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aurorasgate · 1 day ago

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I adore sephiroth x readers where he thinks he’s lost the reader like he thinks they’re dead for a sec and then they show up and he’s just all clingy and relieved. Or he has a nightmare that they’re dead in his arms and wakes up and they’re alive. I can’t find a lot of those kinds of Sephiroth fics and I think its absolutely criminal.

sephiroth x gn!reader

warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of blood

ooo anon i adore these types of fics too! i hope i was able to provide and help towards this injustice for these type of fics hehe thank you so much for requesting, i really hope you enjoy it<3

“sephiroth..”

he looks around for the two voices calling his name, each one familiar and bringing about very different and distinct feelings, but there’s nothing around him that he recognizes and neither you nor hojo are anywhere to be seen despite both of you sounding so close. something that puts sephiroth on edge as is, never wanting the professor to be anywhere near you if he could help it.

surrounding him lies only walls of dark petrified ice that keeps the world in a frozen stasis, the deepest glacier blues sparkling with the same mako of his eyes. the cold doesn’t bite at his skin but he knows it’s there by the clouds his shallow breaths make. masamune feels light, ready, in his left hand, awaiting her wielder's command. above him is what looks like a starless night sky and is seemingly just as endless in its depth but it feels as though as encased with no way out.

utterly alone he stands in the middle of it all, searching for who he loves and who he loathes.

“sephiroth!”

it’s only you he hears this time and at the sound of your distraught voice crying out for him in a way he’s never heard from you before, full of pain and pleading, he’s quickly on his feet to turn in the direction it came from only to be met with a sight specially crafted for his nightmares and that his own hands would make worse still.

with tears rolling down your cheeks and blood dripping from a cut on your cheek, you’re on your knees an arms length away from him, struggling through every breath, but not taking your gaze off of him. the way you draw your brows together and the deep frown to your lips might have made anyone think you were angry, and perhaps you are, but the anguish behind your eyes is undeniable. deep enough he feels it in his own chest.

“you have to stop this! please! ” you beg of him, your beautiful eyes trembling with more tears than before.

he wants to sooth you, take you into his arms and promise you that everything is okay, that you’re safe when he’s here to protect you, but he can’t move. it's as though his body isn’t his own, every command he tries to give it to bring him closer to you or say anything unwilling to obey.

sephiroth can only watch as crystalline tears freeze upon touching the icy ground at your knees and when droplets of your blood join them, his head starts to hurt, an aching pressure behind his eyes that he’s felt many times before and conjures images of raging flames and a pool of blood he knows is yours.

when he’s able to open his eyes again, there’s a split second of relief that he feels when he sees you still in front of him before it’s replaced with an emotion he couldn’t put a single name to. he only knows that his very soul is being ripped in two and set a blaze at the sight of blood dripping from your mouth and masamune sinking into your chest, his bare hands driving the blade deeper into you. your pleas quickly turning into a cry of pain that rings in his ears, unrelenting and heart breaking. through masamunes hilt he can feel the way it breaks through your bones and cuts the soft petaled flesh he’s kissed countless times. deeper his blade goes, effectively skewering through you all while his muscles scream out in agony as they’re pulled each way in his attempt to stop himself.

he has to stop - he can’t - he won’t - but inevitably it means nothing.

you’re so close he can taste the metaliciness of your blood in the air, can feel your fleeting warmth kissing his chilled skin and the weight of your body growing heavier on his sword. sephiroth can only stare helplessly at the way you bleed and grasp onto your life. behind him, echoing along the icy crystals, is hojos amused laugh. the same one he often used watching sephiroth hurt just as the professor had warned him he would if he didn’t his warnings.

“i told you,” hojo says, his prideful smile painted in his words telling of just how much he’s enjoying being right. “there was never any chance of saving them from you.”

hojo says more but sephiroth can’t hear him through the rapid drumming of his heartbeat in his ears as your trembling hand reaches out for him, your other being used as leverage to help bring you further down masamunes long blade, closer to him.

at the touch of your fingers grazing along his cheek, covered in blood and losing heat so quickly, whatever had hold over his body gives enough way that he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of in order to reach for you in return but as soon as his hand is on your arm, trying to pull you into him, the aching in his head surges tenfold.

without letting go of you, his vision blurs, the entire world vibrates violently, but rather than seeing any of the mirage of images he had before, it’s only you that distorts between how you had looked mere moments ago to your skin turning different shades of splotched gray and deep purple veins spread everywhere; your head hung lower as you fight for life viruses the tender expression that’s worn by your visage but isn’t truly yours. not like he knows it to be.

each shot of pressure behind his eyes makes you blur back and forth but your words ring clear and soft, kinder than he ever deserved and with all the love you hold for him. “it’s okay seph. as long as you’ll get to be with j -”

the touch of your forehead to his chest feels more like the entire planet of gaia is crashing into his rib cage and makes him take in an unsteady gasp for air that burns his lungs as though it was his first breath ever -

sephiroth is forced awake, the discomfort in his chest mirroring how it was in what he knows was a nightmare. he’s had so many before, for as long as he can remember, but it had not made it easier to swallow the effects they had on him; the way it could blur reality and dreams even after waking.

surely that was why he could still feel the cold of that frozen place and the thickness of blood on his hands despite being half covered by the duvet and the pale skin of his hands looking completely clean as he sits up and stares down at them like they had truly taken the life of the person he cherishes the most. he could still feel it all, down to the way he felt masamune - a very extension of himself - cutting through you without mercy and the ringing in his ears that mingled with your resounding sobs.

everything only seems to grow worse when, like a child afraid to wake their mother in the middle of the night, he wordlessly reaches out for you and is met with a cold, empty, place where your body should have been curled up next to him. and when sephiroth sees he is utterly alone, the world seems to move painfully slow. gravity growing heavier and making it more difficult to shift onto his knees and for his hands to clutch at the sheets on your side of the bed as if searching for an ounce of your warmth, any reminder of your presence, within the threads.

but there's nothing. no warmth, no comfort, no you and the longer he tries to find you there, the more it feels as though the entire planet is devoid of your love and light. all because of him and before he knows it, he’s dragged further into darkness.

his hands are shaking, his breathing painfully ragged and his chest aching with a crushing pressure. he’s endured much discomfort before but nothing like this. nothing like the agony of being without you after finally letting himself have you. not after swearing to protect you with his very life.

silver strands of hair stick to his sweat beaded skin and catch in his blurry vision with every heavy blink of his eyes that sephiroth swears are deceiving him. they must be when he can feel your blood on him despite not being able to see it. it’s there, he knows it is, staining his soul, flooding his lungs, sitting heavy on his heart. ready to break him.

he finds comfort in the sweet cruelness of his own mind when it betrays him further and makes him see your hands reaching for him in the dark. he expects them to go right through him before they’re gone once more, nothing more than a ghost of a touch he hadn’t deserved in the first place, that his own hands had snuffed out, but no - he feels the warmth of your fingers, the unreal softness of your skin, that travel down his palms, the benevolence of your touch that always seemed accompany the way you handled him, washing away the sticky feeling of blood he thought might never leave, and sees them wrap around his wrists as if to tether him to this world. to you.

“sephiroth..”

it’s not the only time you’ve called out to him since reentering the bedroom and finding him on his knees, hunched over, the broad expanse of his back rising and falling with quick, uneven, breaths and clinging to the sheets on your side of the bed like they were a life line but with the way he looks up at you now, mako eyes seemingly glowing in the dark, pulsing with a mix of torment and realization, you think he’s finally heard your voice.

“love, what’s wr-” you don’t get the chance to finish before his arms are around you and you’re being pulled onto the bed, into his embrace, in a dizzying display of his strength and gentleness. but it’s easy to find your bearings when you’re quickly pressed flushed to his chest and your legs settle on either side of his like this is exactly where you belonged.

he’s burning up, hotter than he normally runs, barely breathing and trembling all over. the parts of his skin that touch your own damp with cold sweat but you don’t let it stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck, maneuvering under his hair, and pulling him as close to you as possible.

sephiroth whispers your name, broken and wavering and followed by his arms around you growing tighter, nearly crushing but it doesn’t hurt and you only encourage it more when you return it in kind, bringing one of your hands to hold the back of his head and keep him pressed, hidden from the world, in the crook of your neck.

