to hightail it to the next venue, though not before you catch a particularly nasty side-eye from Hank as he passes your car. With all his huffing and puffing every time Elvis performed, you figured it would only be inevitable the Alpha would eventually burst and blow the lot of you all the way back to Memphis. Especially as his Beta boy kept glancing your way.

So imagine your surprise when by the end of the night Hank ended up leaving and Elvis had news that that Colonel fellow wanted to go into a partnership with him. You’re gone for all of five minutes to get funnel cake and suddenly Elvis is officially on the up and up, with a new manager and everything.

Elvis trusted everybody and you trusted nobody: it made you two the perfect team. It was your natural suspicion of others that had you look over The Colonel’s initial contract and when some of the wording wasn’t sitting right with you, you called in a favor with your former boss, Kitty, who was in turn owed a favor by a Lawyer friend of hers. Even with the favor in place, he ended up taking a good chunk of your savings, which in your book was fine, as it was mostly made up of the rent that the Presley’s refused to accept from you for the past few years. Your intervention would actually prevent Elvis from going 50/50 with The Colonel, and unknowingly save him from so many headaches later down the line.

The Beta Man didn’t quite make your skin crawl, but just about, and he made it no secret how little he cared for you or how much Elvis valued your opinion. Were it not for Elvis’ insistence that you’re the only make-up artist in the world that could achieve the right look for him, you think The Colonel would have elbowed you out early into his career.  

And much to his chagrin you go everywhere with him; shows, movie sets, tv appearances, you name it. Those weeks when you had back to back shows with him and just as many public appearances to keep the momentum of his career going, those were the days where you found yourself longing for the far simpler days.

You honest to god miss 8th grade year. When the world made about as much sense as it could to a twelve year old. The days when you were called the Boldest Little Girl this side of Memphis you were called after you brazenly told your music teacher to shut up when she told the stuttering new kid that he had no future in music in front of the entire class.

After a long lecture on respect and Mrs. Whatsherface made sure your knuckles had a meeting with her ruler, you left her classroom only to be met with that same kid you defended turned around and talking to himself in an empty hallway. He still somehow managed to stutter even when no one was there.

"Th-th-thank y-you," he would say before taking a long steadying breath, before squaring his narrow shoulders and looking as though he were preparing for war.

"Who ya talkin' to?" you would say over his shoulder, and instead of words he would let out a very undignified shriek. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Y/N."

"El-Elvis," he would say, looking down at his shoes. He’s all sandy hair and knobby knees, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a boy with such long eyelashes before. He was just a bit shorter than you, and with the growth spurt you had recently your mama was hopeful that you would present soon.

"So Elvis… you new to Memphis?" you would say, after a painfully long pause, waiting for him to say something else.

"Ye-ye-yes," he said, still trying to find the secrets to the universe in his shoes. You can’t exactly pinpoint why but in that moment, he reminded you of a wet puppy. One that's just pathetic enough that you want to pick it up and take it home to dry it off and give it a snack.

So that's exactly what you do and you throw an arm around his shoulder, “C’mon, Elvis,” you say as the sandy-haired boy blushes up a storm. “I’m gonna show you around these parts.”

You end up taking him to some of your favorite places around your neck of the woods, and finish this little impromptu trip with a stop off at the neighborhood drugstore, where you ask him what his favorite soda is, and he nearly has a heart attack when you grab one from the cooler and walk out without even attempting to pay for it. Annoyed but willing to humor the boy, you walk up to the counter and tell your daddy you were taking them for you and your friend. You could see the bit of pride in his eyes as you took rather than asking for what you wanted. Elvis meanwhile seemed to be in awe of you. Though he quickly goes beet red when you show him how to open a bottle with your teeth and hand it to him.

“Y’know you don’t stutter when you sing,” you say as the two of you were making your way to his place in the lauderdale courts. “Why’s that?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” he said solemnly, sipping on the Pepsi you gave him. “I gu-guess, it’s cuz I-I-I’m good at it… or I th-thought I wa-was.” he says sadly.

“You do sound good,” you say matter-of-factly, and it makes you feel warm as he lights up at the compliment. “Not everyone’s gonna think so, but you do.”

“But some of ‘em are gonna hate it?” he blanches at the thought.

“Yeah, but that’s just  the way a things ain’t it?”

“I-I guess…”

“Elvis trust me on this,” you state, more sure of yourself than any twelve year old has a right to be. “If people don’t like how you sound, it’s on them to not listen, because there are plenty more people who will love it.” Simple piece of advice really, and not applicable to all situations you recognize now, but with the way you watched him hunching in on himself to look smaller only for him to walk straighter into his home, it looked like it’s what he needed to hear.

Elvis would return to music class the next day with his own guitar in hand and sing his little heart out in front of the entire class. Mrs. Whatsherface still didn’t approve, stating how she “didn’t like how he sounded.” But he in turn looked her right in the eye and told her what you had told him, and you had never been more proud of another person in your entire life.

“Well Mrs. Wilson, you don’t gotta listen.” he asserts, more confidence in him than you’ve seen in all the time you’ve known him.

Your friendship however was really solidified after that jerk that sat behind you in class, Leon, cut Elvis guitar strings as a “joke” he claimed. Seeing Elvis' heartbroken expression and knowing his family’s financial status, awoke some latent protective streak within you that had you dip into your meager savings for a record player to buy two things that night: guitar strings and gum.

The next day you would give Elvis the replacement strings before school would start as well as an ominous suggestion to watch you during study hall. And he would watch as you proceeded to stick a wad of gum in your own hair and proceed to flip over the table behind you and try to knock Leon’s lights out. Nobody ever really made that connection that it had anything to do with what he did to Elvis’ guitar. No, all anybody ever knew was just that Leon sat behind you and someone had put gum in your hair, and you swung first and asked questions later.

Elvis would watch in utter awe of you as the teacher escorted you and Leon out of the class by your ears, and you would wink at him as you passed by, but you think the sentiment of it was lost considering the eye you used was the one already swelling shut. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Elvis would return home that night and let his Mama know he found the girl he was gonna marry.

You saved Elvis the embarrassment of having to be defended by a girl, and the focus was solely on how Leon had gotten beaten up by one. You would even cleverly and cruelly dub him “The Cowardly Leon,” for the rest of the year, and only let it die out after you needed to start flying under the radar once you had presented.

You cared a lot about justice back then because that’s what your father instilled in you. In fact the first thing he said to you when he came to pick you up, was asking whether or not you won. God he was so proud of you for standing up for yourself, and he ended up taking you out for ice cream. In retrospect not the best thing to teach a kid, to handle conflict with physical violence. Back then it was seen as blooming Alpha behavior of play-acting at being territorial and rough-housing. But once you presented as a “Beta” that same behavior that was seen as charming, became deviant or atypical of how a proper beta should act.

That year was the last one of simplicity you would ever experience, as you were comfortable in what your future would look like. Your daddy's side of the family came from a long, unbroken line of Alphas, both male and female. And it only felt inevitable that you would present as one, and one day you would inherit your family drug store, you would settle down with a nice omega partner, have a couple kids, who would also be Alphas, pass it on to them, so on and so forth.  With his ever present, yet endearing stutter and his unabashed love for his mama, you had thought Elvis would be such a partner. And the way you sometimes caught him looking at you at times, you didn't think he would be entirely opposed to it either.

You were an only child and your daddy did his best to teach you long before you were even close to presenting how an Alpha acts. Lessons to always be bold and aggressive. To take what you want and how to fight for what is yours. The benefits of remaining stoic, and relying only on yourself. How to essentially be the perfect Alpha.

Lessons that would ultimately be wasted on you, you would learn that summer after 8th grade. It was just supposed to be a nice ordinary trip to visit Nana up in Nashville. First day, you would be slightly uncomfortable and very tired, nothing cool refreshments and a nap couldn’t help. Day two you felt a lot warmer that wasn’t the least bit helped by Nana’s brand new Air Conditioner. Day three you would spend covering the windows with blankets in order to better curl up into a corner on your bed with pieces of clothing you had taken from your parents. Day four there was no more denying what was happening as you cried into mama’s lap, feeling oddly betrayed by your own body as you waited for all of it to pass.

Your daddy put you on suppressants the second you were all finished and were back in Memphis. He was the only one whose disappointment in your presentation matched your own. Mama tried her best to convince you it wasn’t so bad to be an Omega, but the words feel hollow as you overhear her insistence to daddy that she wasn’t too old to try and get it “right” this time with another baby.

Nothing felt real those summer days, and by the time newly presented Alpha, Elvis Presley, strolled into the store, you officially accepted that you were in some sort of upside down world. You didn’t even really see him at first, you were so used to seeing him at less than eye-level to you, that it didn’t register to you to look up, and find the previously waifish Elvis Presely having been replaced by a taller, broader -and dare you say it, handsome- young man before you.

Of all the people you knew, you thought Elvis would be the one that you would be able to tell, but as the light softly glints off his newly descended canines you knew that could never be.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him. To admit to someone, who will undoubtedly accept you as you are, but you catch sight of your parents staying on opposite sides of the store. A painful reminder that nothing is ever a sure thing.  

“My what big teeth you have,” you instead remark as you lean against the counter.

“Heya sweetheart,” he says, propping an elbow on to the counter, though not without some awkwardness as he catches your magazine and slides forward a little before catching himself.

“Sweetheart? What is that about?” You ask, acting dumb and hoping you’re wrong.

He grins even wider at that

“Oh yeah,” you say, trying to be as non-chalant as you possibly could be. You hook your pinky into the corner of your mouth to show him the normal canine you have. He perks up ever so slightly as he sees it, only to deflate once he hears your muffled “Beta.”

“O-oh… oh, ummm…” he stutters, unsure of what to say to you.

“Disappointed? So’s my daddy,” you say flippantly.

“N-no it ain’t that,” he stutters. “It’s just I-I… well I…”

“Was expecting something else?” you finish for him. “You and me both buddy,”

“...Y-yeah umm….” he says glancing down between you and the floor as though waiting for the sike.

“C’mon, don’t be upset for my sake, you’re an Alpha now, cream of the crop and all that,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too jealous. You hand him a Pepsi on the house and call for the next customer knowing you’re gonna have to be on inventory later so you’re daddy won’t notice it missing.

In short order by the start of your freshman year you would learn three awful things. First, that while the state of Tennessee’s single bond and marriage laws were still in place, they do make an exception for Alpha business owners who wish to pass down their legacy to an Alpha Child. Secondly, that your daddy was aware of this exception because he had done it once before, as you and your mama were his second attempt at an alpha child, after his first born son presented as an omega. Third, the reason you had a babysitter until you were fourteen, was because your daddy apparently needed a backup for his backup.

That is how you found yourself moving all of your belongings into the Lauderdale Courts, where you would find a familiar face. He was surprised to see you there, especially with the load of boxes behind you, but he wasn’t about to let your surly demeanor get in the way of him rolling out the welcome wagon for you and your Mama.

Elvis is not one to be ignored, and you find it amusing that he was now the one that more or less bullied you into doing things. And as loath as you are to admit it he more or less did become somewhat of a protector to you when Leon tried to get his licks back. It is a strange reversal, but not a wholly unwelcome one. You do at least try to find the comedy that is the tragedy of your life now.

Your mama was with you, but you could hardly say she was present anymore. The days she wasn’t drinking herself into a stupor, were the days she was cursing your father’s name and long-winded rants about how he stole the best years of her life. For all the passion and fury in her words, they were hollow, as instead of getting on suppressants to combat her heats, she instead went back to him every single time to take care of her. There would be times you would come home from school only to find your place empty, cash in an envelope on the table, nary a note in sight, and you would spend the week with a neighbor.

You try to justify it in your head with the fact that Mated Omegas could die if they go into heat without their Alpha, but that was exactly what suppressants were made for. They weren’t true mates so there should be no problem for her alone to break the bond, and yet like clockwork every three months she would be gone for the entire week, and wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes for about the next two weeks following that.

You hated those days when you would come back to the apartment only to find her missing, that ominous pink dot on the calendar, and some money left in an envelope for you to take care of yourself for the week. Gladys Presley didn’t even hesitate in offering you a place to stay so you wouldn’t be alone, but as welcoming and kind as the Presley’s were to you during those weeks you felt humiliated not only for having to rely on their hospitality, but also the reason why.

You knew where exactly she went. Everyone in the Lauderdale Courts- hell, everyone in Memphis- knew where she went, as those were the same weeks that your father and his new wife would disappear off the face of the Earth. All those pitiful looks and derisive snorts when you walked by felt the same, they said “oh look, there’s the little unwanted girl.” Your mother went from wife to glorified mistress in a matter of months, and people shaped their own opinions on you solely around that.

You got by though, especially after you were able to get a part time job in Sophmore year. Kitty LeBlanc is perhaps the most feared Alphas this side of Memphis. She and her wife, Jeanie, have been running the Cathouse Beauty Salon, for the last twenty or so years, the place to go when you’re looking to get done up for a date night or a divorce. It’s well known in these parts that any Omegas having trouble with their Alphas need only come to Kitty to get them to start doing right by them. So suffice to say, she was furious at what your daddy did to you, and the only thing stopping her from launching a full scale whisper campaign against your daddy’s store, is that you and your mama were still financially dependent on him and so didn’t want to leave him completely destitute.

But you also had the underlying reason that you needed him to stay open so you could still get the suppressants you needed. They were created way back when during war times, to prevent mated omegas from dying due to their Alphas being gone so long, and nowadays they are only prescribed to mated Omegas under the most extreme of circumstances. Legally you’re not supposed to be on them whatsoever, but while normally your father being a pharmacist had few perks, this was absolutely one of them.

It’s bad enough he’s known for having more or less abandoned an Omega Partner, but it would have absolutely devastated him, socially and legally, if it had gotten out that he had abandoned not one but two Omega children of his. So rather than having that be his reputation he made everyone believe that you in fact were a Beta. And you’re fine with this, because you already push it by acting like an Alpha when you’re known as a Beta, you doubt you’ll be tolerated anymore if it comes out that you’re an Omega.