“i’m here,” you promise and wonder if perhaps it’s exactly what he needed to hear when his hands bunch up the fabric of your shirt - one of his old training shirts you’ve confiscated as your own.

the thundering of his heartbeat can be felt throughout your whole body and you hold him like he’s something precious. as gentle as thin glass and as close to your heart as a cherished locket. your voice is a mirror of your emotions and meant to sooth him, remind him that he’s as safe in your arms as you are in his. “it’s okay seph. i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t speak or say anything but he doesn’t need to. you know by the way he holds you like you may slip through his grasp, like maybe this isn’t real, that he’s had a nightmare. one of so many you’ve been around to see him have, but this is also different than anytime before. he must have seen something truly horrible and it breaks your heart, brings unshed tears to your eyes.

your body had picked the wrong night to be so restless. you thought you were doing him a favor by slipping out of bed and waiting for tiredness to wash over you in the living room before returning to where you normally slept curled against him. he’d fallen asleep so quickly, needed the rest, and the last thing you wanted was to disrupt that but you’d have stayed if you knew what was going on behind his closed eyes.

he’d be vehemently against it, you know he would, but you’d have happily taken all of his bad dreams and dreamt them yourself if you could.

wordlessly you hold each other for an amount of time you don’t care to count. you’d stay here till the sun rose and fell again so long as he needed it. as time ticks by, slowly but surely, his heartbeat steadies, falls in line with your own, and each deep breath he takes that’s so full of you helps to relax the muscles of his body. your fingers run through his silken hair, careful in the way they untangle little knots that are proof of his fitful sleep and provide a comfort he isn’t sure he deserves. sephiroth has never been sure he’s deserved you but that would never make him let you go. especially tonight when his mind continues to echo hojos words, ‘there was never any chance of saving them from you.’

despite the calmness that has washed over him in lulling waves, his hold is unrelenting, unwilling to let you go, a silent vow that he’d never let anything happen to you. nothing and no one, not even himself, could harm you. he’d use every single ounce of his power and strength to ensure that. anything could happen to him so long as you were safe.

you’d never be as strong as he is, never know the other worldly power he holds and is forced to use for the sake of those who use him, but that would never stop you from feeling and doing everything to keep him safe too. many times it has made you wish you were stronger but at times so little do you understand that all you do for him, the way you protect him, has nothing to do with strength. the love and care you have for him, that you show him every day, is more powerful than any physical prowess. and right now, as you continue to hold him, love him, he thinks it to be more true than ever.

when he finally moves, neither of you being able to bear letting the other go far, it’s just enough so he can look into your eyes, remind himself that what he saw in his dreams was truly only a dream.

just a dream. he repeats to himself as he stares at you and brings a hand up to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. as you lean into his palm, the smile you give him is both calming and radiant and proof that there’s no trace of how you were in his nightmare. no blood, no tears, no pain, no discolor of greys and purple to your skin. you’re beautiful. very much alive. his.

“everything’s okay,” you whisper, as if you could read on his face what was running through his mind. “what you saw in your dream wasn’t real, i promise.”

“you’re okay,” he says aloud, reassuring himself, his vocal cords crackling with the remnants of being unable to speak or have control over his body, even in his dream.

“i’m okay,” you echo without missing a beat, not needing him to elaborate. “safe and sound with you.” the last of his discomfort vanishes at the weight of your forehead on his, a distance you close, and the way you rub the nip of your noses together. “just like you’re safe and sound with me, my love.”

with a sigh of relief that you feel the heat of on your mouth, his fingers tangle into your hair and pull you closer till your lips meet in a long, soft kiss that seals your promise into his heart and soul.

i know i already wrote a nightmare fic for him but idgaf. poor baby has too many nightmares

#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader

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hotties4gojo · 5 hours ago

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how would the yakuza au characters react to user getting hurt :3

IS THIS 🦊 ANON COS THIS WAS SENT BEFORE I TALKED ABOUT EMOJI ASSIGNMENTS… hi if it’s u 😁 but also hi regardless TEHE

I’m assuming u mean Someone harming us right… I’ll roll with that

• oyabun gojo is unfortunately a little toooo used to having to hurt/kill those that have wronged you (secretary!reader), but when you get hurt? whoever put their hands on you is getting their hands chopped off. then their feet. and then and then and then—

he will 100% crash out. nuclear level. you and nanami and choso have to hold him back from killing entire bloodlines for your sake… and then he gets you to a doctor if needed. still, though, nobody can hold back gojo fucking satoru for long. this isn’t simple dirty work so he doesn’t send anyone out to take care of the issue; he personally handles it and comes back with a borderline manic smile and blood staining his pristine white hair. “honeyyyy, I’m home! what’s for dinner?”

even when You give yourself accidental paper cuts gojo’s acting like it’s the end of the world. he falls to his knees and everything

• informant shoko is dead silent when you (stripper!reader) show her bruises from some yakuza scum that got a little too drunk and a little too handsy. her eye is twitching and her mole twists with it. “evade my questions all you want and make excuses for them, but best believe I’m finding out who did this, princess,” she murmurs as she gets you an ice pack.

shoko gives you personal self-defense lessons because you never know when something worse could happen to you. on a day that you’re busy, she seeks out gojo and choso with the intel she’s gathered on some sleazy man and gives them the file she collected. “say less,” both men mutter, already plotting.

but if you simply injured yourself while taking a fall or from standing and dancing in heels for too long, shoko sighs as she forces you to sit down. “silly girl. i’m gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap,” she teases as she makes you rest while she plays caretaker, babying you more than she should.

• wakagashira-hosa choso has the biggest frown on his face when he spots injuries on your (teacher!reader) precious body. “who? where? why? tell me everything, darling. don’t leave anything out.” he and gojo pay off the police to scour security footage to find the fucker who dared to mug you or target you for simply being close to choso because he has wayyyy too many enemies that would do anything to get at him.

he makes sure you’re patched up and safe at his apartment with yuuji before he goes out on the hunt, hands steadier than they’ve ever been as he gives hell to the fucker in question. choso comes back with dried blood flaking off of his hands and even more blending in with the dark fabric of his suit, waves off your concerns, and showers before sitting with you and yuuji on the couch. choso angsts over the fact that you got hurt for days longer than he should.

• oyabun geto’s mind is ten steps ahead the second he finds out you (angels!reader & yuki’s younger sibling) got fucked up in some garuda’s angels related scuffle. you can of course handle yourself (he’s literally played witness to you beating the breaks off of people) and don’t need his help… but he’s still gonna intervene. if he had a little less restraint, he’d probably burn down the entire city.

you’re used to his protectiveness and you have no plans on stopping him from going on a mini warpath so you either stay home or accompany him. people hate to see THIS couple coming. especially when geto is smiling as if he’s not about to break their ribs and you’re a few steps behind, whistling the whole while and spinning your weapon of choice. both of you have fun with your prey before letting heads roll.

other times you’re scraped up from a motorcycle accident and geto tsks as he treats your wounds. “and you wonder why I refuse to get on that motorcycle of yours with you,” he’s muttering, shaking his head when you laugh it off. what is he gonna do with you?

• oyabun sukuna finds out about the incident before you (civilian!reader) even get the chance to tell him yourself. his nostrils flare like a bull’s as he corners you, demanding that you corroborate what he heard and tell him any extra information, and frowns when you’re like ‘it’s not a big deal, I thought it was funny that they’d even try to target me.’ “nobody is fucking laughing except for you,” sukuna grouches. “there’s something so fucking wrong with you. anyways, I’ll handle it. sit tight.”

he has way too many enemies so people from the gojo-gumi, the sutoraifu-gumi, and even the garuda’s angels trying to kill you is practically a weekly occurrence. as much as he’d like to dump you into one of his warehouses and keep you safe there forever, whooping ass on your behalf is good enough. no weapons, no underlings doing the work for him— sukuna snaps necks or beats whoever that hurt you to death.

• garuda’s angels leader yuki has toji on the line the second you (orphanageworker!reader) finish speaking. “tojiiii, i need you to track some people down for me. I’ll have utahime come babysit megumi for you,” she sings into the phone, all cheery even though her eyes are colder than ice. bodies are about to stop dropping like flies. not that she tells you this.

if she goes out to handle it herself, you catch on as she’s sliding on her jacket and putting on her boots and you scold her, telling her that people don’t deserve to be hurt on your behalf. she strongly disagrees, but she’ll sigh softly and pull you into her arms. “you’re too merciful, angel,” yuki murmurs as she steers you to bed. watching movies with you will be enough to distract you from considering the fact that toji could be out there guns blazing in yuki’s stead, right?

#aisha’s answers #yakuza jjk au #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #yuki x reader #yuki tsukumo x reader #gojo x reader

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tiredandoptimistic · 1 day ago

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My take on Buffy's arc in each of the seasons (and how the villains highlight her personal journey)

Because I wake up every morning and think about Buffy Summers

Season one: Buffy starts out the show determined to deny her role as a Slayer and willing to skip a prophecy for a date. Even though she genuinely does want to help people, she's also resolved to make time for herself and her teenage whimsy. While the Master is technically the villain of the season, the real threat is the prophecy she hears in the finale: that she will die facing him. Buffy's desire for a normal life is put into direct conflict with her duty as a Slayer, and it's the bonds she built with other students like Willow that makes her realize that she cares more about being a protector than being happy.