Kitty would respect your choice and instead offered you a job, mostly sweeping the floors and taking out the trash after school, for a little extra cash on the side. That’s where your interest in makeup first began, seeing how someone could be having the worst day of their lives, but their appearance exhibiting none of that.

“Think of it like a mask,” Kitty would explain to you as you attempted eyeliner for the first time. “You’re only showing the world what you want them to see.”

High school was a bit of a blur, and before you know it you’re in your Senior year. Prom was something you had been looking forward to. You had saved up all your money from the Cathouse to buy a beautiful red dress, had been asked out by a nice Beta boy from your art class, and Kitty promised you the full salon treatment for such a special occasion. Really everything was looking up with the only hitch being how weird Elvis had gotten when you told him about your plans for the evening.

After the talent show (where you almost resorted to pushing him onto the stage), Elvis certainly wasn’t without options, but he still insisted on going Stag with you and the rest of your friends for Prom. Those plans didn’t change with your news but he clearly seemed to have become grumpier as of late.

But you didn’t pay it any mind, as afterall the shit you’d been through up until that point, was one night really too much to ask for. Evidently it was, because as you were getting into David’s car, you realized you had forgotten the evening gloves your mama was letting you borrow, and you ran back into the building only to be met with your mother with a suitcase in hand as she set down an envelope on the small dining table.

You vividly remember how she would look up at you with only the slightest hint of guilt in her eyes, before her expression steels itself with a calm demeanor, as she gives you a cool smile, places the envelope in your hand with a friendly pat, and then she walked out the door without even a glance back.

You would never see her again.

To My Darling Daughter,

I’m sorry for what I have to do, but you must understand that while this is a choice, it’s not an easy one.

If you can take comfort in anything, know that it is your strength and resiliency and seeing you as bold as you are for what you are has inspired me to take control of my own life. I’ve met a Beta man who has promised me a better life away from this place. My only regret is that I can’t bring you with me.

But I know for a fact that you, unlike me, can and will survive on your own.

I Love You So Much,

Mama

You had to read her letter several times, not fully believing the words before you. You recognize that there was a part of you that had wanted this for years. For her to run far and fast from your father, but you had just always assumed she would’ve taken you as well.

You hardly have time to process that as you hear David’s horn honking out at the front. No, instead of sitting with your feelings about the matter, you fix your makeup, grab the gloves, and walk out to the powder blue chevy. After David offers whatever was in the flask he swiped from his daddy, the entire dance turns into a haze, with the only evidence that you were even there being the commemorative photo and the blisters you feel forming on your feet.

“Say Y/N, my folks are outta town this weekend.” David says idly as you’re walking out of the school gymnasium.

“That’s nice,” you slur, not really having heard a word he said, trying hard not to fall on your face as you stumble in your kitten heels.

“So why don’t we head back to my place?” He asks practically buzzing with anticipation.

“Sure fine,” you sigh apathetically, understanding what he’s implying, and going mostly because the prospect of going back to an empty apartment is far more terrifying to you.

You can see the excitement on the Beta boy's face grow until he looks past you and you watch as the blood-drains from his face. “There you are Y/N,” you hear from a strained yet distinct voice behind you. You turn around only to see Elvis’ icy blue eyes somehow burning holes into your date, as he says through gritted teeth. “Your mama made me promise to get you home early.”

You can hardly be faulted for your almost knee-jerk reaction at Elvis’ blatant- well to you-lie: you burst into a near hysterical fit of laughter, to the point tears are streaming down your face. You laugh a little too hard and a little too long at a joke neither boy seems to understand, that David, by the time you’re mostly done, is long gone. It doesn’t matter though, because in your drunken state your thoughts turn to how embarrassed Elvis is going to be when he takes you home and realizes he got caught in a lie, because you don’t have a Mama anymore.

As you’re stumbling to Elvis’ car, he stops you in your tracks, “Y/N, you alright there?” he breathes and you see his nose flares for a moment, no doubt smelling whatever the hell was in that flask. “What did he do?” He hisses, with murder in his eyes.

“Oh dontcha worry about ole’ Davey over there,” you dismiss, as you grip onto one of his forearms to keep yourself standing (when did they get so big?). “How ‘boutchu take me back home because… I. Gotta. Surprise. For. You.” You say, punctuating your last few words, tapping his nose each time. You can see his eyes widen and his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows nervously, before he quietly agrees.

He gets you back into his daddy’s car seemingly content to have gotten you away from your date, until you’re on the road, and in a fit of… grief… madness… something, you open the window and let one of the evening gloves your mother had let you borrow fly out into the night.

“Ain’t those your mama’s?” He asks, slightly perturbed at your seeming indifference, when you’re usually so careful with your clothes.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum as you let its twin also fly out. The rest of the ride back to the Lauderdale Courts was filled with a thick silence, as you were upset, and Elvis could tell you were upset, yet neither one of you knew how to address it, so you both remained quiet.

Elvis gets you into the building and in repayment for his act of chivalry, you didn’t vomit all over his rented suit. No, instead you bolt into your apartment, that you had left unlocked for your mama without another word. After brushing the taste of bile and fruit punch out of your mouth, you would find him sitting on your couch with that damn letter in his hands.

It is at that moment where you enter and you see the heartbreak and pity in his eyes for you, did you finally recognize that this wasn’t as funny as you thought it would be. No, in fact it leaves you with a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing him that way, but instead of dealing with that you choose to laugh at the situation.

You laugh because otherwise you’ll cry.

“Tell me Presley,” you joke with him. “You make it a habit of reading through other people’s mail?”

“Y/N, I-I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he would say, tears welling in his eyes for you.

“Well we got that in common,” you say, wishing to be numb to the whole world by this point.

“I-I just don’t understand wh-why she would do somethin’ like this,” he states, genuinely unbelieving that a mother could do something like this. You’re confused for a different reason, as you can’t quite find the logic in leaving you behind when she was so close to being able to do so legally after you had graduated.

Guess she just wanted out that bad.

“Oh I know why,” you stated as you threw off your shoes and tossed your legs over his lap. “I’m unlovable,” you say flippantly, while shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t seeking his pity nor his comfort. In your mind you were simply stating a fact. The same way you would state that the sky is blue or that water is wet, Y/N is unlovable. How could you not be, as both people that were all but hard-wired to do so, want nothing to do with you?

You see so many emotions pass through his face at your statement. Until he throws his arms around you and brings you as close as possible to him. “You’re not unlovable,” he declares.

“No I am,” you say, resolved to your fate. “I just need to accept that.”

“You’re not unlovable, Y/N,” he blubbers a bit, tears in his eyes, holding your face in his hands. “Because I lo-”

You quickly slap your hand over his mouth, shushing him, truly not wanting to hear the next words to come out. You’re not an idiot, you remember the way he would look at you before either of you presented, it’s the same way he looks at you now, when he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you know, as did he you suspect, that if either one of you were to ever verbally acknowledge it, everything would be ruined.

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. Nothing would be wrong considering you are actually an Omega, and anybody would tell you being close friends with an Alpha would eventually lead to this. But one thing throws a wrench into this idea: the fact that the thought of being bonded to an Alpha, even Elvis, terrifies you to your core.

You’ve seen how wrong those relationships could go, what happens to the omega and how the Alpha could get out scott free. You know yourself well enough to recognize that you are far too willful and bold to make for a good wife for an Alpha when most would prefer a more demure, submissive mate. Add in how apparently easy you are to leave behind, you doubt your odds of having the ideal life for an Omega look too good.

In your quieter moments you would wonder who you were supposed to be. If you hadn’t been raised with the expectation that you were going to be an Alpha would you have actually exhibited the traits that go with being an Omega. Or would you have still ended up the same way? Neither scenario fills you with comfort.

You try not to dwell on these thoughts too long, as afterall, as far as Elvis knows, being with you like that is impossible. Besides you and Elvis have a good thing going on right now and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

You’ll later blame the alcohol for what had happened next, as you sat next to him, doing your best to stop crying, in spite of your feelings of being unwanted and unloved. But you’re somewhat comforted by Elvis being so close to you, and you liken your next actions as some latent part of your omega brain trying to compensate for your crippling loneliness that night by trying to start something with the nearest Alpha, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Your face buried in his neck, you could feel yourself steady the longer you breathed in his heady scent of leather and rose water, disparate yet no less intoxicating, all tied to something uniquely him. Something you had never really noticed before, given that the suppressants did a good job of dampening your smell capabilities, but being so close to him now, you begin to understand why the other omegas would get giddy moments before he walked into a room.

You remember just every breath filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth, and simply wanting to be as close to its source as possible. His scent reminded you of burrowing yourself in warm blankets on a cold morning or taking the first sip of hot cocoa on a frigid night, that feeling of being so comfortable in your discomfort that you don’t even recognize what it was until you felt the slightest bit of relief from it.

Wanting to further immerse yourself in that scent, you find yourself quickly going from leaning on him, to full-on straddling him, all so that you could better nuzzle your face into his neck. Though from the rumbling in his chest he didn’t seem to mind your invasion of his space too much. In fact he had followed suit by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose into your neck.

Though his discontented snarls tell you he’s apparently having a hard time. As a “Beta” you hardly even register as an option for him, the suppressants apparently making your scent so subtle, you’re about as appealing as a houseplant to him. You on the other hand were practically getting drunk on what little scent was making its way through to you.

So drunk were you in fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing with your hips until he let out a strained groan that reverberated back onto your neck. You don’t exactly know where your head was at, you just remember that he smelled so good and felt even better against your burning core, which is why you felt little shame as you continued to grind into him, the salacious act being hidden from your view by your skirt.

Your eyes meet his and you’re not exactly sure who leans in first, just that somebody did. But almost like magic, that tentative and nervous brushing of your lips against his, broke you from your spell, and made you realize what exactly you were doing.

You tear yourself away from him, nearly cracking your head on the low table as you land on your rear in front of the couch. Horrifyingly you’re now put at eye-level with his legs where you see something tenting the front of his pants. You take advantage of his utterly bell-rung state as you would pathetically crawl away from him and into your own tiny bedroom, to get away from this confusing and frankly terrifying situation.

There’s no lock to speak of so you block the door with your own body, crying into your hands, praying that he sees himself out, though like usual your wishes go unheard.

“Y/N?” You hear from the last person you want to deal with, knock at your door. His voice quivering as though he’s close to tears.

You sob harder.

“Y/N, I’m beggin’ ya here. Please talk to me,” he says, sounding genuinely distraught.

“Go away, Elvis!” You beg through your blubbering. This back and forth continues for a while until your stubborn nature prevails, and you’re left alone.

And all is right in the world.

You would wake up with a god-awful crick in your neck, and feeling unpleasantly feverish beyond belief. You quickly take your suppressants as you have done religiously since you had started on them, and you would spend the day barricaded in your room waiting for your fever to cool down.

Come Monday, Elvis wouldn’t be in school, and in spite of the fact he was the last person you wanted to see, you were given the task of passing along his school work to him. You were no stranger within the Presley household, oftentimes spending the weeks your mother was in heat with them, as Gladys couldn’t stand the thought of you all alone in that apartment. So it was surprising to say the least when she was the one to bar you from entering the door.

“Sweetheart,” she sighs, looking tiredly between you and the apartment behind her. “Elvis is umm… a bit… sick, and he won’t be fit for seein’ for… a few more days.” The blush on her face and the embarrassment in her voice tell you exactly what exactly is happening to him. You quickly dismiss yourself back to your empty apartment.

Well that at least explained why he let you do… that. He was a young Alpha going into his first Rut, he probably would have done the same with a box of cracker jacks if it promised him a good time. It meant nothing, so you were going to treat it like that.

It made more sense than the alternative of your “mini-heat” sending him into a rut. Afterall everybody knows that only true mates are capable of doing that. Most mated couples take a few cycles in order to sync up properly, while in contrast true mates can almost immediately trigger the other's time just by being in the same vicinity while going through theirs. You’ve also heard rumors of something else happening with those couples, but you’ve never bothered to dive too deep into that, and all you know is that it had something to do with how they almost always get pregnant during their first cycle.

True Mates are just rare enough to be special, but happen frequently enough that everybody at least knows one pair. It felt like every single Omega you met dreamed of finding their true mate regardless of how unlikely it is to happen. It also had all the hallmarks of being devastatingly romantic, with the idea that these are the only bonds that are truly unbreakable and that both parties could potentially die without the other, rather than just the Omega.

In theory it should sate your worries about being left by an Alpha, but it does little to help, as the idea scares the shit out of you. The idea that regardless of your own wishes to never be mated to an alpha, some force has apparently fated you to be with someone. Add to the fact that they have yet to make suppressants sufficiently strong enough to quell an omega with a true mate because apparently the bond is that strong, and all you see is a disaster waiting to happen.

You spend the next week trying to figure out the logistics of living on your own. You know Graduation is roughly a month away and without your mother to renew the lease or your father not willing to pay past his legal obligation, you’re going to be homeless. You can chance it with the foster system you suppose if you declare yourself an unaccompanied Omega, but more than likely they’ll send you back with your father, and he’ll more than likely hock you off to the first Alpha that gives you a second glance.

By the end of the week you’ve accepted that your best option for the time being is hoping that Kitty is kind enough to allow you to stay in the storage closet while you get your full salon training. If you sell everything in the apartment and by the time you're making full salary you may just be able to afford a room in a girl’s boarding house. That is until Gladys Presley, after three days of you dancing around the question of “Where’s your Mama, sweetheart?” finally sat you down and refused to hear any more excuses, and you had to quietly admit how you didn’t know.

Gladys is surely a force to be reckoned with as within an hour of your solemn confession she has you at her table with a warm meal, her couch already set up, and the landlord agreeing to forward you the last two months of payment your father is supposed to pay for rent. But what she can’t fix is the fact that you are suspiciously not making eye contact with Elvis.

You had insisted on making yourself useful and helped Gladys clean up afterwards, but once she and Vernon called it a night, you knew there was no getting around it anymore. At around midnight do you hear Elvis shuffle into the living room, clearly hesitant to have this conversation as well.

“You up?”

“No.”

That gets a short huff out of him before he plants himself on the opposite side of the couch as you, essentially sitting on your feet. The room is too dark to really see him, but the slight shaking in his leg and constant shifting tell you he’s just as uncomfortable as you are.

“Elvis about Prom ni-”

“Are you really a Beta?” he cuts you off.

In spite of the darkness within the room, you still try to school your expression to one of confusion rather than shock. “What kind of question is that?” you say, managing to sound tiredly exasperated with him, while your heart is going a mile a minute. “Of course I’m a Beta, why’d ya think I wasn’t?”

“It’s just…” he pauses. “That night-”

“The night nothing happened.”

“Y/N,” he says severely, a tone he has never in his life used with you. “I need an honest answer here.”

You think about your next words carefully. As far as you know Alpha’s can’t literally sniff out lies, nor do you have any reason to believe he can hear some sort of minute difference between a lie and a truth.

For a brief moment you contemplate being totally honest with him, but you quickly dismiss that notion when you shift slightly and feel the hard edge of the couch armrest. Your situation is far too precarious to risk it on a gamble that he may want you, when if anything this past month has proven how unwanted you are.

“Elvis… you’re my best friend,” you state, as this much is true. “Do you really think I would lie to you about something like this?” you say, too cowardly to lie through your teeth and say no, instead you put it on him as to whether he believes you would do such a thing to your best friend.

He sighs in defeat, believing you wouldn’t invoke your relationship on a lie this big. “No… No, you’re right,” though you can hear the slightest quiver in his voice. “It-it’s just bad luck, that all that happened in the same night.”

“Exactly,” you say relieved that he came to the same conclusion that you did about that night. “E, I-I didn’t get a chance to say this yet but… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking me in,” you sigh, not a fan of the coy act.

“It was nothin’ Darlin’,” he says though you can hear him relax a bit at that. “Mama wasn’t ‘bouta let that stand.”

“Well then thanks for nothing Presley,” you say with a grin.

He laughs at that, and says “C’mere you,” as he brings you in close for a hug. You do notice as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and pointedly takes an extra long whiff of your neck. He’s undoubtedly trying one last ditch effort to prove his theory right only to find nothing.

“But I hope you can accept that I’m your mama’s favorite now,” you say as seriously as you could to break the tension, in an effort to ignore what he just did.

He pauses at that before pushing your face back into the pillow and saying around a smile, “alright, go back to sleep, you.”

Those months following your graduation, there was something so simple about those days, almost idyllic, in an odd way. You would be the first up in the household, so it was on you to push Elvis out of bed, take care of breakfast and lunch for the both of you. He would drive you to work in his company truck listening to the early morning radio and you would muse that it would only be a matter of time before the two of you would be hearing him. He would always get red in the ears at that and drop you off at the salon. He would occasionally drop in for lunch and afterwards the two of you would hit up Beale street for a while before heading home. Have dinner with his folks, go to bed, repeat all of that the next day.

You would often practice your makeup skills on him when Gladys was unavailable, giving you a better understanding as to how to not only put makeup on someone else, but how to also highlight a person’s best features. And working so close on him, did you realize that Elvis had many. In return for your “experimentation,” you would go to every single performance of his as support which evolved into doing makeup for him. Oftentimes you’re the last person he talks to before he gets on stage, as you would often help him clean himself up when he got too in his head about the whole thing, but also the first one to greet him once he got off the stage.

Though as the years went on and performing became more routine, and you find yourself in the midst of show business alongside him. Traveling the country and working on movie sets are never things you ever expected to happen, even in the days when you had your life set out before you.

Those days seem so far away now, as though they were a dream of a different life. But now you were in a new era, the “New Elvis” era, which would be one of the worst you ever had the displeasure of witnessing. It was like watching a Peacock be plucked and be told to still be just as eye-catching, and you let the Colonel know as much. You thought it was bad enough having to see him dressed in tails, but you knew the disaster that was headed your way the moment you saw that damn dog being rolled on stage with him.

When they moved into Graceland, the Presley’s took you along with them, and even tried to offer you a room on the top floor, the one specifically designated for family. It was one of the few times you and the Colonel were on the same page about… anything really, as you were vehemently against the initial room he offered you and instead took a moderately sized room on the first floor.  You did this as you know that keeping some distance between you and them will make it hurt a lot less when they inevitably drop you.

Elvis Presley being in your bed is not an unusual experience, something you had gotten used to way back when your bed was the Presley’s couch, and he made it a habit of letting himself in as he pleased in your room at Graceland. So you hardly blink when you wake up to him laying next to you in the middle of the night. Or rather you do several times in order to get all the sleep out of your eyes and try to get a grip of your bearings as you suddenly awaken to a bed full of rockstar.

You had watched him storm out earlier, all passion and fury at the world that wants different and contradictory things from him all at once. Now all that fire has seemingly been extinguished as he lies next to you hands on his stomach, voice quiet and unsure of himself as he asks “You awake Y/N?” imperceptible through the non-existent lighting in the room.

“No.”

He huffs at you, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips, before the room turns solemn once more. And you give a big tear-welling yawn, but you’re still willing to help him through his identity crisis.

“Sweetheart, be honest with me,” he says into the inky darkness. “This ‘New Elvis” thing… ya’ think it’s a mistake?”

“Yes” you answer without missing a beat. You were never one to mince words for him and you’re not about to start now. “Now answer me this: is your name Frank?”

“No,” he answers confused.

“Is your name Bill?”

“No.”

“Is your name Buddy?”

“Y/N, what the hell are ya gettin’ at?”

“What I’m getting at is if they wanted a old crooner in a boring suit, they woulda gotten Frank Sinatra. They wanted clean sanitized rock n’ roll, they woulda gotten Bill Haley. If they had wanted someone popular but not so controversial, they woulda gotten Buddy Holly.” You say, impassioned as you are sleepy, hoping you’re making even a lick of sense to him. “They didn’t get any of them. But you know who they asked to be there?”

“Me?”

“Who?”

He chuckles before saying, “Elvis Presley.”

“That’s right,” you say, poking his chest. “They want you E, controversy and all, because you know what, ain’t nobody better at getting asses in seats and panties on the floor.”

“Y/N!” he exclaims, scandalized and, you can just imagine, red in the face.  

“It’s true though,” you continue. “Being controversial these days hardly makes a difference anymore.”

“How’d ya figure that?”

“Elvis…” you say solemnly. “To my face people shake their heads and click their tongues as to what my daddy did to me and my mama. That doesn’t stop them from patronizing his store and giving him their money to better support his new family.” You feel him give a comforting rub on your shoulder. “Look what I’m trying to say is that, when what you give is good enough, people will overlook just about everything else. And trust me what you sell… sells.” You pause when you feel something hard beside your feet. “Are you wearing your shoes in my bed?”

“...maybe?”

“Get outta here weirdo,” you huff annoyed at his antics, and use all of your might to push him out.

“Alright, alright,” he says, acquiescing and getting out of your bed. “Guess I’ll head to that diner you love all by myself.” You can almost hear the smirk when his statement gets the pause he was looking for.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man Elvis Presley,” you declare. “Give me 20 minutes.”

The next day at Russwood Park, you’re putting the final touches on him before he gets on stage. You can still see the tiniest bit of conflict still on his face so you tickle his nose with your makeup brush to get his attention. “Remember. They don’t like how it sounds…” you trail off.

“They don’t gotta listen.” he finishes, apparently remembering your bit of 12 year old wisdom. Once he got on stage, he would take your advice, but the next time he would crawl back into your bed would be the night he got his draft notice.

None of you were exactly surprised, as everybody had known to expect it sooner rather than later, especially given that Elvis had slowly and steadily become one of the most controversial singers in the country. However the days immediately following it were some of the bleakest you’ve ever experienced.

With The Colonel’s whole rebranding spiel, and how much trouble he got in after Russwood Park, the fresh start idea isn’t terrible at this point, but you wish you could have gotten out easier. As cold as it sounds to say, you now saw the writing on the wall. You’re fully aware of the fact that, of his crew, his make-up girl is on the lowest of priorities. Regardless of how fond he is of you, he is undoubtedly about to be put under a microscope and whether he realizes it or not, he’s about to embark on a new chapter of his life, a chapter that more than likely doesn’t include you.

You want to do your best to put on a brave face for him, the last thing you want to do is add to his stress. And besides it isn’t like you ever truly believed that this was in any way permanent. As life had taught you that nothing is permanent, so why would living with the Presley’s be any different?

It’s just a hard fact of your life that people inevitably get tired of you, and you get left behind for something better. As fun as it’s been with Elvis and his family, never once did you trick yourself into believing that this is how it would be forever. Maybe in those simpler days of practicing makeup on him in the bathroom and lunches in the bed of his company pick up truck… maybe. But as Elvis’ star burned brighter, you were snapped back to reality at how temporary and tenuous your situation was. The same way Elvis outgrew Lauderdale courts, he would outgrow you.

What would he even need his make-up girl for while he’s deployed? The Colonel made it clear he’s not to perform while he’s enlisted, and you doubt wearing makeup will do him any favors in the barracks. And besides, Omegas are unable to even get a passport in Tennessee without explicit permission from their designated Alpha, who in your case, would still be your father.

The father whom you interact with very little these days, the last time being almost a year ago and that was simply to stock up on a year's worth of suppressants. Your father whose business is not seeing as many customers these days because as far as Kitty knows, you don’t need anything from him any more.

Bright side of this is that at the very least you’re not without options this time around. Kitty had made it loud and clear that you’ll always have a place at the Cathouse, and hell you have enough savings to see you through the next few years in Memphis if you simply wanted to wait out his time in the army. But neither seemed appealing to you, as either way your future would still rely on others' good will.

When Elvis had started making movies, of course he dragged you along for the ride up there. You were still the only one he trusted to do his makeup and as a result the studio ended up giving you a crash course as to how to do movie makeup, which you learned was a completely different beast to stage makeup, as you now had to toe the fine line of subtlety. Regardless of all that you did end up making a pretty important discovery, in regard to potential future prospects for yourself. You learned that in the movie making business, Betas are like gold in Hollywood especially for the more practical and technical parts of movie making. This is all due in part to the fact of their overall lack of appeal to Alpha actors, as well as not being as distracting for Omega ones either, not to mention they are far more reliable as they don’t have to worry about pesky heats or ruts.

You also learned that up in Hollywood, you could get access to suppressants about as easily as you could get your hands on a packet of M&M’s, as unlike in Tennessee you didn’t need to be mated in order to gain access to them. As a result, you discovered there were more than a few behind the scenes hands who were also Omegas that masqueraded as Betas in order to get work on the sets, doing wonders to make you feel less out of place there.

Janet, the head of the make-up department Paramount, was initially reluctant to have you aboard but was nonetheless impressed with your ability to pick up the craft as quickly as you did. You had kept her phone number from way back when and decided that now would be a good time to take her up on that job offer. She was ecstatic to bring you onboard but the hiring process being what it is you still technically need to be recommended by former employers.

“You sure I can’t sway you to come back here,” Kitty says as she’s signing the bottom of the letter. The sentimental part of yourself that you had believed you had smothered long ago is screaming yes in your head, not wanting to leave everything you ever knew in Memphis, but the pragmatic part of you knew that your days here are numbered.

You want to be able to bury yourself in her chest and tell her how she’s been like a parent to you all these years. To thank her for all the years she’s cared for you in whatever way she could, taught you your trade that has proven invaluable, steered you in the right direction. But all of that feels too final for your liking, and instead you remark “Unless you got a rich Beta man in the back, then no dice,” all the while giving a casual shrug.  

“Well at least you ain’t followin’ that good for nothin’ boy across the world,” she sighs in relief. Kitty was not a fan of Elvis, she made no secret about it, less so when you turned in your resignation to be his makeup assistant for the Louisiana Hayride. Your best guess as to the animosity is how eerily similar they are when you really pay attention. The same way Kitty could give a single look to any fellow Alpha she had ever met, and make them act right, Elvis could do the same, except make them act however he liked. They’re the type of people that just magnetically attract those around them.

But you also think that it is also on the principle that she dislikes any and all partners her children bring around… Which is ridiculous because everybody knows it’s impossible.

You decide not to waste the trip into town and start heading toward your least favorite place in Memphis. You only make this trip once a year anymore, and you’re hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible. But as the little shop below your old home comes into view, do you recognize what a tall order that is.

“What in the hell is this?” your father seethes as you approach the counter, throwing down a newspaper before you. You see yourself wide-eyed looking into a camera with Elvis leading you by the hand into the car after Russwood Park. The draft notice had left the paper's tongues wagging and apparently of all the photos of him that have been printed, it was just your luck that this one was apparently the one most worthy of being reprinted.

Rather than react with the same guilt or shame that any normal Omega would have when confronted by their father as to why they were seen with perhaps the most controversial Alpha in America, you idly pick up and open a candy bar that was sitting at the front.

“A newspaper,” you say with a mouthful of Baby Ruth. “Can I have what I came here for now?” He throws the pages at you, but if you learned anything from him, it is that flinching earns you nothing but letting the other person know you’re scared of them.  

“Don’t be cute with me girl,” he spits that last part as though you were a stranger and not his daughter. “Why the hell do I find out like this you’re living with that boy?”

“You didn’t care a single goddamn bit where I was livin’ before, why’s it matter now?”

“It matters because what you’ve been doin’ makes me look like a bad father lettin’ my own daughter run around with that… that…” he says snapping his fingers, searching for the right word.

“Degenerate?” you finish for him, as it is the most common insult you’ve lobbed Elvis’ way.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he seethes, a rumble emanating from his chest, but after being surrounded by the likes of Elvis and Kitty, this does absolutely nothing for you, and you wonder how anybody has ever been intimidated by this man.

“Well good news, the only reason you look like a bad father, is because you are a bad father,” you tell him with a smile on your face. “No one thinks of you enough to bother telling lies about you.”

“Outta the kindness of my heart, I been footin’ the bill for these,” he holds up the bag for emphasis. “Only to find out you've been holdin’ out on me.”