Season two: this season systematically strips away everything Buffy had prioritized in season one. She loses her boyfriend, alienates her friends, gets expelled from high school, and kicked out by her mom. While at first she hadn't been able to make herself kill Angel, she had to come to terms with the fact that her moment of mercy led to Jenny's death. All the things necessary for a normal life are lost to her, and she can't afford to care about any of it. Her ability to go to school, her relationship with her mom, the love she has for Angel; none of it matters if the world is at stake. By the end of the season, Buffy proves her self-reliance and that she's willing to make the tough calls and kill somebody she loves if it's part of her Slayer duty.

Season three: at the start of this season, Buffy deals with the fallout of her season two arc by falling into a depression due to her isolation. Complete self-reliance is good in a fight to the death, but deeply unhealthy long-term. Buffy is a Slayer who draws strength from the love of her friends, and in season three she tries to rebuild that trust by throwing herself into all the traditional end of high school festivities. The Mayor represents the adult world they're meant to be graduating into, and he proves that there's something deeply rotten underneath the glossy suburban shell of Sunnydale. Despite the fact that the institutions of the school and the town range from apathetic to malevolent, Buffy is still able to form emotional bonds with the people she meets there. It's the power of her connection with all the other students of Sunnydale High that eventually saves the day, and even if she couldn't win Homecoming Queen she's still their Class Protector.

Season four: this is where we get into that weird phase of young adulthood where nobody has any idea what the fuck they're doing. Buffy is removed from the familiar and forced to find her way in a new environment, and she uses her newfound freedom to make some bad decisions. She and her closest friends drift apart as they all get wrapped up in their different post high school adventures, and without that safety net Buffy ends up placing her trust in the wrong people. The Initiative uses its appearance of security to manipulate young adults into throwing away their independence serving something solid. Adam is the result of this, as a young creature who's confused about his place in the world and gets sick of letting the Initiative decide his purpose for him. The thing that saves Buffy from this whole mess is to reaffirm her bond with her oldest friends, proving that growing up doesn't need to mean growing apart. The support system was always there, they just all needed to actively maintain it.

Season five: the linchpin of this season is Buffy's relationship with Dawn, as the magic weirdness of Sunnydale starts messing with the most intimate parts of her personal life. She's officially not able to keep her two world separate anymore, and has to decide whether or not she'll trust the love she has for her sister once she knows it was all planted by an outside force. Of course she chooses to stand by Dawn, and the two of them support each other through their mom's illness and death. At first Dawn's role as the key makes things very simple, since saving the day lines up perfectly with Buffy's preexisting priority (protect Dawn), but by the end she's put in a situation where she once again has to choose between the world and the person she loves most. Glory is effective as a villain because she's laser focused on hurting people Buffy loves, and is too damn strong for Buffy to actually fulfill her calling as a protector. In the end, the only way for Buffy to keep the people she loves safe is for her to sacrifice her own life for theirs (something she's been doing every day since she was fifteen).

Season six: while season five ends off with Buffy choosing to die for her friends, season six forces her to live for them. She's ripped from heaven and tossed into all the shittiest aspects of the real world, and worse than anything she's completely disconnected from herself and her friends. The main conflict here is her depression, and the contrast between the comfort she gets from Spike and the support she can't accept from her friends. Spike tells her that it's okay to not be okay, but this turns into him actively trying to keep her miserable because he thinks it's the only way she'll be with him. Meanwhile, Dawn and Giles and the rest are trying to help her support herself, which isn't exactly warm and fuzzy. When Willow becomes her dark self at the end, she basically speedruns Buffy's whole arc. She flays Warren alive for some instant gratification that hurts her in the long run, then she decides that the only way to end all suffering is to end all life, and she's eventually talked down by Xander's boundless love and support. Buffy has a similar moment at the same time, as she realizes that she wants to live because she wants to see Dawn grow up. This season shows that there isn't anything wrong with Buffy for feeling pain, but that the way out isn't to indulge her darkest feelings; it's to embrace the love of her friends and family.

Season seven: at this point, Buffy's biggest struggle is her sense of isolation. After so long as the Slayer, she genuinely doesn't think anyone else can understand her anymore (except maybe Spike, because he too has a fascinating cocktail of issues). Her isolation becomes a danger when she faces The First, a threat far too powerful for her to defeat on her own, and through Willow's magic she is able to finally be supported on all sides by people just as strong as she is. Much like graduation, this season ends with something major being destroyed to symbolize the end of a chapter in Buffy's life. She isn't just out of high school, she's officially free from the bounds of Sunnydale. She doesn't need to stay put and sacrifice her own pleasures again and again and again; there are other people willing to share the burden. Buffy can finally rest.

#buffy summers you are so important to me #i love that season three has buffy realizing that she can't live a normal life #she needs to stay in sunnydale and prioritize her slaying #but it's okay because willow and xander and giles are there prioritizing her as well #they'll give up their futures too if it means staying by her side #and then at the end of season seven buffy realizes that she can actually leave and do whatever the fuck she wants #she had her friends to make sunnydale bearable but now she's got the whole world to explore alongside them #anyways guys i'm really normal about this show #can you tell from these summaries which seasons are my favorites/least favorites?#because i feel like typing all this out actually helped me appreciate some of the plot beats i wasn't as enthusiastic about #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #buffy summers #dawn summers #willow rosenberg #xander harris #angel btvs #spike btvs #rupert giles #my analysis

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undressrehearsal · 3 hours ago

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a bite of luxury

part 2

summary: it's been a week since you and ellie's date. you weren't ignoring her - but you were also too afraid of what she might be. so when she shows up to your apartment, you have pretty mixed feelings

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie, lot of talk about blood, oral(r!receiving), fingering(r! receiving), afab reader, ellie's a bit stalker-y tbh, smallest bit of bloodplay (what do u expect), slightest bit of praise kink, this shit is filthy tbh

word count: ~9k

a/n: listen i'm sorry I work 50 hr weeks and i'm writing a book so it takes me FOREVER to write shit but i hope y'all like this one cause i love it. if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

part 1

You hadn't talked to Ellie in nearly a week.

It wasn’t that you were ignoring her. It was just that any time she texted you you could do nothing but stare at the letters for several minutes hoping they’d make sense before you finally shut your phone off. She had called you once, the day after your date, but you just let it ring in your hand until it finally fell silent, convincing yourself that it was only because you were hungover and didn’t feel like talking to anybody. (She, of course, left you a voicemail telling you how much she enjoyed your date and that Riley wanted to meet you.)

You weren't ignoring her.

You were just avoiding her.

Which was different, right?

That night, when Ellie came back into the sitting room with two glasses of water, she had found you standing by the mantle, looking for all the world like a frightened animal. When you had heard her coming, you had set the frame down as though it had burned you, putting it back into its spot on the mantle, face down. Perhaps it was better like that. If you had to look at the sepia face staring up at you and the very real, unchanged face smiling at you in the warmth of this house, you weren't sure how you'd react.

You weren't sure what your face held, but whatever it was made Ellie's steps slow. She came to a stop several feet away, looking at you warily. “Everything okay?”

You had only nodded and politely asked her to take you home.

She didn’t argue, and you couldn’t decide if you preferred that over the alternative. She opened the car door for you, closing it gently once you were settled. You didn't say much on the drive home - your head was still swimming with wine and confusion and the heat still pooling between your legs. Ellie tried making conversation, asking you about your plans for the week and if you wanted to meet up again sometime, but your heart wasn’t in it; it was a million miles and two-hundred years away. You could only give her one-word replies, running your hands over the expensive leather seats to ground yourself.

She walked you to the door of your apartment complex. You didn’t kiss her, only said goodnight and went inside, leaving her standing out in the cold. Although you weren’t sure if she could actually feel it.

You weren’t sure what she was.

The logical part of your brain tried to convince you that it wasn’t anything, that you had just been drunk and tired and way too turned on to think straight. You tried to tell yourself it hadn’t been Ellie in that picture - that it was an ancestor that looked disturbingly similar - that it was just a stage photo taken to look like it was from the 1800s - that you weren’t crazy. But some part of you - some primal instinct that prickled at your skin and raised the hair on the back of your neck - knew that you were full of shit and wouldn’t let you forget it.

You knew what you saw. It was no trick of the light, no staged photo. Ellie had - impossibly, inexplicably - been at that house in 1816.

You sat in the quiet of your apartment, only the light of the full moon and your laptop’s blue screen illuminating your bedroom. You couldn't even hear the normal traffic that blared from the street all hours of the night. The only thing you could hear - the only sound penetrating this deafening, suffocating silence - was your own heartbeat.

You felt so stupid - crazy, really - but you typed the words anyway: What can live forever?

That wasn't entirely helpful. Google fed you an article about jellyfish - Turritopsis dohrnii, the “immortal jellyfish”. The only creature on Earth that was biologically immortal. You rubbed at your aching eyes - you hadn't been sleeping well - and tried again.

Can humans live forever?

That didn't really help either. Now you got articles about cryogenic freezing and uploading your consciousness into a computer - you were pretty sure the former hadn't even been a thing in the 1800s, and as for the latter, you definitely didn't think Ellie was a computer. A computer couldn’t kiss like that, couldn’t grip your hair and press promises into the hollow of your throat, cold fingers skimming over your skin-

You groaned, pressing your knuckles into your eyes. That kind of train of thought was exactly why it had become increasingly difficult to avoid Ellie. You couldn’t count the number of times in the past few days that your thumb had hovered over her name on your phone, your wired, sleep-deprived heart unable to resist a mystery. But this wasn’t some fucking Agatha Christie novel, and you definitely weren’t the main character. This was real life, and until you knew what Ellie was and what she could do - other than have eternal beauty, apparently - your instinct told you not to trust her.

You felt insanely stupid - illogical and delusional and a million other synonyms - but the cheesy scene in that teenage-brain rot vampire movie came to mind: You’re pale white and ice cold. Maybe it wasn’t the most outlandish idea, when you really thought about it; it was no more outlandish than Ellie being at that house when it was built in 1816. Besides, maybe it added up: Her fingers had felt like ice on your cheek. She never blushed, not even after you had made out - a fact that had left you self-conscious before but would make a lot more sense. You couldn't deny that you had felt a strong, unnatural pull to her. And the metallic smell that seemed to cling to her beneath her perfume….

So, feeling like a cheap impersonator of Kristen Stewart, you typed in vampires.

The page was still buffering, you shitty cheap internet taking its sweet time as always, when there was a sharp knock on your apartment door.

You jumped so hard your laptop slipped from the bed and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. You flinched, hoping it was just a broken screen you could live with. You got up, stepping around the fallen soldier, and left the blissful darkness of your bedroom, flicking the light on in your living room. But when you opened the front door, you wanted nothing more than to slam it shut again.

Ellie stood in the dingy hallway, the worn leather jacket finally making an appearance over her shoulders. Her hair stood at odd ends, as though she had been tugging at it. Yet, even looking haggard in a torn jacket, she looked just as good as she had amongst the stars.

And here you were, standing in your messy apartment in your favorite pajamas, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Somehow, Ellie was the one that looked sheepish; she couldn't quite meet your eyes, scratching the back of her head and fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. Before your survival instincts could convince you to close the door, she said, in the softest voice imaginable, “Hi.”

And you could no longer bring yourself to close the door in her adorable fucking face.

When you didn't respond, Ellie nodded, seemingly to herself, rocking on her heels awkwardly. She spoke to her shoes when she said, “Sorry, I know this is probably really fucking weird.”

“That's an understatement,” you said, surprising yourself with a laugh. You almost felt bad when she flinched.

Frankly, you probably should have closed the door and locked it behind you. You had only gone on one date with Ellie, and she was suddenly showing up to your apartment in the middle of the night. You had practically ghosted her for several days now, and for some reason she had come crawling back to you like a dog. Yeah, it was beyond weird - creepy, almost. And yet….

You pulled the blanket tighter around you to try to hide your pajamas - and oversized t-shirt from some anime you hadn't watched in years and a pair of shorts so short you couldn't possibly wear them anywhere other than your own room. You leaned against the doorframe, trying your damnedest to look nonchalant - to look like your heart wasn't trying to escape your chest - and said, “What are you doing here?”

Ellie shifted, fidgeting, biting her lip so hard it looked like she might draw blood (could she bleed?). “You just…. After our date, you seemed really upset and I've been worried about you.” She spoke in a rush, as though the words were racing to leave her tongue. “I-I don't know if it's something I did, but if it is - I want to make it up to you. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I-” She hesitated, finally looking up at you through her lashes. “And, honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.”

Your heart did some kind of embarrassing acrobatic routine at her words. You tried to keep your voice steady, as though your cheeks weren't obviously burning: “You didn't do anything. I just….”

I saw a picture of you looking just as young and beautiful in 1816 and freaked out and honestly I don't know what you are or if you're dangerous and I'm scared to find out but I also can't deny that I haven't stopped thinking about you either.

Yeah, you couldn't say that.

Instead, you said, like a coward,, “I've just been busy, honestly.”

Tension drained from Ellie, her jaw visibly unclenching, that cute pinch between her brows smoothing. A relieved smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay,” she said, a little too breathlessly. She cleared her throat and tried again: “Okay. That's-That's good. Um….” She looked around, taking in your dim apartment behind you before her eyes landed on you again. She noticed, seemingly for the first time, that you were in your pajamas. An amused - almost fond - smile lit up her eyes. “You look a little busy right now. Do you… I can text you later, maybe? I'd love to go on another date. If you want to.”

You sized her up, taking in the infamous jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. She blended in surprisingly well with your shabby apartment complex - down to the worn out converse. You shouldn't have invited her in. After everything, you'd be stupid to invite her into your apartment. You were just talking about how she might be dangerous, how you couldn't trust her….

So, you didn't invite her inside. You simply said, “I was actually just about to turn on a movie,” and walked away. You left the door open, a silent expectation for her to follow you inside. Without looking back, you said, “Do you want anything to drink?”

When Ellie didn't respond, you turned back to find her still standing right outside the door. Her eyes were wide, looking like a deer watching a car barrel towards it, unable to move. She rocked back on her heels, blowing an awkward breath through pursed lips. “Can I, um- Can I come in?”

You slowly turned to her, setting down the empty cup you had picked up. Taking a cautious step toward her, you said, “What do you mean?”

Ellie laughed that rough, charming laugh, but it rang hollow. It would have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn't already looking for red flags. “I mean, it's rude to come in uninvited. I've never been to your place before, I don't want to - you know, overstep, I guess.”

You squinted at her, alarm bells blaring in your ears. “You're not overstepping anything.”

She pressed her lips together, impatience creeping into her shoulders. “So… Can I come in?”

“Can you?”

Ellie blinked at you. “What?”

You took several steps towards her, stopping just inside the doorway - just where she couldn't reach you. There was some kind of panic behind her eyes, like a child that had been caught red-handed. Setting your shoulders, you repeated, “Can you?”

She stumbled over her words, syllables tripping over her tongue: “I- it's rude to just barge into somebody's home-”

“And I'm telling you it's not rude,” you interrupted. You held a hand out to her, careful to keep your fingers right inside the doorway. “So why can't you come in?”

Ellie looked at your outstretched hand, her eyes wide and desperate. She reached out to you before drawing her hand back sharply, as though she had been burned. A low growl rose from her throat, and she snapped, “I just can't, okay?”

Your eyebrows rose, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You should have been afraid - you were so close to the truth you could taste it - but you couldn't find the fear inside yourself. Instead, there was only the warm touch of relief.

You took another step towards her, still carefully inside the doorway. You were so close you could smell that warm, metallic scent that clung to her. Knowing what it might be, it should have disgusted you; instead, you were buzzing with an overwhelming curiosity. A restlessness burned in your fingertips - inexplicably, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her. You wanted to feel the burn of her cold fingers against you.

“Tell me what you are,” you murmured, unwilling to speak any louder for fear that you would shatter the barrier between you - the barrier protecting you.

“Hopefully more than a first date,” Ellie said, that hollow laugh trying to cut through the tension. When you only looked at her, she faltered, that mask cracking just a little more. Ellie's jaw worked, the muscle flexing. She said, slowly now, as though you were a frightened animal, “I'm just Ellie. I'm here because I missed you. I really want to come in and just watch a movie with you. Can I please come in?” A desperate whine tinted her words, sending an embarrassing flush to your cheeks.

You grit your teeth, lifting your chin stubbornly. “I found that picture. The one of the house - the one dated back to 1816 when it was built. You were there.” If she had any, you imagined the blood would've drained from Ellie's face. “How were you there? How old are you, really? What are you?”

Ellie looked like she wanted to argue - her lips curled back in a snarl, her fists clenched at her sides. You should have been afraid - you should have been terrified - but really you were just craving the truth.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders dropping as all the fight seemed to leave her body at once. She scrubbed a hand across her face and said, “Look, nobody's ever…. Nobody's ever asked me that before. Nobody… nobody cared before. Nobody looked. The people I've met on Seeking only wanted sex and money - that's what I'm good at. But you….” She paused, lips opening and closing hesitantly. “I don't know why, but you're different. You obviously know something isn't normal here. So I'd really, really like to talk.”