“Mmm-hmm, of course that’s what this is about,” a smirk on your face, figuring ou what has got him so worked up. “Why you so worried about money? Saving up for your next attempt at an Alpha kid that’s not gonna happen?”

“Don’t think I don’t know about you and that vicious bitch of a woman, you been costin’ me more money than what these pills are worth for years,” he spits.

“Pills you put me on,” you accuse. The argument ceases almost immediately when you hear the tell-tale ring of the bell at the front of the shop.

“You gonna pay me what I’m owed, or no?”

You want to refuse on principle alone, but you’re so close to being free from all of it, so you don't want to risk it so soon. But you know the kind of trouble something like that could dredge up for you specifically. So it’s with a heavy heart that you agree to pay for them once you get paid for the next movie.

But if your father is good at one thing, it’s believing in his own myth of being the big tough, and in charge Alpha. That you as an Omega will have no choice but to obey his will, even as he hands over the very tool that negates his influence over you.

You have no intention of ever paying him a single goddamn cent of any of it. You’re only on them because of him, and if he wants to scream and holler about how you owe him money, but he won’t be able to do a damn thing, lest he out himself as well.

Besides, you'll be long gone by the time he wises up to the fact that you won’t be paying.

Now there’s only one more letter you need, and it’s not as easy as you would have hoped for. After getting your medicine, you take a few days to really pluck up the courage to do so. He’s been a lot testier these last few days, as was to be expected considering the circumstances.

If all goes well you’ll be able to work on this final movie together with him, before you part ways, and leave with the crew back to California. If not… well you’ll probably just start making your trip far earlier than expected.

You find him in the upstairs office, looking through mail, a stony expression on his face, but it lightens considerably when he sees you with the food Gladys has sent you up with. Well, more like you insisted on taking it up as you’ve been hoping to catch him in a good mood, as there are few things on this Earth that put him in a better one than his mama’s cooking.

“Sorry to bother you E,”

“Ain’t no bother,” he insists, moving some papers out of view to make way for the dish. “I’m tryin’ to get a head count for how big a house I need on base in Texas.”

“How many you at now?”

“Including you? 7,” he says casually, taking a bite out of his food.

“Why would you include me?” You say genuinely confused.

He pauses at that, positively shocked by your response, until a grins splits his face and he gives a short huff of a laugh. “You almost had me there, Y/N,” he chuckles at your apparent antics, settling back into his affable disposition.

You swallow nervously at that, “That’s actually kinda what I came to talk to you about. I-I got offered a job from Paramount out west to work for them, but they’re saying I nee-”

“Jokes over,” he declares, his smile dropping a little, bypassing what you were trying to say. “You got me, alright?”

“... Not alright, Elvis,” you state trying to get your point across. “I’m trying to tell you I’m getting another jo-”

“Y/N,” he says, cutting off your plea, the look in his eyes familiar, but you’ve never had the misfortune of it being directed at you. “Quit the jokin’ now,” he says, his tone severe which you do not care for one bit, but you have to tread lightly if you want to get his sign off.  

“I’m serious Elvis… this… this probably isn’t the best time,” you sigh, for once in your life trying to be careful with your words. “Th-the studio needs letters from former bosses to know that I can do the job, an-and I was hoping you could write one for me.”

The tension hangs thick between the two of you once you are finally able to make your point. You swallow nervously but you don’t sway and inch as he stands from his desk.

“If this is a ploy to get a raise,” he said coldly. “You win Y/N, I’ll pay ye’ whatcha want?”

“No Elvis…” you sigh, trying to keep a cap on your frustration. “You’re not listening. I’ve got a new job lined up in Hollywood, I just need you to write a letter for them telling you I can..” you trail off seeing the expression of fury in his face.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Y/N!?!?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not joking right now,” you say bitingly, your hatred of being yelled at overriding all other things.

“So what… you’re gonna leave me high and dry when I need ya’ the most!?” He says, something akin to heartbreak painting his features.

“Why do you gotta say it like that? Like I’m breaking up with you?” you argue, not liking how he’s making this a bigger deal than it is. “It ain’t like you’re gonna need a make-up girl while you’re doing drills.”

“But I’m gonna need you!” He asserts, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh don’t be like that,” you tell him, literally shrugging him off. “It’s not like I’m gonna be able to live on base with you.

“Then we don’t gotta live on base.” he waves away, as though it were that simple.

“Elvis… I don’t wanna go with you,” you say simply leaving it at that leaving no room for him to argue the logistics of it. It hurts but you know you gotta get out now while the getting is good, because if you wait any longer, he’ll be the one that leaves first and that will be all the worse. For the first time in your life, you want to be the one that walks away on your own terms. “E, I-I gotta go where the work is,” you try to justify.

“So that’s it ain’t it,” he says, his pursed lips turning into a frown. “this was all just a job to you and you’re leaving cuz there ain’t one no more?” he shakes his head at you, disappointment evident on his face.

That… that cuts deep. That he can reduce not only his role in your life like that without guilt, as though you’ve been playing the longest con in history, when you first decided to defend a scrawny 12 year old from his nay-saying music teacher.

“Yes Elvis, if that’s what you want to hear,” you say without a hint of hesitation, willing your tears not to fall now of all times. “This has all just one big job for me, has been since the very beginning. Now there ain’t no job to have and I gotta fucking move on with my life because I don’t fucking need you anymore!” It doesn’t feel great as it leaves your mouth, and the angry tears streaming down your face prove it.

Nor does it get any better when you watch him stagger a bit at that, as though he had just been shot, even taking a hold of the corner of his desk for full effect. A million emotions pass through his face in seconds until he eventually lands on pure unadulterated fury. “Get out! I don’t wanna fuckin’ look at you right now!” he shouts dismissing you, his hands shaking as though itching to wring your neck.

“You got it Boss,” you say bitingly while giving a sarcastic curtsey, to which you turn around and walk out of the room, paying no mind to the destructive sounds coming from behind you. In spite of the biting cold outside your rage is keeping you warm as you pace back and forth along the back patio, trying to figure out your next move.

You’ve had your fights with Elvis before, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen so upset past the point of not wanting to talk with you. Even the biggest blow out between the two of you was exactly that, when he had walked in on you with that Beta who served cotton candy.  

“Well now you know what I’d do for cotton candy,” you tried to joke after they had left, but Elvis proceeded to scream in your face, asking how dare you do something like this to him. You’d seen his territorial side before, as you’re not stupid enough to actually believe there isn’t anything behind all the times he’d casually pick you up and take you away when you happened to be talking to some Beta. But you did not care for being screamed at whatsoever, so you packed your things and proceeded to walk to the nearest bus station. You proved yourself to be far more stubborn than him, as you walked down the road, ignoring his demands that you get into the car as it crawled at a near snail’s pace to keep up with you, and talk you out of going back to Memphis.

As the cars lined up and started honking, you refused him still, even his threats to throw you into the trunk if need be, you didn’t falter. It wouldn’t be any sweat for him to do so, what with that crazy alpha strength of his, but you both knew that would hardly be the end of it if he resorted to that. Finally as the bus terminal got within view did he finally crack and promised to never yell at you like that again.

“You drive me up the goddamn wall, Y/N,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“You love it,” you declared, glad to finally be able to rest your feet, having picked the worst shoes to walk in.

“Yeah… I do,” he sighs and looks over at you from the driver's side. There is a bit of an awkward pause as you find your faces much closer than you remembered and he glances down at your lips.

“God, I’m starving. I don’t know about you,” you quickly say, turning your torso fully around to look out your window, trying to break the tension. “But I could go for a bite and I think I saw a diner up ahead.”

You hear him clear his throat, as he hoarsely replies with a simple “Yeah.” By the time the two of you returned to the motel, you’re the best of friends once more, and neither of you ever mentioned that awkward bit again.

You had hoped after all this time he would’ve let go of that weird possessiveness he has over you. With all the girls that he could have, why do you matter to him so much? You know you’re good with makeup, but you know so are many other girls. And he is capable of opening up to them as he does with you if only he ever got his head out of his ass.

Christmas Eve, Gladys spends the day cooking up a storm, roping in you and Dodger, determined to make this the best Christmas yet. Elvis is still not talking to you but you do find him when you’re looking for your purse, and you watch briefly as he stares deeply into the fireplace, something he’s been doing a lot since your fight.

But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that you have anything to apologize for. You’ll be leaving with or without his permission… which you absolutely do not need either way. And if he chooses to end your friendship like this, then so be it.

Hell if need be you’ll go over his head and ask the Colonel for a letter. You have no doubt that if it means getting you away from Elvis, the Colonel will write nothing short of a glowing review and personally hand deliver it to Paramount.

Christmas day comes and everyone and their mother is over to celebrate. Everybody is living it up and trying their best to not acknowledge the big ole’ elephant in the room. Elvis seemed to be in higher spirits though as he proceeded to act like nothing was amiss, trying to make this a good Christmas for all. It’s almost as though the weather itself knew his plans for a perfect Christmas with the fresh blanket of snow that covered the outside.

Everyone tries to follow suit with keeping up the festive denial, though it doesn’t take long of the both of you obviously avoiding each other for seemingly everyone to notice something is wrong. Some point blank ask what happened between the two of you.

Some of the guys, weirdly enough, ask if you’re feeling sick, which is an odd experience considering that their eyes tend to slide right over you most days. You find yourself compulsively checking yourself in any available surface over and over again, trying to figure out what had them questioning your state. Nothing is out of place, your makeup is flawless and your outfit is perfectly coordinated and festive.

You look beautiful and nothing is wrong. You’re hoping if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe that.

You eventually call it a night after a few hours though not before presents are exchanged and you get the pleasure of seeing Elvis' eyes go a bit glassy once he puts on the new coat you got for him only to find the pockets filled with Gum and Guitar strings, because as upset as you are with him you’re not about to break tradition.

By the time you make it back to your room you all but pass out fully dressed on top of your sheets, and you feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you wake up wrapped in Elvis' old Crown Electric Jacket. You don’t really get a chance to dwell on that too much though as after taking your suppressant, do you notice the noise- or better yet the lack thereof.  

Graceland is many things but it is definitely never quiet, you learned that early on into moving in. There was always something happening, someone visiting, and something new to do, with the occasional errant chicken running around the house, so it takes not even an hour that first day for you to notice the silence.

It’s almost like a ghost town on the floor below, with the only soul to be found, being the head of this household idling away at the piano. You’re about to head back to your room, wanting absolutely none of this until you hear a “Y/N?” from the piano room. You silently curse his uncanny knack for sniffing you out when others couldn’t, while simultaneously breathing an internal sigh of relief that he no longer sounds angry at you.

“Yeah it’s me E,” you state as you walk into the room, resolved to whatever fate you had signed yourself up for.

He turns around to see you see his face flushed and his eyes puffy, no doubt he’s been having trouble sleeping again.

“Y/N… we’re close right,” he asks genuinely, and you know that that boss comment hurt him deeply.

“We’ve both seen each other without makeup, absolutely nothing is closer than that.” you answer.

That gets a chuckle out of him at least, and it’s almost a relief to hear it after going without it for so long. “How many years we been knowin’ each other?” he asks solemnly, as you sit next to him on the piano bench.

It’s as you're saying 8 do you actually realize how long it’s been. “Time is one sneaky sonuvabitch,” you say, your eyes still wide at the revelation.

He laughs a bit at your reaction, “It sure is,” he says. The next look you can’t quite read as he says, “That's 8 years of believing in my dream longer than even I did at some points.” His eyes wide and his face soft.

You’re very uncomfortable at the amount of vulnerability being shown right now and you quickly course correct by lightly moving his chin with your fist and saying, “Hey now don't chu go gettin’ soft on me Presley,” you say, laughing to mask your nervousness.

He takes your hand in his as he says “What I’m tryin’ ta say Y/N, is th-that it’s been 8 years of you supportin’ me in whatever way I needed.” He gives a sad smile at this, before he continues, “I figure it’s ‘bout time I pay that back. I’ll write whatcha need darlin’.”

You’re stunned at this, truly having believed you would be the first to crack. But here he is, subverting expectations as usual. You’re not the most physically affectionate person, you’ll admit, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge to hug him. Not the obligatory side hugs you give on occasion, nor the awkwardly stiff stance when someone hugs you. This is a full on arms-behind his neck bury your face in his neck kind of hug, as you squeal you thank yous over and over to him.

You remember yourself, you pull away slightly once you feel his hands on your lower back tenderly holding you to him, and with your hands on his chest you look at him directly in the face. His eyes gazing up at you, a soft smile on his plush lips, his breathing steady and strong, as opposed to yours which hitches in your throat.

You clear your throat, “Say where is everybody?” you ask casually releasing yourself from his grip and turning your attention toward the window, which showcased the freshly fallen untouched snow of December.

He approaches you from behind and idly places a warm hand on your shoulder, before saying“I let everyone know I need some alone time and I didn’t really wanna see anyone, till we hear back ‘bout the deferment.”

“Shit sorry,” you say, quickly trying to get up. “I’lll get outta your hair,” you say, only for his grip on your shoulder to slip down to your waist.

“You’re not just anyone to me Y/N,” he drawls, his face far closer than necessary.

"Okay weirdo," you say, turning away hoping your face isn’t radiating how warm you’re feeling. You focus your attention on the snow covered lawn before you declare, "But if this ends up like the Donner's, I'm eating you first."

That gives him pause and you see as he purses his lips, clearly trying to hide a smile before he leans in real close to your ear. You don’t fully understand why your heart seemingly skips a beat as he says in a husky drawl, "Not if I don't eat you first."

There was the briefest of moments when you feel your face heat up at his tone until you roll your eyes at him and move him and his stupid little lip bite away from you. You turn around and try to leave the room, content that your little orphan angry ass isn’t going to be thrown out into the snow just yet. But before you can do so, you feel him grab a hold of your wrist, “ain’tcha cold like that darlin’?”

You look down only to be reminded that you had not in fact dressed for the weather today and your short-sleeve blouse and light skirt reflect that. Though oddly you don’t feel the least bit cold, and you feel mildly perturbed as to how in fact you are feeling very comfortable like this. Though of course you hide your concern by saying “You forget, I’m cold-blooded Presley.”  

“Of course you lil’ lizard you,” he says with a smile on his face, as he’s taking off his own jacket. “But mama would have my hide if she found out I let you walk around like that and get sick,” and he drapes the warm material around your shoulders, and then chucks you under your chin to look at him. In spite of your supposedly “cold-blood” you feel uncharacteristically warm as he looks at you.

You quickly make your way back to your room, to open up that secret compartment of your purse to find your suppressants. You take them religiously and know exactly how many you should have left by this point, and you’re relieved to find the correct amount left. You quickly think back to everything that you’ve eaten in the last few days, and nothing sticks out to you that would have affected them and you don’t drink whatsoever so it couldn’t be any of that.

Finally you’re left with no choice but to chalk it up as nothing but you being paranoid. You decide to read on the couch, and somehow between the warmth of his jacket and the soft notes he’s playing, you find yourself in a hypnotic trance and you give into the heavy feeling of your eyelids.

You’re later startled awake when you feel something hit you squarely in the face, confused until the snow begins to melt on you and you feel the cool burn of the cold water on your chest. Elvis is laughing his ass off seeing you like this and nimbly dodges when you throw one of your house slippers at him.

“There were easier ways of wakin’ me up,” you remark through your exasperation.

“Ain’t one of ‘em as funny though,” he says slyly, and you roll your eyes, but your sigh tells him you can’t help but agree. “‘Sides that Twilight show’s ‘bouta start, and I knew you woulda done worse if I let you miss it.”

You’re surprised at that, and as you look out to the dreary looking sky you see that it has in fact been more than a few hours since you’ve been asleep. But it hardly feels like any time has passed between now and then as you still feel like you could sleep for another few hours or even days. You quickly disregard these thoughts though as he tells you it’s only a matter of time before your favorite shows starts.

You take a seat next to him just in time to catch the beginning of Twilight Zone, placing the popcorn between the two of you. You have always loved scary stories like this, and Elvis loved scaring you when you got too wrapped up in the stories. Low and behold as you’re anxiously waiting for Inger Stevens to come across the hitchhiker once again, you feel his cool hands grasp at your side making you all but jump out of your skin.

“I hate you,” you say mulishly as he continues to laugh. Though he doesn’t remove his arm from around your waist which takes your full focus off of the screen, as you look down at his hand curled around your side. You move slightly away from him only for his grip to tighten and you’re pulled even further into him until you're all but sitting on his lap. You’re viscerally reminded of Prom and wonder briefly if he even remembers that night anymore, or if it’s become lost in the shuffle amongst all of the other girls he’s had over the years, and an ugly feeling of jealousy shoots through you in that moment.

“Oh there’s the popcorn,” you say, as you use your whole body to stand up and get off of his lap. You grab it and rather than get back on the couch, you sit yourself on the floor, clutching the bowl in front of yourself as though it were a shield, as Perry Mason was just about to start. You’re hesitant to look at him right now, until he reaches down and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

“Wait I know how this one ends,” Elvis says, with a cheeky grin. “Perry Mason wins.”

He’s just a naturally touchy person, you justify to yourself, don’t read too much into it. “It’s not about if, it’s how goddamnit,” you assert, with a smile on your face. As the show continues you hardly notice when Elvis makes his way to the floor or when he casually throws an arm around your shoulder, though that’s mostly due to the fact that by the half-way mark of the episode, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Even finding yourself leaning on him more and more, and if you weren’t so tired you would wonder why, considering that you spent most of the day napping.

No, you just find yourself silently grateful for that crazy Alpha strength of his to carry you to bed, your bed feeling more comfortable than you can ever remember it as you settle in.

Waking up to find Elvis in your bed is not unusual. Waking up to him under the sheets with you holding you around your waist is rare but occasionally does happen.  Waking up to find that you’re in his bed as he nuzzles his nose into your neck with a handful of your ass while… something… pokes your belly, absolutely unheard of.

You try to peel his hand off and carefully remove yourself from his grip, only for him to roll over fully on top of you and bury himself between your breasts. You stop breathing entirely for a moment, too worried that any sort of chest-heaving may wake him and make this whole situation all the more uncomfortable. Part of you wishes to go back to sleep and hope that this was simply a bad dream, but as he shifts you feel his thigh place itself firmly by your core, the action so sudden and shocking that you audibly gasp.

You feel him stir at that and your face is burning, embarrassed by this whole ordeal, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get as he plants a sleepy kiss on your neck and removes himself from you. You think you’ve reached new heights of humiliation, until you find him between your thighs and feel one of his hands start to travel up your skirt.

This has got to be a dream, you think.

“Ok, you’ve had your fun,” you say, trying not to make your skittishness so apparent. “You can quit it now,” but then his other hand travels further up and you’re almost too distracted to notice its twin hook on to your panties and begin to drag them down. And before you can make any noise of protest, it turns into a surprised squeak as you feel his hot breath waft over your now naked cunt. You’re frozen in place as to what the hell is going on, both fearful and hopeful as to what he’s about to do next.  

Those seconds seem to drag on for hours, there’s nothing stopping you from closing your legs or even covering yourself with your hands, but neither of these occur to you. Instead you lay there paralyzed as he further parts your thighs and using his tongue lightly trace up the seam of your cunt.

That sends you into overdrive and removes any possibility that this is a dream, as he languidly tongues your core. Your hips almost immediately buck up but he keeps you down with a forearm across your lower belly, as he tenderly nurses at your clit.

You grab at his hair but that only seems to further invigorate him, as his groans seem to reverberate off of your walls and he goes from focusing on that bundle of nerves, to delving lower and lower to that seldom explored entrance of your cunt. You restlessly try to push his head away from you, but your thighs apparently have a mind of their own as they box him in when you feel the tip of tongue lightly trace the rim of your fluttering hole.

His tongue, you are learning, has talents well beyond singing as you feel that wicked muscle eagerly delve into what little access you have (reluctantly?) granted him. The pleased hums he’s making, demonstrating how much he’s enjoying the act don’t help either.

Eventually you find your hands running through the hair that you, probably more than anyone in the world, are most intimately familiar with, even seeing the hint of his light roots that you’ve neglected to touch up in the last few days. You’re at the very least glad that the two of you are alone in the house, because you doubt you would have been able to muffle the downright filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.

The noises you’re making seem to only spur him further, as his thumb goes from an unhurried pace to a far more goal-oriented motions as his tongue goes rigid and plunges as deep as it could go and then, almost playfully, wiggles within you.

You’re left seeing stars, your pussy clamping down around his tongue, though he removes it almost immediately in order to prolong your euphoria by sucking on that little button of yours.

Even after all of that, you still held out hope that this was some weird sleepwalking episode and somehow feeling another warm body, he was going off of instincts until he removes himself from your pussy, nonchalantly wiping his mouth with his thumb, and looks you right in the eye with a look that tells you he has an appetite that has only been mildly wetted.

“Guess I ate ya’ first darlin’,” he remarks with a very sweet kiss to your lips, as though he didn’t just make you have the best orgasm of your life. God you’re so familiar with these lips, yet it still takes you by surprise as to how soft they feel against your own. You’re only human so lord forgive if you wish to indulge in the fantasy of perhaps every teenage omega in the country. But quickly you gain your bearings, remembering that as far as he’s concerned, you’re a Beta through, and through.

It kills you a little to remove yourself, breathing raggedly as you try to come to grips with what is happening. His eyes are blown out entirely, and he licks his lips as though you’re a meal waiting to be devoured, but even then you instinctively know he’s seeing you as you are.

This trance you’re both in is broken by the shrill ring of the phone from the upstairs office. He gives a soft curse, before he rolls out of bed and casually walks out of the room. You’re left leaning against the pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, utterly shell-shocked, mindlessly fixing your skirt to cover up your bare pussy as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

But it’s as you’re doing that does an unbearable fire come upon you. A terrible fever emanating from your lower belly overwhelms you and as you helplessly inch out of his bed every instinct within you is screaming how bad of an idea that actually is. Every step away from that bed is agony, as though you’re wading through lava, away from any safe haven you may have found. Even trying to move your panties back into place feels scalding and you’re left with no choice but to remove them completely, leaving you completely accessible. You shiver at the thought, and not from the cold.

Briefly you wonder if maybe Elvis had something to do with this sickness you’re experiencing, but as you feel a throbbing emptiness from deep within you, do you realize that this is in fact a long ignored part of yourself that is simply roaring back to life. You finally recognize what exactly this is and recognize what sort of trouble you’re in.

You skittishly look out the door and, finding the office door closed with his voice behind it, you make a quick beeline to the staircase, and from there dash to your room, where you quickly barricade yourself in with your vanity table. And in the mirror are you forced to face what you are. Your eyes blown out, your clothes wrinkled and disheveled, the makeup you neglected to take off before bed smudged, sweat running from the warmth emanating from within you, and your whole body trembling under the effort to not flip over the table and run directly back to him. Not to mention the slippery feeling of your thighs as your slick runs freely, unhindered by any. You look at the very image of the idyllic debauched Omega and you finally recognize something is very wrong.

You have never in your life neglected to take your suppressant a day in your life, and quickly counting them, you find no extras, so that’s clearly not the case. It is as you are doing a double count do you realize something off about them. Looking directly at your suppressants underneath the light, they looked off. They were a slightly more yellowish white than they usually are and picking one up to inspect it, your nail catches the edge of it and it crumbles a bit. Neither of these things bode well for you. You desperately look for your extra doses of suppressants only to find them missing.

That’s when it goes from less than ideal to utter nightmare territory. You don’t know how nor do you know why, but your suppressants are no longer effective and you may very well be hurdling full force into heat, alone in a home with an unmated, virile Alpha. You immediately get to packing what you can, trying to figure out your best means of escape.

You try to assess your options as to where you can go for the next few days, but with all your options being either Alphas or out of town, you have no choice but to go back to your father. But your most pressing issue as of right now is how you’re going to get out of this room. Your windows are sealed shut, so you’re left with no choice but to venture out back into the house and pray he’s still upstairs.

You’ve done your best to ignore the steady stream of slick that has been running between your thighs, but the idea that he’s out there somewhere, causes a new rush of it to burst out, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose all restraint and give in to what your biology is demanding of you.

You made a beeline for the front door, your mind determined to make it out of Graceland but it was upon actually getting to the front door do you find your hands hesitating for a second. Some latent part of yourself really questions if it would be so bad to be his, questions why you have to fight it when he’s been nothing but good to you.

But it was your moment of hesitation that gave enough time for a familiar ringed hand to slam the door shut on you. “Baby, there you are,” despite the door now shutting out the cold, you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Elvis I-I-I,” you swallow, his scent so heady and powerful you can almost taste him on the back of your tongue. “I need to leave.”

“I just got the good news,” he states, completely blowing past what you just said. “They granted me the deferment for the movie.”

“Elvis, I’m begging you,” you plead, as a bruising grip on your wrist forces you to let go of your packed bag. You’ve only ever cried once in your life in front of him, but now the tears flow freely down your face.

“Don'tchu worry your pretty little head ‘bout anythin’ darlin’,” he coos, wiping the tears from your cheek. “You go where I go, ain’t nothin’ gonna change ‘bout that.”

Even after all the time that had passed, you can still vaguely taste yourself on him, not an unpleasant taste, but your thoughts quickly turn to wondering how he would taste, or better yet how the both of you would taste together. The kiss becomes heavier and deeper as you wrap your arms around him and boldly run your tongue over those sharp canines of his, some masochistic part of you demanding to press harder.

Your chest is heaving, needing more oxygen than you personally think is necessary, and yet you find yourself giving pathetic little whimpers as he leaves your lips in favor of marking a trail of kisses down your body.

He kneels down before you, burying his face in the crevice between your thighs, the only barrier between you and him, being the thin material of your skirt. It was only then did you notice the brief relief from the fever you felt, all due to his close proximity. “You smell ripe for the pickin’ sweetheart,” he breathes out in a raspy tone, looking up at you as though he were in prayer, as his hand drags the zipper of your skirt down. It slips down fully with only the slightest of tugs, and your left trembling, bare from the waist down in front of him, as your thighs shift uneasily the slick that’s gathered making it all the easier.

You try not to look down at him, as though that will stop what’s happening right now. His tongue is now collecting every trace of your wetness it could find and just barely missing where you feel you need him most, to which you’re not afraid to voice your disapproval of.

“Don’t mind if I take the first bite,” he whispers, the tip of a canine barely scraping the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s that contact that reminds you what exactly is at stake here. Without warning you do your best to push him to the ground. He’s caught off guard but manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass, but the momentary surprise gives you just enough room to slip out.

You are about to sprint all the way back to your room, hoping to lock yourself in, until you feel an iron-like grip on your ankle. You’re barely able to catch yourself with your hands, but you're quickly dragged backwards. You desperately claw at the carpets, trying to find some kind of purchase only for him to grab a hold of both your wrists in one hand.

And that’s that. You’re thoroughly wrangled, no means of escape and no one coming to save you. You recognize how thoroughly fucked you are (or ar going to be) and that really no point in fighting it anymore, but you can’t even trust yourself enough to say that it wasn’t intentional on some level.

Let it never be said you’re not stubborn until the very end.

“Now I didn’t appreciate that one bit,” he hisses at you, and you hear the tell the shifting of fabric as he moves his pants down his hips, still holding your wrists down.

“Please Elvis,” you say desperately, only managing to wiggle your hips slightly which doesn’t help your case whatsoever. His hand is now splayed along your lower belly, as he lifts your hips into a new position to you, your cheek still stuck to the carpet. “You don’t want to do this,” you sob hoping he’s not too far gone, though with the way he groans at the feeling of your warm ass on the underside of his cock, even you understand there’s nothing that’s going to stop this from happening.

“What I want is ta tan your hide, for denyin’ me this sweet little pussy a yours for all these years,” he growls hungrily next to your ear, and those words shouldn’t have you keening and writhing like you were, but they do and you are. “But we’ll save that when it won’t be so pleasant for you. ‘Sides your cunt is achey enough already, ain’t it?” he purrs, the head of him prodding at your core, barely catching the rim of your entrance.