You hesitated, crossing your arms. “If I let you in here, how do I know you won't just… try to shut me up.” You couldn't phrase it any other way.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” she said. She brought her hands up, fingers seeming to press at some invisible barrier that separated you. “Besides,” she added with a short, wicked flash of teeth (you had never noticed just how sharp her canines really were), “I'm not particularly worried about you spreading anything. Nobody would actually believe you.”

You swallowed, her words sending a dangerous chill down your spine. She was right, of course. Who would believe somebody who started spreading rumors that some rich woman they met on a dating website was a bloodthirsty monster?

Every ounce of your self-preservation instincts told you to close the door, to ignore the inhuman pull you felt towards her. It screamed at you that this was an awful idea that could only end in heartbreak, that you'd be far safer if you simply never spoke to this woman again. It was the natural instinct of prey.

And yet, like an idiot, you said, “Fine. You can come in.”

With the spell broken, Ellie stepped through the doorway with a relieved sigh. You took a hasty step back to let her through, but it didn't much matter. By coming through, she stepped right into your personal space, so close that you could feel her breath on your cheeks. It brought a rush of memories from the night at her house - you could practically feel the hard bookcase against your back, her lips pressing against your pulse, so shockingly hot compared to the rest of her.

You muttered an apology - unsure just what you were apologizing for - and stepped aside. Gesturing to your living room, you said, “Make yourself comfortable,” before retreating to the kitchen.

Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a retreat. Your apartment was small, no larger than Ellie’s bedroom, probably (you tried very hard to not think about Ellie’s bedroom). The sink was only a few extra steps away from your couch, but the shabby carpet changed abruptly into tile, so it was technically a different room.

When you went to ask her again if she wanted anything to drink, your voice died in your throat. Does she drink? That thought alone caused your brain to short-circuit, some survival instinct forcing you to face reality and change the question to Does she drink water?

You decided not to ask, instead filling up two glasses of water before squaring your shoulders, taking a deep breath, and going back into the living room. It was small, only enough space for a single sofa that had been gifted to you, a coffee table, a TV stand that you had found at a second-hand shop, and a small TV that you bought off of Facebook marketplace. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy. You had set up string lights on the ceiling, and you plugged them in before turning off the blaring big light, casting the room in a warm, hazy glow.

Ellie had taken a seat on the sofa, hands fiddling absently in her lap. You set the glasses down on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away as you physically could. You pulled your legs up so they acted as a barrier between you.

After several long, unbearably silent moments, Ellie blew out a breath, laughing awkwardly. She didn't look at you when she said, “You probably have questions.”

“No shit, I have questions.” It came out sharper than you intended, and you just hoped she couldn't bleed. “My first one being why the hell did you show up to my apartment in the middle of the night?”

Ellie winced; you almost felt bad about it. “To be fair, it's only seven.” When you only scowled at her, she hastily continued, “I told you. I missed you. I… I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you said, unable to prevent your voice from softening. “We only went on one date.”

Ellie shrugged, looking as though she'd be blushing if she could. Her voice was small when she said, “I just… really like you, I guess.”

And you decided to leave it at that.

“What are you?” you asked instead.

She looked at you then, a twinkle in her eye. “I think you know that already.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Ellie held your gaze; you felt as though you were paralyzed, your body frozen under the watchful eyes of a predator. “I have a lot of names. Nosferatu. Hominus Nocturna. Upyr. Leech. Blood breed.” Her teeth - fangs - flashed when she smiled. “Vampire. Pick your favorite.”

You weren’t surprised - you had known, after all. But your hands shook where they rested on your knees, your palms suddenly sticky with sweat. Your heart hammered against your ribs and you wondered if she could hear it. You weren’t surprised, your body just hadn't gotten the memo.

You nodded and cleared your throat. You reached for the glass just to have something to do with your hands. The cold water was a blissful distraction, giving you a moment of reprieve. When you set it back down, you hoped she didn’t see the way your fingers trembled.

When you found your tongue again, you said, “What about the pictures?” When Ellie only furrowed her brow and cocked her head, you continued, “On your profile. And all the pictures you sent me. All the myths say that… vampires,” you choked on the word, “don’t show up in pictures. And mirrors,” you added, suddenly remembering the mirror in her foyer. You left the question hanging in the air, a tangible thing, until Ellie reached out to grab it.

“That myth was written centuries again,” she said, amusement tinting her words. “Silver… silver’s basically my kryptonite, right? That one’s true. Mirrors used to be made with it, which is why it wouldn’t show a reflection. But now they’re mostly made of aluminum, I think - like the one you saw at my house. Photos are the same idea,” she continued, taking out her phone as though to demonstrate. She turned the camera on, turning it around so you could see her image on the screen. “Film cameras were made with silver too - a lot of film cameras still are. But for the most part, there’s none in phone cameras. I can send you all the selfies you want.” Her image in the camera grinned that devastatingly crooked grin before she clicked the phone off again, tucking it back into her pocket.

Her mini history lesson left your head spinning. You shook it off and said, “Did you ask me out just to…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence.

Elllie’s eyes widened in alarm. She turned her entire body to you, and you suddenly wanted to shrink away from her intense stare. Her words rushed past her lips, fighting to get out first: “No! Holy shit, no - it’s not like that, I swear. I asked you out because I liked you, okay?”

You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that pulled at your lips. Cocking a brow, you teased, “Past tense?”

Ellie fumbled for a moment, her lips opening and closing with no sound, before she finally huffed out an incredulous laugh, looking up at you from under her lashes. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest. Clearing your throat, you said, “Do you… Do you turn people?”

“I haven’t for a long time.”

You weren’t sure if that brought you any comfort.

You didn’t want to ask, but you needed to know: “How many… humans have you killed?”

Ellie didn’t look at you when she said, “You don’t want to know the answer to that.” She paused before adding, “But if it’s any comfort, I haven’t done that in a long time either.”

“So if you don’t turn people and you don’t kill them, what do you eat?” You regretted the question as soon as you asked it.

“You can… feed on somebody without turning them. It takes practice to know how much to drink without hurting them. And I’ve had a lot of practice.”

You decided to leave it at that.

“If you’re not trying to… you know, feed… on me…,” the words felt impossibly big in your mouth, “then can you turn it off?”

Ellie’s brow furrowed again. “Turn what off?”

“You know, the,” you waved a hand over yourself, as if encompassing your entire being, “the weird, vampire allure you have. The intense… draw I feel when I’m near you.”

When you looked up at her, Ellie had that playful spark in her eye again, her lips quirking. She was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing she had ever seen, something new and entrancing. “That’s a myth,” she murmured.

The soft, rough tone in her voice caused a shiver to race down your spine. You asked, dumbly, “What?”

Ellie’s smile only widened. “There’s no weird, vampire allure. There’s nothing supernatural about that. That’s just how much you like me.”

Your cheeks flushed, your skin aflame with something akin to embarrassment, but it was slightly softer, more pleasant. You nodded, and could only bring your lips to say, weakly, “Okay.”

But Ellie didn't seem keen on dropping it. She turned to face you fully, drawing her legs up onto the couch; it was small enough that you could feel her pants on your shin, the rough press of denim against your bare skin. “Hell no, you don't just get to brush past that. You really-” She licked her lips and you tried not to trace the path of her tongue with your eyes.

She didn't have to finish the question. Besides, there'd be no point in hiding it. Maybe you didn't even want to.

You looked up at her, her intense expression making you want to sink into the floor. You made yourself nod, your tongue refusing to hold onto any words to describe it.

Ellie leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving yours. You felt so incredibly small under her gaze. Something akin to hunger flashed in her eyes, the eagerness of a snake right before it strikes, yet the icy feeling of fear didn't run through your blood. No, something far warmer flooded your veins.

Her voice dropped to a murmur, Ellie said, “Got any more questions, sweetheart?”

You almost didn't ask. You shouldn't, really. It'd be like tempting fate, placing your head right into its enticing maw. But your curiosity tugged at you, impossible to ignore or deny, so you said, “Can I see them?”

You didn't want to elaborate - you didn't even have to. Ellie pulled her legs under her so she could lean closer, close enough for you to smell that sweetly metallic scent that made your head spin. Still, she gave you enough space to move away as she parted her lips, watching you carefully.

Her fangs glistened in the low light, the bulbs above you glinting off the pearly white surface. You weren't sure how you didn’t notice them before. You didn't want to say they were obvious, but they were definitely hard to miss. They extended just below her regular teeth, longer than a canine should have been, the tip wickedly sharp.

You reached a hand out subconsciously, stopping just a few inches from her face. Your fingers curled, your fight or flight instincts warring with that same stubborn curiosity that you couldn’t seem to tamp down. You were not about to literally put your hand in the bear's mouth - but then Ellie met your eyes with a hunger that burned your cheeks, her still-parted lips curling up in amusement, and nodded.

You felt her breath against your skin, hot and wet, as you moved closer, pressing just the tip of your finger against the point of a fang.