“Yes, oohh yes Elvis,” you whine, pathetically. “Please-”

You can’t say for certain whether or not you were gonna continue to deny him, all you can say is that all thoughts or hesitations seem to melt away as you feel him push himself in. Your eyes threaten to roll back all the way into your head, it felt so good. You're practically dripping wet at this point, but even still the girth is still something to contend with, as you’ve never had to handle equipment this big before, and at the angle you’re at you can’t quite make-out how much more of this you’ll have to take.

Elvis though is about as patient as he could be under the circumstances. He’s like steel wrapped in velvet, silky yet unyielding, as he sinks into you like hot butter, until finally his hips meet your ass. His heavy member has found a home in your cunt, and with the patience of a goddamn saint, he waits until your moans and groans aren't so ambiguous, and has the sound of a woman enjoying herself.

You’re low groan when he moves out, turns into a high-pitched shriek when he slams back into you. You sympathized with him when the papers started calling him The Pelvis but now being here underneath him , you can’t think period, let alone think of a more fitting nickname considering how well he’s wielding his to go at a harsh yet tender pace behind you.

In his rutting frenzy, he’s seemingly forgotten his hold on your wrists, but you in turn have abandoned your initial fervor to get away from him. You find yourself pushing backwards, desperate to keep him inside as best you can, frantically rubbing tight little circles on your clit with a single-mindedly chasing release, while you push off your other hand and try to meet his thrusts.

But he hasn’t quite gotten over that sadistic streak of his as he stops mid thrust and holds your waist preventing you from moving any further. You want to cry, you were so close, but the part of you that wants to be good and obey him wins out over the willful side of you, and you bury your forehead into the carpet. And as still as you can manage, you wait with bated breath for his next move.

“I tried bein’ nice ‘bout it, let you come to me,” he whispers in your ear as he moves the collar of your shirt out of the way, kissing the newly exposed skin. “But you gotta be so goddamn stubborn ‘bout everything,'' He hisses and you feel his warm breath waft on the back of your neck, and you know what’s coming next. You’ve dreaded this happening for years, but it’s so much worse than you ever could have imagined, because it’s coming from the last person you expected. You feel his lips curl into a small smile against your skin, and you feel the light scrape of one of his canines against your skin. “But I ain’t about ta have you any other way.” And without wasting another moment, he sinks his teeth into your neck marking you as his until the end of your days.

The sheer amount of pleasure and pain surging through your body makes you feel everything and nothing at all. All that registers really is the euphoric feeling as to where the two of you are joined together -at long last- so you didn’t miss a single moment as you feel the base of his cock start to swell. You're so startled that you try to pathetically crawl away only for him to take a hold of your still sore hips and bring you flush against him, as he seemingly grows and grows within you, well past what you ever thought could have fit up there.

You briefly black out for a moment not so much reaching your peak, but being rocketed to heights beyond what you could have ever imagined. Longer and more intense than you’ve ever been able to achieve, with a partner or otherwise, you’re a shivering pile of flesh, no longer tied to another worldly want other than the man behind you.

His moans are pure ecstasy, his hands undoubtedly leaving bruises on your hips, and his member resting heavy inside of you. Even though, on some level, you know it’s a fool's errand, you nonetheless try to separate yourself from him only to be given a painful reminder why this thing was often described as being “locked in.” You could feel yourself already stretched past your limit, refusing to let go of him, and you hear him groan from the new sensation, as tears flow down your cheeks from the pain.

What’s worse is that when you finally give up and snap back into place do you both shudder at the sensation as he reaches some part deep inside of you. You black out for a moment from going from intense pain to immense pleasure almost immediately can do that to you only to now find yourself on your side with Elvis behind lazily rocking his hips into yours as he leaves blistering kisses where he can and scorching trails everywhere else he could reach.

You’re left with no choice but to stay put and try not to enjoy every roll of his hips against yours, though you stubbornly bite your own lip to prevent yourself from making any noises, approving or otherwise. But this plan quickly falls apart as your mulish defiance of him and his wants are nothing compared to the swift slap on your pussy that causes you to bite down hard on your own lip. Your stupid protruding canine gets your lip, and upon your instinctual cry and release of your lip do you begin to taste the coppery flavor of your own blood. You attempt to hide your face only for him to grab a hold of your jaw, only to lick up the small trail of blood to your chin. You’re way past being able to be shocked by him anymore, and simply choose to relish in this sinful act, with a man who has been trying to clean up his image for the past few months.

If you had to guess, you’re like that for roughly an hour, until finally he’s at a size where you're finally able to remove yourself from him without discomfort, other than the veritable flood that comes gushing out of you without his cock to keep all of it in. Towards the end, he had shifted you so that you were back on your knees, your head resting on your forearms, with your ass in the air and you could only watch mesmerized as a small stream of his milky white seed runs down your thigh only to stop where your knee meets the floor where it proceeds to disappear into the ivory carpet beneath you.

You hear him purr behind you, apparently just as captivated by the show your pussy is giving him. In one swift motion you find yourself on your back and as he follows the path his cum had trailed down your leg, back to its source. You gasp as you feel him dip his fingers back into you and he hooks some of the seed out of your cunt only to use your now open mouth to stick them in there.

It’s almost like a switch goes off in your head with that first real taste of him. You no longer try to fight with yourself, not even choosing to give in really, because with the way you're feeling right now it’s not even really a choice anymore.

“Anything that ain’t goin’ into your pretty pussy is goin’ in that smart mouth a yours, you understand lil’ mama?” he purrs, satisfied as your tongue splits his fingers trying to get every single drop of him you could. “We don’t wanna let any of this go to waste now do we?”

“No,” you cry desperately, truly ashamed as to what you’re becoming. But you have no time for those thoughts as he surprises you by returning back down to your pussy.

“Keep your mouth open,” he orders between your thighs, words slightly muffled as they are against your lower lips. You're confused as to what he’s doing until he gives a light press on your lower belly and his cum gushes out of your poor abused hole and into his waiting mouth. He takes what comes out before he crawls back up to you to get a hold of your jaw, a dangerous look set in his eyes.

You dutifully do as he says and open up. Once that hot, heady flavor of your combined fluids hits your tongue you’re gone, without ego and fully submitting yourself not only to him but the primitive Omega brain that wants nothing more than to be his. You even wrap your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, so that the two of you could fully share this obscene cocktail that you both have managed to create.

“Aww baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours. “We wasted so much goddamn time not doin’ this.” In your state of mind you can’t help but agree.

He takes you on just about every available surface of the house, and you truly believe that the only reason he didn’t venture outward was due to how cold it was. If you had the capacity to think beyond seeking your next release you would feel ashamed as to what everybody will undoubtedly smell when they return. But all you could really focus on at any given moment was how good he felt inside you, or tasted on your tongue.

As frantic as he was to keep as much cum inside of you as possible, he also seemed to gain a specific kind of pleasure seeing you drip with his seed and having you swallow it in penance. You can’t get enough of any part of him and he makes good on his promise as to where his cum would go (where it belongs,) and for a solid week you are sustained almost solely on that save for whatever Elvis can scrounge from the kitchen. There’s almost a soft melancholy when you swallow him, as though he’s truly saddened over the lost potential of that particular load, as though he’s not stuffing you full of it seemingly every hour.

But in your haze you were all too happy to take what he could give you, you cunt greedy for all that he can give you.

And it’s underneath him that you learn about Alpha anatomy. Knotting, as you learn it’s officially called, is something Elvis can only do two to three times a day before he has to rest. Doesn’t stop him from trying every single time, nor does it stop him from having you

It becomes easier and easier each time, until you find yourself after each peak desperately grinding on to him, hoping that his knot would make a reappearance and make you feel whole. By the third day you even find yourself falling asleep with it within you, finding the fullness comforting, as though reassuring you that he won’t disappear on you in such a vulnerable state. The few times he’s left the bed you’re left a helpless, writhing mess desperate for him, even when he’s promised you he would be gone only for a few minutes. Part of you thinks he leaves more often than strictly necessary, considering the smug look he gives seeing you so needy for him and practically begging for his cock as you fruitlessly tried to replicate that sense of fullness only he could give.

“Empty,” you mewl, at this point incapable of full sentences.

He’s decided to torture you a bit rubbing the head of his cock on your clit. The hand splayed on your soft stomach prevents you from moving too much, wanting to take his time with you. Your whimpering begging for what you want desperate

“You ain’t ever gonna feel that way again,” he whispers through his kisses along the mark he left. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, ain’t no way you won’t be carryin’ my baby. Ain’t that whatchu want sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you cry desperately, willing to agree to anything, if he would only give you what you wanted, perhaps marking one of the few times he’s won a battle of wills against you.

You’re more animal than woman that week, a slave to her desires, a creature whose sole purpose is to be fucked and have his babies, if Elvis’ whisperings during this time are to be believed. You worry as to whether or not this more primitive side is due to your lack of experience with being in heat or if this is what to expect from every heat going forward. You feel as though someone else has taken the reins to your body and you’re simply meant to enjoy the ride.

Elvis on the other hand stays aware, and he takes care of you throughout it all, making sure you eat enough and drink water, makes sure your lips don’t dry out, licks at your wounds to help speed up the healing process, etc. You’ve never felt so needy, and you’re barely coherent enough to form complete sentences, and so you show your appreciation by being both as vocal and as obedient as possible.

He usually spends recovery periods licking you clean, though not necessarily where you initially thought he would’ve. You can’t help but conclude his love affair with the taste of your blood considering how much time he spends on the small wounds he’s made all over your body.  In his initial eagerness to explore your body in those first few hours, he had “accidentally” nicked you every so often, the sole exception being the twin crescent marks you can feel on your neck and on your ass, which was clearly nothing less than intentional. Though your state and his efforts have significantly sped up the healing process, you know by the end of this you will be left with a constellation of scars.

“This one” he said lightly running his fingers along the marred skin of your neck. “That one’s for the world baby,” he coos, as he gives it a light kiss, making the slap that lands perfectly on top of the mark on your bottom, all the more surprising. “That one’s just for me and you. So you best not forget who that belongs to.”

“Never,” you sigh happily.

It’s almost funny when you think about it, how the world demands a clean-cut, sexless teen heart-throb, as though a majority of them aren’t also beholden to this primitive state of theirs. Looking at him now above you, his teeth sharp and bared, his grunts and groans echoing throughout the house, the bruises and scratches you’ve been able to leave on his torso, even the stubble you’ve felt more than you’ve seen, all paint a very primal portrait of him. He’s something wild, untameable even, someone who isn’t afraid to show how he is beholden to his own desires and instincts as the rest of the world hid from them, and tried to act like they don’t exist.

If it weren’t for the knot you would be hard-pressed to find much of a difference between this Elvis and the standard one.

By the end of your heat, you’re thoroughly exhausted, you don’t even have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You’ve just resolved yourself to your fate that will forever be tied to the boy you once thought you knew. You don’t even have the luxury of knowing whether these thoughts are your own, and not some long suppressed Omega part of you that simply wants to enjoy the way his calloused guitar hands gently rub the soft part of your lower belly.

But if this week has been about satisfying long-standing desires you’re not about to hold back on your desire for knowledge. Specifically how he discovered your secret.

“I wasn’t ‘bout a let you go without a fight baby,” he whispers, comfortable in not needing to hide anything from you anymore, as you’re thoroughly ensnared. “I was cookin’ up some not so nice plans to keep you by me no matter what. Only for a goddamn Christmas miracle to drop into my lap.” he says, allowing you to make your own pace at which to ride him.

“Your daddy sent me a bill in the mail, and I think you know what he was charging you for, dontcha?” he purrs, lazily thumbing at your clit and watching as your breasts bounced in rhythm with your frantic bucking.

“Bein’ the good mate I am, I let him know that you weren’t gon’ need any of that shit no more,” he says, giving a firm slap on your ass seemingly just because he felt like it. “And I some interestin’ things about them pills. You know what stops them pills from workin’ right?” he asks, lazily rutting into you.

“What?”

“You add a lil’ heat,” he growls, and suddenly his obsession with the fireplace these last few days makes perfect sense.

He spoke to you of how he’s been dreaming of this for years, and how he’s known that you were it for him, even when he thought nothing physical could happen between the two of you.

But even as he spoke, there was an ever present air of inevitability when he spoke to you as to how he envisioned your future together as though this was always meant to happen. And it was only a matter of you catching up to him. Afterall you were the one who taught him to ignore what he didn’t want to hear. And he didn’t want to hear no from you.

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates  @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 ​ @isthlsfate ​ @mgparker ​ @thatbanditqueen ​ ​ @softsatnin ​ ​​@literally-just-elvis-fics

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

🪿🪿🪿🪿Dove! 🤌👏🫰 ayoooo

I’m here for the followes event —

I’d like to yhhh request prompt #3 with Jade :] 🔪

It can be fluffy/hurt/comfort honestly whichever you’re feeling (I know sometimes the writing does what it wants once you get into it lol)

Backup prompt: #4

Backup characters: Malleus, Riddle

Thankfuho you (I just wokeu p and can’t type to spell but whatever I’m just leaving it ❤️)

Discovering Old Secrets; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, implied romantic relationship

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I originally had something else in mind that used the knife emoji but my brain wasn't braining. But this, this is so much better and fluffier than I had planned /positive.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were down in the basement, lantern in hand illuminating the way. The power had gone out, and of course, the fuse box was in the basement of all places. Sevens forbid the person who built the cottage you were staying in actually put it in an easy-to-access spot. Nope! They had to put it in the creepy, old, basement. And since Jade was out getting groceries, that left you to fix it yourself. So, lantern in hand, you started fiddling with the fuse box, trying to find the one that had blown. At least you had some prior experience, what, living in Ramshackle and all; you had become well acquainted with getting stubborn fuses to work for you, even jokingly calling it your unique magic. 

“Come on, work for me baby,” you muttered, and all of the lights flickered to life once again. “Ha ha! Me? One! Fuse box? Zero!” You dusted yourself off and looked around the basement, now that you could see everything.

Apparently the people who rented this place out didn’t take out all of the old owners’ boxes, and they were just laying there collecting dust and cobwebs. There couldn’t be any harm in just taking a tiny peak, never know what you could find.

As you were gently looking through the boxes — hey, they’re probably old and you didn’t want to accidentally break anything — you heard the front door open and close. Jade was back which meant you had been digging for a bit. Sighing, you stretched, and made your way to the kitchen with its bright yellow cupboards. 

Jade hummed you a greeting and chuckled a bit at seeing the dust. “What did you get into while I was away, dear,” his voice was teasing, but he was genuinely curious.

“Welllll,” you drawled, “the power went out so I had a little fight with the fuse box, I won by the way, and discovered some old boxes down in the basement and was seeing if they held anything interesting.” A loud sneeze escaped from you, a result of all of the dust. “But all I found was a tonne of dust, way too many spiders for my liking, and,” you fished around in your pocket, “this key.”

Jade set the groceries down and came over to inspect it. “Well that’s rather interesting…” he murmured. “May I?”

You handed him the key, curious about what he seemed so interested in. Sure it was pretty, made from silver and inlaid with abalone and pearls, which were now weathered with time. There must have been a good reason why it peaked his interest.

Jade wandered into the living room, and started running his hand under the shelves of the large bookcase which was built in the wall. And then he stopped, a proud and large smile gracing his face. He placed the key into a divot in the bookcase, and it swung inwards, revealing stone steps leading down. “Looks like you just helped discover an old secret, my dear,” he chuckled, beckoning you to follow him down the stairs.

Slowly, you followed him, the light from the cottage helping to illuminate the way, as well as a pale blue glow from below. And then you stopped, having reached the bottom. In front of you was what looked like an underwater sea cave, with a shallow beach. And light gently filtered from a small hole at the top, causing the blue glow that you saw.

You looked over to Jade, hoping for an explanation, but you found him looking at you instead, expression soft.

“What did you mean by old secrets,” you whispered, not wanting for something louder to break the serene scene.

Jade took your hands in his and led you to the water, just deep enough where the water lapped against your calves. “The key you found, this place,” he briefly broke eye contact so he could observe the cavern before they travelled back to you. “It opens a secret meeting place, where land and sea can live together… it was forged by the love of a human and a merfolk.”

Just like us. 

Jade continued moving deeper until you were chest deep in the water, and he dived under, changing into his merform before coming back up. “And is only discovered by those curious enough to pursue it.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

He’s Mine // Charlie Walker

request: “can we get a charlie walker x gn!obsessive!reader”

“can we get a charlie walker x obsessive!gn!reader - where reader is just as obsessive over charlie as he is with kirby, but he’s unaware of it before it’s ‘too late’.”

prompt: none

summary: you’re in love with charlie walker. or maybe obsessed would be a better word. you’ve dealt with your obsession silently until kirby makes a move on him, and you finally decide to do something about it.

warnings: gore, murder, somewhat graphic description of murder, language, holding a knife to a throat, kinda forced kiss, not proofread

word count: 1.6 k

a/n: ok so not entirely movie accurate cause sidney never shows up at kirby’s house, but other than that i tried to keep it pretty close

You sat next to Kirby on her couch, trying to keep your attention on the movie. It was one of the Stab movies, but you just couldn’t remember which one. After the third one, they all blended together. Maybe you’d be able to figure it out if you could manage to pay attention to the screen, but all your attention was focused on what was happening next to you.

Kirby and Charlie were shamelessly flirting with each other, and it made your blood boil. How could Kirby do something like that to you?! She knew you were in love with Charlie, and she just decided to flirt with him anyways?!

Well, you assumed she knew. You never actually told her, or your other friends, but you thought your feelings for Charlie had been pretty obvious. I mean you stared at him almost all day during school, and even more so when he was talking to your friends. He had never paid you much attention, acting like you weren’t even there sometimes. It did hurt your feelings a bit, but him not noticing you made watching him a whole lot easier.

“Why don’t you make a move?” Charlie asked Kirby.

“I just did.”

You glanced over at them, and saw they were about to kiss. You couldn’t let that happen. You were letting things go too far, and you weren’t just going to sit there and let Kirby take Charlie away from you. You had been dreading this. It was a backup plan, a last ditch effort if things weren’t going your way. But as long as Kirby was around, it seemed like you could never have Charlie. Plus, with a killer on the loose, you had a perfect scapegoat. What’s one more body in a bloodbath anyways?

You poked Kirby on the arm, and she groaned as she turned over to look at you.

“Have you seen Jill? She’s been gone for a long time. I’m starting to get worried,” you said, pretending to look concerned.

“She’s probably upstairs hiding from Trevor. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this. Let’s go look for her. Come on, it’ll only take a minute.”

Before Kirby could answer, you stood up from the couch and practically yanked her up with you. Gripping her arm you led her out of the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Charlie, frustration evident in her voice.

Charlie said something in response, but you were too far away to make it out. You headed towards Kirby’s bedroom and pulled her inside. You turned around and subtly locked the door, brushing it off as attempting to look for your backpack. You spotted it on Kirby’s dresser, walking over to it and pulling out your knife. You hid it behind your back and walked closer to Kirby.

“Well, she’s clearly not in here. Why don’t you just call her or something? She probably found her phone by now,” Kirby said.

“Oh, I’m sure she has,” you replied, walking closer to Kirby.

Every step you took to get closer to her caused her to take one back, until she walked into her bed and fell onto it.

“Uhm, y/n? What are you doing?”

You pulled your knife out from behind your back, and placed the tip against Kirby’s throat.

“I really wished that I wouldn’t have to do this, but I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice Kirby.”

Kirby’s eyes widened and she tried to back up, only to back into the wall, leaving herself cornered.

“This can’t be happening. You’re the killer? You’re Ghostface?”

You simply smiled at her, which made her even more uneasy.

“No, I’m not actually. I have no clue who the killer is. But you’re getting in my way. And how convenient for me that at the exact time I have to get rid of you, there’s a killer on the loose? It’s almost too perfect. No one’s even gonna look at me. Once they catch the killer, you’ll just be one of their victims.”

“What do you mean I’m getting in your way? Let’s just talk about this, ok? You don’t have to get rid of me, just tell me what you want.”

“Poor little Kirby. You think that’s actually gonna work on me. You’re getting too close to Charlie, and he’s starting to become attached to you. Even if you did stop talking to him, as long as you’re alive he’ll still want you. But if you were to simply be removed from the picture, you’re no longer standing in my way.”

“Y/n, please,” Kirby begged you.

“Charlie is mine,” you said, slashing your knife against Kirby’s throat.

Her blood sprayed against you, and you smiled. Finally, she was out of the way. You plunged your knife into her heart and twisted it, just to make sure she was really dead. By now, you were almost as bloody as she was, and it felt exhilarating. You wiped your knife on Kirby’s bed to clean it off, and hid it in your jacket. Now it was time to put on a show.

You opened Kirby’s door, and as soon as you stepped out you screamed. You ran down the stairs and Charlie was running towards you. You pretended you were terrified and ran into his arms.

“The killer is here. Kirby- she’s,” you faked a sob in between your words, “she’s dead!”

“It’s okay, we’ll get you out of here,” Charlie said, leading you over to the front door.

He pulled it open and Robbie was walking up the steps, covered in blood.

“Run,” he breathed out before falling.

You screamed and tried to shut the door when Ghostface pushed it back open and got inside. You tried to get away, but Charlie wasn’t moving. You watched as he walked over to Ghostface, and instead of trying to fight them or get away, he started yelling at them instead.

“What the fuck, Jill?! You said I could kill Kirby! That’s what we agreed on! You know I wanted to be the one to kill her, why would you do that?” he shouted.

Ghostface took off their mask, and much to your surprise it was Jill. She looked equally as pissed off as Charlie did.

“Uhm, what are you talking about? I didn’t kill her! You said you wanted to, I wouldn’t take that from you babe,” she replied, surprisingly calm.

You knew you should’ve probably been upset at the fact that one of your best friends was a serial killer, but what bothered you more was that Jill called Charlie “babe”. That alone made your blood boil. Not only did Kirby try to flirt with him, but Jill had the audacity to date him and flaunt it right in front of you. She wasn’t going to get away with this. She wasn’t going to get in your way.

“Ok, well if you didn’t kill her, then who did?” Charlie asked, still visibly angry.

You smiled and pulled your knife out of your jacket.

“I did,” you said.

They both looked over at you, very clearly shocked. You just walked closer to them, toying with the knife in your hands.

“You? Why would you want to kill Kirby?” Jill asked.

“Because she was getting in my way. And now, so are you,” you said, walking closer to Jill.

“What are you talking about?”

You didn’t even bother answering her, and instead you stabbed her in the neck. You twisted the knife before pulling it out, and smiling as Jill fell to the floor.

“What the fuck y/n?” Charlie shouted.

“I already told you, they were getting in my way. But there isn’t anyone coming between us anymore.”

You walked towards Charlie, and he tried to back up, only to walk into the wall behind him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re mine, Charlie. Nothing is going to change that. And now that Kirby and Jill are gone, there’s no more competition. Not that there was any real competition in the first place. You were always mine, it didn’t matter if they thought they had a chance.”

You walked closer to Charlie, holding your knife against his neck.

“You love me Charlie, don’t you?” you asked him.

Charlie’s eyes widened. He barely even knew you. How could he love you? But considering you were holding a knife to his throat, if he didn’t say what you wanted to hear, it probably wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Yeah, yeah of course I do.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and pressed the knife against him even harder.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it? I seem to be doing all the work here. Meanwhile, you were flirting with Kirby and dating Jill. That doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

Charlie gulped and tried not to think about the knife that was getting dangerously close to killing him.

“I was just too scared. I- I thought you were too good for me. I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same, and I didn’t want to waste my whole life being in love with someone who didn’t love me back. I was just using Jill and Kirby to try and get over you, I never cared about them. And it didn’t work anyways, I could never stop loving you.”

“Aww, Charlie, that's so sweet! Now, is there anyone else in this house who isn’t dead?”

“Uhm, Trevor’s tied up in the closet. That’s it.”

You smiled at Charlie, and leaned in to kiss him. He froze at first, not sure of what to do, before he started to kiss you back. Once you broke away for air you backed up and removed the knife from Charlie’s throat.

“Go kill Trevor, and once you’re done come back here. We have a lot of staging to do.”

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Four | Noticed

Chapter Four | Noticed

Hook. Lamp. Line. Pin. Bag.

Everything was on her hip or on her back, and she was ready for one of her more daring borrowing trips. What made it daring was that the things she needed were under the bed of one of the boys who lived in the apartment, and it was something that might be missed.

What Ashlynn was looking for was cloth and stuffing for a proper bed. She’d been accustomed to sleeping on the ground or against any and all weird and hard surfaces, and only once for a very brief time did she have a bed. She loved it. The warmth spreading through the covers with no downward draft chilling her to the bone. Something soft to replenish rest after a hard day’s work. There was nothing like coming back from a borrowing trip and flopping down onto a thick cushion and curling under a nice thick blanket.

If this place was going to be a long-term solution, at least for the coming months, Ashlynn needed to allow herself to have some of the nicer things - and that included a bed.

So, she waited patiently by the ceiling lamp and listened to the family of three as they talked about their days and ate dinner. Ashlynn promised she’d borrow some of their leftovers if the borrowing trip went well and if she had the time. The smell alone was tantalizing and made her mouth water. She wasn’t sure what it was, but Ashlynn wanted to taste it. If it was Soren cooking, there was no doubt it was going to be delicious. Until then, she quietly nibbled on a corner of toast and part of a dried sausage she’d nicked from breakfast while listening.

The three finished dinner and separated to complete their various activities while they took turns showering before the three of them finally settled down and turned out the lights. She stood and stretched, placing her hands against her back and leaning back and twisting from side to side as her back cracked dully, before walking back to her area and beginning the countdown to when she’d set her plan into action.

It was a simple process. She’d done it a million times before for every borrowing mission she’d ever been on.

Lights out. Wait. Check sleeping boys from a distance. Dart to borrowing. Borrow it. Get back to the walls. No hip lamp outside the wall. No sudden movements. Don’t deviate from the original borrowing on a high-risk job. Always have a backup plan. Don’t let the little buggars see you.

What could go wrong?

It was an old hat, and Ashlynn knew it well.

Still, it didn’t stop the jitters making her hand twitch ever so slightly as it rested on the edge of her hook. She knew it was probably inaudible, but every step felt heavy and loud. Every scrape or crunch of even her lightest borrowing shoes felt like scratching sandpaper with a rusty nail as she moved through the walls. The little pieces of drywall and dust that littered the ground cast long shadows and threatened to create an avalanche of sound that would lead to her discovery by the humans.

Being a Borrower, thankfully, had its privileges and let her move about silently with ease.

Still, she couldn’t help but imagine the worst case scenario.

Ashlynn maneuvered past the walls, pipes, and wires until she reached the edge of the wall that was part of the boys’ bedroom. The chasm of darkness yawned before her, but this was the easy part. She secured the line she’d borrowed from some twine she found in the garage and climbed carefully along the prickly material. It made her hands raw, even through her well earned callouses, but Borrowers can’t be choosers and she needed the line more than the comfort of a decent line.

Even fishing wire would be better than this. Ashlynn thought as she carefully descended the line. She winced as the rough material poked her again. The Borrower woman finally made it to the bottom of the line and shined her light on her raw hands and immediately noticed that “little” poke she’d received before was bleeding now.

Curses! Always something. Ashlynn grabbed a piece of tissue she kept in her side pocket and pressed it against the wound. It didn’t bleed for long, but there was a very obvious slit along the side of her worn hands that would undoubtedly make a scab later.

Ashlynn continued along the base of the wall until she found the electrical outlet she planned on using. Checking the scratch and seeing it was fine, she pocketed the tissue fragment and extinguished the lamp on her hip before fidgeting with the screw that she’d loosened a few days prior. Like a hot knife through butter, Ashlynn slid the screw out seamlessly and noiselessly pressed against the electrical cover. It opened without issue and, just like that, Ashlynn was out in the human world.