You immediately drew your hand back, wincing at the sudden sting. The slightest touch had pricked your skin, the point deadly sharp.

“Shit,” you hissed, watching as a bead of blood bloomed thick and red, tracing a line down your finger. You cursed again, popping the digit into your mouth in an attempt to stop the bleeding, the taste of metal coating your tongue. Pulling your finger from your mouth, you grimaced apologetically up at Ellie and said, laughing awkwardly, “Fuck, those things are sharp-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence; you hardly even had time to register the sudden, intense hunger etched on every line of Ellie's face. Her cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, her grip just shy of painful. Her other hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your face up to kiss you.

It wasn't like what it had been at her house all those nights ago. There, in the low light of her sitting room, her kiss had been warm and slow, a gentle guidance that left you relaxed and pleasantly lightheaded, like the wine that had still blurred the edges of your vision. It had been a kiss that was really more of a question, one you hadn’t yet had the answer to.

The way Ellie kissed you now felt like a demand. She leaned over you, releasing your wrist to brace herself on the armrest behind your shoulder, her body pressed in a cold line against yours, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. She wedged her knee between yours, the rough denim of her jeans scratching your bare thighs, and an involuntary shudder wracked through your body. Using the hand against your jaw, Ellie tilted your chin just right to press in harder, pressing her tongue against the seam of your lips. You gasped, parting your lips, a heady warmth pooling between your legs. You felt Ellie's tongue press into you in search of metal-

It was too fast for you to process, but suddenly Ellie was back on the other side of the couch, gasping for air she didn't need. She had a hand over her mouth, refusing to look at you.

“Fuck,” she cursed, muffled by her fingers. Her other hand clutched at the cushion beneath her, as though it were a restraint. “Shit, I'm sorry. That was totally - I shouldn't have - fuck.”

Your brain was dizzy with whiplash, your chest still fighting to regain the breath she had stolen from you. You were suddenly far too warm, missing the chill of her body against yours. Your hands that had somehow ended up fisted in the cushions ached when you released them; a small splotch of blood stained the fabric from your injured finger, staining your skin.

Past the haze in your brain and the warmth that was impossible to ignore pooling between your legs, you could only make your mouth say, “What the fuck, Ellie?”

It was like you had kicked a dog. Ellie - with her razor sharp teeth and predatory instincts - hung her head in shame, squeezing her eyes closed. She scrubbed a hand over her face and moved to stand, saying, “I'm so fucking sorry, I'll leave-”

You reached out to grab her wrist, the cold biting into your fingers. For a moment it seemed like she was frozen, caught in ice, staring down at where your skin met hers. You could feel a pulse pounding in your fingers and you knew it wasn't hers.

“Why the fuck,” you said before your own traitorous heart gave out on you, “did you stop?”

You saw the question in Ellie’s eyes before she said it. You couldn't hear her ask it - if you did, the logical part of your brain might catch up to you and stop you. You tugged on her wrist, wrapping your other hand around the back of her neck to pull her back into you.

The logical part of you - the part that fought to keep you alive - didn't matter right now.

Ellie’s gasp was muffled as you pulled her down to kiss her again, grunting when she landed clumsily on top of you. There was a moment where you both froze, your lips locked, and you mentally prepared yourself for the awkwardness that would surely follow.

Yet, surprisingly, it never came. Instead, Ellie giggled into your mouth and the taste of it was like the sweetest drug, coating your throat and giving you a euphoric high. She moved the arm you were still holding, twisting her wrist so she could slide her hand into yours, locking your fingers. Her other hand braced against the couch by your hip, supporting herself as she finally pulled away from you. She didn’t go far; you could see each speck of green and brown and gold in her eyes, could count her freckles like you had counted the stars as a child.

Ellie was laughing, but there was no malice behind it. It was warm, far too warm for the silence that lived within her ribcage. You wondered if it would taste like the wine she had bought you - like wood and fire on your tongue, a sultry spice that was just a little out of your tax bracket.

“What are you doing?” Ellie murmured, her breath catching in your lashes.

You shrugged, feeling exposed under her intense gaze, sure she could hear the tremble in your breath. You shifted, leaning back on your elbows and looking up at her through your lashes. You tried - and failed - to sound nonchalant when you said, “We never finished what we started at your house.”

Ellie furrowed her brow and you had the strongest urge to reach up and smooth it out. Confusion was a cute look on her. “Are you sure?” she said, looking at you like you might run away any moment. “I mean-“

You placed your finger on her bottom lip, her words coming to a stuttering stop. There was still blood smeared on your skin, a new bloom pooling from the wound, tracing its slow path down to your knuckle. Ellie froze, her trembling lips the only part that seemed capable of movement. You felt like you’d choke on your own held breath.

Ellie’s eyes were eclipsed, a barely contained hunger hiding in wait there. You had never before felt so much like watched prey, like a mouse taunting a cat, fascinated by its sharp teeth. Her voice was a low murmur, a heat you could feel against your skin and in your chest: “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know.”

You hummed, tilting your head and dipping the tip of your finger between her parted lips. You felt her shudder, her mouth dropping open, and a flush crept up your neck, tingling in each of your fingertips. Ellie’s eyelids fluttered; she gripped your hand so tight it ached in your wrist. She was shaking under your hands, desperately trying to hold herself together even as she was coming apart at the seams.

You waited until she opened her eyes, looking at you for some kind of relief. You pressed your finger to her tongue lightly, just enough for her to taste the fresh blood there, and said, “The best games always are.”

That must have been all the confirmation Ellie needed. She wrapped her lips around your finger, her tongue warm and wet against your skin. You felt her moan, the purr of it against your hand, the vibration of it tracing a hot finger down your chest, settling low in your stomach. When she sucked, her throat bobbing, you felt it like electricity, as though her tongue were elsewhere.

Ellie whined when you pulled your hand back, leaving a smear of blood on her bottom lip. Her eyes were half-lidded, her breath hard and fast against your cheeks, and you couldn't stop yourself from grabbing her hair and pulling her back into you.

Her mouth tasted of metal - of you, your life. It should have been repulsive, tasting the thing that rushed beneath your skin on somebody's tongue, but it only sent a warm shudder through your body, pooling low in your stomach. Her fingers pressed into the dip at your hip, digging in enough to bruise. Ellie groaned when you pressed your tongue between her lips, chasing the taste of your own lifeblood.

“Fuck, you taste good,” she moaned against your lips. She pressed you back against the cushions, slotting her thigh between your legs-

You pulled back, panting. You tried to speak - you had something to say, but you couldn't quite remember it as you met Ellie's hungry eyes. She had you pinned, her thigh pressing just too lightly where you wanted her most, and every coherent thought you could have had dissolved into the air.

“I, um,” you started, words failing you. Ellie tilted her head with a smug smirk, but something akin to concern flashed in her eyes, so you tried again. “I was just thinking - Wouldn't you rather do this somewhere… nicer?” You winced, unsure how else to word it. Your small, shabby apartment was definitely a step - several dozen steps - down from her fucking Victorian mansion.

Ellie paused, looking around at the small space before you. Her eyes lingered on the small TV, a dying plant in the corner, the pictures of your family and friends hanging on the walls. She took it in slowly, as though there were more to consider than a living room the size of her closet, before finally looking back down at you.

Shrugging, she said, “I think it's nice,” and leaned down to kiss you again.

Without any further protest, you tangled your fingers in Ellie's hair, using the leverage to pull her closer. When she gasped at the sting of it, you couldn't stop the buck of your hips, grinding down against her thigh, whimpering at the friction of denim between your legs. Ellie pressed her thigh further into you, smiling against your lips when you moaned; you could feel each jolt of electricity through the thin fabric of your shorts.

Ellie hummed, tracing her tongue in a hot line down your jaw. She pressed a hard kiss to the hinge of your jaw and murmured, voice rough in your ear, “I need to know how else you taste.”

You groaned, arching up into her. You felt, with a cold realization, her teeth against your skin, her fangs pressing at the soft swell of your throat. She didn’t press in hard enough to harm you - hard enough to feed on you - but just hard enough for you to feel the sting of it. You tilted your head back, granting her better access, and felt her grin against you, a short huff of laughter in your ear.

“God, it’s like you want me to.” Her voice was the purr of a cat playing with its food. She released her vice grip on your hip, instead gliding her hand over your stomach, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt. You cursed, shivering from more than just her cold skin on yours. You wanted to swallow her accompanying moan. “It’d be so easy just to sink my teeth in right,” she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, and you were sure she could feel it jump beneath her lips, “here.”

Ellie’s hand glided up your stomach, rucking up your shirt. Goosebumps raised across your skin, exposed to the chilly air of your apartment. She was right - some reckless, animalistic part of you wanted to know what it’d feel like. Some part of you wanted her to sink her teeth into you and take whatever she wanted.