She crouched in the darkness by the leg of something called a “dress-her,” which she thought was weird since she was in the room of two rambunctious boys, and surveyed the room. Her ears, keenly attuned to the ambient sounds of silence and any out-of-the-ordinary noises, picked up every breath and creak in the room.

One breath.

Then another.

Then another.

A stir.

Then the pattern continued.

Ashlynn dared to smile to herself as she inched forward and listened again. The same things presented themselves through the darkness. Overall, she felt safe and confident. All the more reason for her to be cautious.

With silent steps, Ashlynn crouched and made her way along the wall, darting between the furniture pieces and sliding between them and the floor to make friends with lost socks and dust bunnies until, finally, she made it to the far corner of the room by the youngest’s bed. There is where she had initially glimpsed her quarry, and that is where it still was.

A children’s stuffed animal covered in patches and filled with illustriously soft fluff had been shoved back behind one of the legs and had obviously been there for a long time based on the dust bunnies that were keeping it company. Ashlynn suspected the young boys weren’t the types to play with stuffed animals anymore, based on the fact that there were countless gizmos and gadgets all around, and that a little bit of fluff and a bit of the cloth patch.

Ashlynn continued to stay low to the ground as she darted from the bedside table to the place under the bed where she found the stuffed creature. To her, the thing was enormous, standing at nearly three times her height. There was a moment where Ashlynn imagined the boy waking and snatching the toy and her up into his arms, crushing them both to his chest. It made her shudder.

Still, she was here for a reason and intended to see it through.

Removing her razor blade dagger and creeping forward, she began cutting away at the fabric piece being held onto by no more than a few threads. It was quick work, but time moved oddly while borrowing. A moment could feel like an hour and an hour could pass by in a flash. Now was one of those times.

Every thread felt like Ashlynn was hacking down a small tree, taking a painstaking amount of time while, in all reality, the fibers snapped in a matter of seconds. The real trick was getting the fabric to roll up nicely, and that took even more time. Ashlynn laid out the misshapen rectangular piece she’d removed from the cloth creature and began rolling and folding. Like her old sleeping bag, she continuously had to readjust the sides to make sure it was balanced.

Wrestling it into her pack, however, was the hardest part of the whole endeavor. She wiggled it one way, and then the other. For a moment, she was afraid she’d taken too much and that it would be noticed, but there was no going back now. It was going to be more suspicious anyway if only part of the cloth had been taken or left behind.

It took a little more time than anticipated, but Ashlynn finally managed to get the cloth into her pack. Wrestling it from side to side, it now bulged out of her backpack which was barely being held together at the seams.

Now for the fluff.

The Borrower woman made quick work of the fluff, managing to fill and puff out the material that was already there to make her borrowing less obvious. Everything was going smoothly until, out of nowhere, she heard the bed creak and crack above her. Instantly, her heart was in her throat and she dropped to the ground, abandoning her bag and rolling behind the nearest bed leg to hide.

Moments later, two immense legs of the youngest boy, Rey, swung off of the bed and padded out of the room. The way he shuffled and bounced followed by him darting to the right toward the bathroom made Ashlynn a little less uneasy since this was something out of the normal pattern. Still, she couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet.

Ultimately, she had two options.

One, make a mad dash back for the wall before the boy got back and abandon her pack for the next night in the hopes the boy wouldn’t notice it.

Two, wait until the boy fell asleep again and then creep back.

Either way, Ashlynn had to make a choice – and soon.

It was a crazy big risk, but Ashlynn knew it was better to wait than to make any rash decisions. Her impulse was to run, but she’d known many good Borrowers make that mistake before and then be seen or have to leave because they thought they were seen.

So, she waited. She listened to the massive human child cough. She heard the flush of the water and the hiss of the faucet. Then, finally, she watched as his immense feet padded across the floor before launching him to that impossible height onto the top of his bed. The springs above her shifted and cracked, making her flinch and draw in on herself. The earth shattering sound made her believe the bed could split and collapse at any point.

Still, she stayed hidden.

To pass the time, Ashlynn began counting over and over until, after a while, she heard the soft breathing of a sleeping human once more. With precision, she pushed herself to her feet and hoisted her bags onto her back and onto her side. She tiptoed to the edge of the bed and waited just a few more seconds before darting back under the bedside table.

The adventure was almost over. Ashlynn was mere feet away from her final goal of the “dress-her” and the electrical cover leading back to her home when she heard something that made her blood run cold. The nearby bed of the older boy, Dorian, shifted, which was her worst nightmare seeing that the bed literally towered over her.

It was an absolute nightmare, and this time Ashlynn let her instincts kick into high gear.

As fast as possible, she darted across the floor and practically dove under the bed, except the dive didn’t happen. Ashlynn was suddenly yanked back and thrown onto her bum. She sucked in a panicked breath and glanced over her shoulder, terrified at what she might find.

It was an astounding relief that it was only a toy that had snagged the side of her bag in her haste to run under the bed. She gave it a quick tug and continued running for her safe spot which was only a foot away now. She’d just made it back under the “dress-her” when she heard the creaking of the bed again and the older of the two boys slipped out from under his covers and also padded off to the bathroom.

Ashlynn hated the sigh of relief that escaped her body, but she was eternally grateful that she’d managed to make it through her venture without detection.

The journey back into the walls was thankfully uneventful and slipping into the safety of her own home was a welcome sight. Even climbing the twine wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be, even though she’d sliced her hand twice more on the way up.

In her mind, it was a small price to pay for her safety.

She wrapped her hands with some fresh cloth and decided she’d construct her bed the next day. One more night on the floor on her makeshift cot wouldn’t hurt.

It was her only mistake.

If she’d removed the cloth and the fluff she’d borrowed, she would have seen the torn side in her pack which held the small cloth fragment she’d used to staunch the blood from her previous cut. She would’ve wondered where it was and, maybe, dared to go back to collect it.

Instead, it hung there in the clutches of the toy that had snagged her – in the boys’ room.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[kick-a-long]

If you expect a vast ethnic cleansing in western countries that will make the racial ideology of the 1940s look kind, and you're a zionist, why don't you live in Israel already?

well first, I think that the group that will probably be targeted in whatever kind of expulsion or deportation are muslims. It's insane to me that the left doesn't see that. it's insane to me how short sighted they are when there are FAR more islamists posting videos in their own words about what they believe, ex-muslims speaking about shitty practices, muslim countries with fully horrific laws when viewed from western values, and a growing population of right wing voters who are already upset with politics generally and leftists specifically. normal, chill, awesome, muslim populations in Europe are going to pay the bill for the check that leftists are writing by aligning themselves (and thus moderate muslims) with islamist groups and countries. leftists are tethering the image of terrorists to muslims better than post 9/11 govs were able to. it's stretching a rubber band that will snap back.

second, I'm something like 7 generations American jew. I am a left leaning, history knowing, unapologetic, pragmatist interested in fixing what's broken not throwing the most long running democracy in history away over infighting, patriotic American. I love this hot mess of a place and while I don't think America is EXCEPTIONAL by it's nature, I think America has things running here as well or better than any other country on the map in terms of both stability and inalienable rights at the moment and historically. To me it's the only game in town even if it's a shitty game in the last 20 years.

literally the only thing that would make me leave is if the government stopped being democratic. Just because America is imperfect and fuck-y and racist sometimes doesn't mean it's not one of the best, most stable, places to live in the world for any type of minority. you can see it in the court system where antisemitism in colleges and work places has been prosecuted civilly and will continue to be. It is never going to be legal to fuck with jews for being jews or muslims for being muslims. that said, jews are very ingrained into America both culturally and ideologically while muslims are very separated from it. jews aren't the "other" muslims are. most jews aren't recent or even second gen citizens, while many many muslims, including rich well educated (which is primarily where our muslim community comes from) aren't. it's a grand tradition in america to fuck with recent immigrants, look how many hispanics support deporting immigrants.

While I worry for what happens to Jews after Muslims get targeted, I'm only leaving if the gov collapses and religion stops being protected.

Europe on the other hand is pretty fucking close to believing that muslims are taking over and will replace their courts with sharia law and like... idk, legalizing honor killings and outlawing free speech or some shit. most muslims in europe are refugee status, or "low value" immigrants, and they are a pretty huge minority there, compared to America where there are very few. Europe doesn't have a kind history to ethnic groups generally. they can't even handle jews, people who they share far more religious and physical similarities with and who stay out of controlling other people's shit as a rule. jews in fight about controlling our own shit.

third, I support Israel because it's doing the right thing and is the most equal state in the arab world to live, as a woman, arab, muslim, jew, druze, you name it.

It's not my backup plan.

I want Israel to be ok because Israel, by it's people, ideology, location and even in its flawed gov, IS EXCEPTIONAL. By pretty much any measure, Israel shouldn't exist on paper. Israelis have done what should be impossible by their own bridge building, smarts and hard work. I'm lucky to be jewish so I was in a good position to actually listen and learn about the history and current state of the region rather than join the pro terrorists marching through college campuses and times square.

sorry for the rant.

I believe shit globally (america +europe +everyone else vs. russia +china +iran +north korea) is about to pop off, especially with trump in office, and I don't see Europe or America allying with iran, despite their anti-israel posturing. great if it doesn't, but in the meantime it's important to spread the word that islamists are dog shit and muslims are not.

[hopefilledcat]

Another Dipper edit for ATOY AU!

Anddd:

ATOY AU FULL STORY BELOW THE CUT!!!!

Dipper'a condition has been worsening over time. Stan is dismissing his dangerous and uncharacteristic behavior as puberty, while Dipper is constantly fighting himself to stay in his own head. He doesn't know what's happening to him— but he knows it's because of Bill. He decided to call this experience a parasite of some kind, as it was slowly beginning to take over.

With the power of support from his sister, he's able to start pushing past all of the loud thoughts in his head. When Ford arrives and he eventually confides in him for advice, he learns where all of this has been coming from, and how to effectively manage it. The man got a plate in his head to protect himself, though that probably wasn't necessary for Dipper. He mostly regains control of his mind with Ford's help, and life feels manageable again.

That is... until Weirdmageddon. With Bill's mere presence, resistance against the parasite becomes 10 times harder. He's having a lot of trouble keeping his head, especially without Mabel, and Bill knows it. Regardless, he manages to go and save Mabel with Ford, Wendy, and Soos before doing anything. It was hard to get through for Dipper. He was slowly but surely losing it, but Ford knew better than to give into temptation and helped everyone out.

Ford tells Dipper and Mabel about the zodiac circle after she's released. They make a plan to try and round everyone up as a backup if Ford's primary plan doesn't work, which is the quantum destabilizer. The girl goes off to the Mystery Shack to try and find everyone that may he eligible for the ritual, and Ford runs off to the church to get a good shot at Bill. Dipper follows him in case he fails and needs to pass the journals off to someone.

As expected, Ford misses. Dipper instinctively runs after him. The demon turns his attention to his worsened state and takes advantage of it, making the boy fully give into his urges so Ford was more pressured to join later on. Besides, having his kin on Bill's side was like extra salt in the wound! Fun!

Ford is taken to the Fearamid where Bill and the Henchmaniacs + Dipper have a party. Bill soon realizes there's a barrier around the town, which puts a huge wrench into his plans. Meanwhile, Mabel and everyone taking refuge at the Mystery Shack create a plan to attack Bill. Fiddleford transforms the shack into a mecha and all the residents take their places in the machinery. With that, they were off, and the battle began.

During the fight, Mabel and Stan snuck into the Fearamid to try and rescue Dipper and Ford. He ends up finding them first, and uses the two against Ford. Dipper (now with powers similar to Bill,) is aware that Ford has the equation, so by restraining and putting his family in pain, he has little choice. But Ford continues to refuse, and instead pulls out a small light with a blinding brightness. It strobes, and Dipper is stunned, temporarily snapping out of the Bill-influenced state he was in.

He apologizes and releases his other family members, breaking down crying for being so weak. The three of them give Dipper their support, and he cheers up. After that, he uses his newfound abilities to bring them down to the main level, only to see that Bill had just finished defeating the mecha-shack.

He turns around, furious that things still aren't going his way. He grabs Dipper and tries to force him back into submission, but he now has his family to back him up. They tell him to fight Bill so they have enough time for another plan. Ford, Mabel, and Stan leave to recover everyone from the now disheveled Mystery Shack while Dipper has a stand-off with Bill.

At first, he's allowed to use his powers. But the demon realizes that he's very attuned and fluent with those abilities despite not having them for long. That makes them closer to similar ground. So, Bill takes them away and squeezes Dipper in his hand until several of his bones break. He cries out in pain just as everyone was finishing the zodiac circle nearby.

Fiddleford suddenly comes back with another machine, one he had been tinkering with in the background. He lets it run wild, but it only does minor damage to Bill. However, he ends up dropping Dipper. This gives him enough time to reach the ritual site and everyone holds hands. As soon as Bill realizes it's a distraction finds them, the circle is complete, and he can't do anything before he starts glitching and falling apart.

Bill calls out to the Axolotl as he dies like in canon, but everyone assumes that he's gone for good. Dipper and Ford's symptoms seem to disappear for a few months... but it's not the end. They occasionally feel pulls towards triangular items or have their past urges hit them again. The only difference is that it's more subtle and easy to ignore. Ford and Dipper are paranoid about Bill coming back, yet it seems like the only pieces of him left reside in them.

That's the whole story summarized! And here's some additional information:

- the bracelet he has comes from Mabel when she was making bracelets and asked what color he wanted. Dipper blurted out yellow, and having it makes him weirdly happy

- he gets frequent injuries from impulsive and dangerous acts

- Dipper gets a ring of yellow around his eyes when Bill's influence is stronger

- after fully giving up fighting the changes, his eyes turn fully yellow

I'll think of more when I can. For now, enjoy another edit!

- Dipper hallucinates on occasion as a side effect of Bill's "parasite"

- he developed sleeping issues and irritability at night