”Can I?” Ellie murmured, breaking you from your thoughts. She had your shirt fisted in her hand, looking at you with raw want, and it made your head spin. You only lifted your arms in response, helping her tug your shirt over your head.

You cursed, shielding your body, a shiver racking through your shoulders. “Fuck, it’s cold,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. “You’re not exactly helping either. You’re like a fucking-“

You almost said vampire and bit your tongue around another mindless laugh.

Ellie leaned back to take you in, her eyes raking over your body; you felt strangely like you were exposed beneath a magnifying glass. She gently pulled your hands away from your body, raising them above your head so she could see you, bare and vulnerable before her. She grasped your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the armrest above your head. She traced the other hand across your chest, a trail of goosebumps following her touch.

“This is my favorite part, you know.” She still refused to speak any louder than a murmur, a low growl, as though to speak any loud would break whatever spell she had over you. You groaned when cold fingers skated over your nipple, pulling a smile to her lips. “Seeing someone squirming under me. Seeing their want, feeling it written across their body.” She leaned down over you, her lips barely brushing against yours, and whispered, “I can hear the pounding of your heart.” She pinched your nipple between her fingers, pulling a choked gasp from your chest. “I can hear it skip every time I touch you.”

You tried to lift your head, wanting desperately to catch her lips, but she was too fast. She released your wrists, but you left them where they were, not quite registering the sudden freedom because her tongue - so hot compared to the rest of her - licked a slow line over your nipple, her fingers still toying with the other. Your whole body jolted, your chest lifting to meet her waiting mouth, and you felt her smile against your skin.

Lifting her head, Ellie gave your nipple a last teasing pinch before letting her hand glide down your body. You whimpered when her fingers dipped just below your waistband and you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it, because she was looking at you again with those dark, hungry eyes and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be devoured. Ellie ran her hand over your waistband, fingers coming to grip your hip so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises there in the morning, branded with her fingerprints.

She cursed, fingers tightening around your hips, pulling at you impatiently. “Fuck, come here.”

Ellie guided you to sit up, maneuvering you so you were sitting straight, your feet planted firmly on the floor. She crawled off the couch, kneeling on the floor before you, her hands gently but firmly coaxing your knees apart. Pressing a hand to your chest, Ellie pushed you back to relax against the cushions before she settled on the floor between your legs. Your heart was pounding against your rib cage, and it made you dizzy knowing that she could hear it like music.

Humming, Ellie leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, smiling when you shivered. Your brain was distracted by the heat in your stomach, so you almost didn’t realize she was talking again: “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Taking you home that night.” She pressed another kiss to your feverish skin, lips tracing higher up your thigh, her teeth grazing your skin enough to sting. “I can’t stop thinking about how you smelled - sinfully sweet. How you sounded, the flutter of your heart when I kissed you. The prettiest sounds spilled from your lips when I kissed your neck - you were practically begging me to bite you.”

You gasped when she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh. She didn’t break your skin - didn’t drink from you - but when she pulled back you could see the red welt she had left behind. You hoped it would bruise by morning.

“Stop talking,” you whined, reaching out to twist your fingers in her hair. She huffed a laugh against your skin when you tugged. “God, I didn’t know you’d be such a tease when I matched with you.”

In response, Ellie brought a hand up to press her palm right between your legs. You gasped, the chill of her fingers through your thin shorts like a shot of electricity through you. Smiling, Elle grinded her palm against you, right where the fabric was the wettest. You had to bite your lip to stifle a moan.

“I like to take my time,” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I want to watch you come apart for me. And I will take,” she continued, pressing harder against you until you saw stars, “however long I want.”

You cursed when she removed her hand, quickly replacing it with her mouth. Ellie pressed a kiss to the crease of your thigh, her tongue warm against the exposed skin. When you pulled at her hair, you could feel the vibration of her moans. She took the waistband of your shorts between her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin and chuckling when you jumped.

“You smell so fucking good,” she said, voice muffled as she pressed a kiss right where you wanted her most. You tried to buck up into her, to chase the feeling of her mouth and her teeth, but she dug her fingers into the dip of your hipbones and held you in place. She breathed you in, and you could feel her warm breath fanning over you. Ellie groaned, so low it was nearly a growl, and said, “Fuck, I need to taste you.”

The only work you could make your mindless mouth say was Please as you lifted your hips, hastily helping Ellie shove your shorts and underwear down your legs. You had never before felt the rough fabric of your couch against your bare ass and you frankly weren’t sure how you felt about it, but that thought was promptly shoved from your mind because Ellie was hooking her arms under your legs, tugging you closer so your hips were right at the edge of the couch. You let your head fall back when she pressed a kiss to your pussy, just the barest brush of her lips.

“Look at me,” Ellie said, her nails digging into your thighs. You lifted your head to look down at her, confused, and the sight of her kneeling between your legs made your stomach do an embarrassing flip. Your legs tried to close on instinct against the new wave of warmth between them, but Ellie’s hands hooked under your thighs kept them apart.

Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, on her knees before you. Her eyes were impossibly dark, the green appearing nearly black. Her plush, pink lips were parted, short huffs of breath fanning against you - you couldn’t look away from those lips, imaging all the impossible things she could do to you.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she murmured, holding your gaze - you couldn’t even think about looking away. “If you look away, I’ll stop. Understand?” She waited until you finally nodded - nothing more than a short jerk of your head - before she smiled. You barely heard her quiet “Good girl” before she pressed forward and licked a slow, hot line over you.

Instinct wanted to let your head fall back again but, remembering her threat, you forced yourself to keep your eyes trained on Ellie, bearing witness to how she unraveled you. She held your hot gaze as she drew slow, torturous circles around your clit with her tongue, just barely brushing against where you needed her most.

An embarrassing whine pulled at your throat as you tried desperately to press down against her mouth, but Ellie’s hands held you firmly in place. The only thing you could do was twist your fingers in her hair, tugging uselessly as you watched her take her goddamn time. She didn’t lie - she was going to take exactly as long as she wanted.

“Oh, fuck.” You couldn't control the breathy moans spilling from your mouth when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a slow stripe up to your aching clit. Your fingers tightened in her hair, and you felt the vibration of her moan like a shot of electricity. Forgetting her demand entirely, you let your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against the cushions.

You whimpered pathetically when Ellie pulled away, the sudden loss of her mouth like a tangible ache. You raised your head, a complaint already on your tongue, but it died behind your teeth. Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, her hair slicked back from her forehead, and those perfectly parted lips shined wetly - slick with you. She untangled one hand from around your thigh, choosing instead to slide her fingers over your pussy.

“Eyes on me, baby,” she said, and pressed two fingers inside you.

You cursed, a high pitched moan hanging in the air before you. Your eyes wanted to roll back, but you blinked hard, forcing them to stay trained on Ellie. You couldn't bear the thought of her stopping again.

Green eyes looked up at you from between your legs, shining dangerously. Pressing back in, she flicked her tongue over your clit before taking it into her mouth, your hips bucking when she sucked. You hooked your legs over her shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull her closer, your heels digging into her back; you used your grip on her hair to guide her exactly where you needed her, watching her eyes flutter as she groaned against you.

Ellie curled her fingers inside you, rubbing circles over that soft spot that made you see stars. In some distant, hysteric part of your mind, you thought about how you were definitely being loud enough for your neighbors to hear you through your paper-thin walls, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care because she was pressing her tongue against your clit, her fingers inside of you moving to the same intoxicating beat.

An overwhelming warmth was building up in your stomach, a heat that you were desperate to hang on to. You gripped Ellie’s hair, afraid she would pull away, because you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back, fluttering shut against the wave that crashed into you. She must have been feeling merciful, because she didn’t even slow when you let your head drop back, breathy moans just dripping from your lips like honey, slow and thick and impossibly sweet. You couldn’t think of anything past Ellie’s mouth and tongue and fingers, every sense you had honing in on the heat of her lips. You arched into her when you came, hips bucking against her mouth, chasing a high that would be all too easy to get addicted to.

Ellie worked you through it, tracing gentle circles over your clit and drawing the sweetest whimpers from your lips. She didn’t stop until your vice grip on her hair finally released, your hips stilling as you slumped back against the cushions. She finally pulled away, leaning back against her heels, and when you looked down at her you nearly whimpered at the sight. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles from your incessant tugging, her lips swollen and shining. She licked her lips and you felt like you might die.

“Fuck,” was all you could say, laughing weakly. You felt spent, your chest aching from the breath you couldn’t quite catch.

Ellie hummed, tilting her head, that infuriating smirk back on her lips. She pushed herself up onto her knees, one hand snaking its way to your hip, and you realized the fingers on her other hand were still inside you. She held your gaze, raising her eyebrows as though looking for permission, before she slowly slid her fingers out of you, pausing for one maddening moment, before pressing them roughly back into you.

“Fuck,” you said again, your back arching into her. Your fingers twisted in the cushions under you as though you needed something to hold onto.

“God, look at you,” she murmured, pumping her fingers into you, hard and slow, pressing into the intoxicating spot inside you. “So fucking pretty. Your body’s practically begging for me.”

Your mouth dropped open when her thumb found your clit, sliding over it in the same delicious rhythm of her fingers. You whimpered, body jolting when she leaned up just enough to take your nipple into her mouth, eyes crossing when she slammed into you harder.

It didn’t take long for you to come again, your orgasm slamming into you with such force that sparks flashed in your eyes. You reached out to grip Ellie’s shoulder, nails digging into her skin as though to keep yourself grounded. You thought you cried her name, but you couldn’t be sure.

She didn’t stop until you were twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering beneath her. Ellie released your nipple, pressing a gentle kiss to your breastbone as she slowly slid her fingers out of you. You clenched around the sudden emptiness, missing her fingers even though your pussy ached, overstimulated and spent.

Ellie leaned back to look up at you, waiting until you met her blurry eyes before she slipped her fingers past her lips, sucking the digits into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, tongue gathering every last drop of you.

You groaned, watching as she slid her fingers slowly from her lips, before you grabbed her face and pulled her up into a kiss. You pressed your tongue past her lips, moaning at the sharp taste of you on her tongue.

Ellie was laughing when she pulled away, taking your face in her hands. She looked up at you, those green eyes shining so brightly you felt like you had to look away. You held her gaze anyway, unwilling to look away from the sun. You weren’t sure what it meant - what any of this meant, really. You had let this strange girl into your apartment, knowing exactly what she was, and had let her unravel you on your gifted couch. You had gone on one date, and instead of finding somebody else to take home to her ridiculous Victorian home, she had sought you out.

Honestly, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, she had said.

You weren’t sure what any of it meant. But, honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now.

“For the record,” Ellie said, pausing to press another long kiss to your lips; when she pulled away, she didn’t go far, her lips moving against yours, “that wasn’t any weird vampire allure either.”

@macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peekayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound @kirammanss @elliespookie @starsfortaylor @ripelyswife @autisticintr0vert @g3latin @sunflarie @williamellieslilho @kl1q @livvieloveswomen

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positivelybeastly · 6 hours ago

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X-Force and Krakoa as a whole was a bad time to be a Beast fan. So for fun I just wanted to ask, if you were in charge of Beast during the Krakoa era, what storylines would you have liked to see done with him? I feel like there was a lot of potential there that didn't get realized because he was basically trapped in X-Force hell and rarely appeared outside of it. For instance, with the whole cloning thing, he could've technically gotten his human-looking body back for real, without the intelligence-draining drawback from X-Factor. It might've been cool to explore that temptation. Would he even still want to go back? Has he fully accepted who he is at this point? Maybe he'd view it as cowardice to erase his outward mutation when others can't. And then there's the potential for exploring his thoughts on mutants separating from the world as one of the more connected mutants who often worked to try and bring them together with humanity. I feel like a lot of his story potential with Krakoa was wasted due to the plot he was forced into.

So, I've had thoughts about this.

Yeah, I categorically have to agree, Beast was criminally wasted on Krakoa.

Like, even if you do take the view that his heel turn was done well (it wasn't), it was a logical place for his character to go (it wasn't), and that his villain arc was satisfying (it wasn't), it's still, objectively, the stupidest thing to do with him, in and out of universe, because Hank is actually fairly unique among X-Men characters in terms of how he can interact with the Krakoan status quo?

So, let's explore some of the stories that we could have gotten during the Krakoan era!

Now, in the interests of fairness, this thought experiment will have a few ground rules, most notably that it has to treat everything that came before it, up to 2018-2019, as hard canon, and it has to flow naturally from that point. We're also not going to radically alter the rest of the Krakoan story, in part because I hate the wankery of 'oh, everything would have been fine if this one character had been here,' and in part because Krakoa was designed to fail, so we're keeping those themes and intents intact.

Ah, but I hear you say! How can that be so when X-Force can't happen without Beast there?

Easily, I say! One, because X-Force doesn't actually do shit in the wider Krakoan story - it's, like, genuinely worthless as part of the wider narrative, there's a reason every recommended reading list for the era skips it - and two, because we can just put Dark Beast in charge of it instead, and the story doesn't change at all.

Why not? If Sinister can be on the Quiet Council, why can't Dark Beast get his shot at a position of authority? He's still alive, so we don't have to worry about justifying his resurrection under the no clones rule, and it would suit Sinister's wider story beats to have an ally who owes him for saving his life in such a useful position.

But yeah, this legitimately doesn't change the story one bit. All you have to do is tweak a few bits of Jean Grey, Colossus, and Domino's dialogue, and nothing changes. So, X-Force is completely intact. You're welcome. Now, on with the show!

Option 1-A: Exile/The Nonconformist

One of the more interesting and maybe divisive choices I think we could go with for Hank - what if he just says no, I wouldn't want to be on your kooky culty ethnostate island? Or, alternatively, what if the Quiet Council string him along, get him to create their miracle drugs, and then exile him from the island because he's considered a rogue, unstable element?

It's within their character, especially Shaw, Mystique, Apocalypse and Sinister, to not want him around, and frankly, I don't think Jean, Charles, Kurt, or Ororo would really vouch for him, either. The X-Men have been established not to fully trust Hank, thanks to the time travel debacle, and he doesn't like them much, either, after they stabbed him in the back during Inhumans vs. X-Men and got him fired from Harvard, so it'd be very easy to more naturalistically pick up on the story beats from there with him just not being welcome on Krakoa or not wanting to be there.

It also fits with the wider course of his character, where Hank has repeatedly expressed unease at being an X-Man and left the team as a result, multiple times. Hell, this is where he's at with Charles and the X-Men as of 2018.

Not exactly champing at the bit, is he? He sounds tired, and over it.

This opens up a more realistic and, let's be real here, interesting dynamic than we had on Krakoa, where everyone is, by virtue of editorial dictate, now magically fine with one another to the point where they'll all live on the same island and also completely fine with establishing a new nationality for themselves.

We can argue about Krakoa's isolationism, capitalism, human policies, etc, but the fact remains, everyone was made a monolith and they all moved in together, and it was kinda lame if you stopped and thought about it. They did it because the X-office wanted all their eggs in one basket so they could hand them out to their writers and not have to share, not because it was a natural move for a lot of these characters.

As you intimated, it especially doesn't really make sense for Hank to do this - he's been an Avenger for almost as long as he's been an X-Man, a lot of his best friends are on that team, and his friendships with the X-Men are rocky at best, textually speaking. His very human and pro-mutant parents are still in Illinois, and still alive, as of 2018.

I also think it's an interesting move from the Krakoan side - you establish early on that there's some real double standard bullshit going on, just like you do with Sabretooth, but EXACTLY as with Sabretooth, it's against an 'acceptable' target.

It's also a good springboard from which to spur Hank into action - maybe this is his penance for his actions, exile from paradise, the punishment he kept saying he was ready to accept but that no-one seemed willing to dole out. Maybe this pushes him to clean up his act. Maybe this is what Eva Bell was talking about, when she talked about the Trial of Hank McCoy - the trial that determines that he's unfit to be Krakoan. This is really interesting emotional ground for him, too, to be ostracised again - does it hurt as much, does he rave, does he go ballistic, does he quietly accept it and cut ties?

Where does he go from here? I don't quite know! Maybe Jed MacKay gets to use him for his new Avengers team, come 2023, and he gets to join the fight against Orchis as part of Fall of X. Maybe we get a Defenders reunion, with Gargoyle, Moondragon, and a few new members. Maybe we get a Beast and Wonder Man team up comic! Hell, get him to join the Fantastic Four or Spider-Man as a supporting character - Hank has so many connections, you can literally use him anywhere.

Option 1-B: X-Club.

An offshoot of the above - what if Hank appears to be exiled/a non-conformist, but he's actually on a secret mission for Xavier? More specifically, what if he's been given the directive that he SHOULD have been given from the start - to find a way to oust Sinister from Krakoa, permanently.

Think about it. Hank is objectively smarter than Sinister, he just doesn't obsessively focus on genetics. He is the single smartest X-Man. If anyone can rebuild, steal, or substitute Sinister's genetic database, the one bit of collateral keeping every X-Man from obliterating him on the spot, it's him.

Enter X-Club volume 2.

Beast, Kavita Rao, Doctor Nemesis - throw in every scientist you've got. Their one mission: get their hands on Sinister's database. I'm thinking a five issue miniseries, short, sweet, loaded with science and sass. In the end, they fail, because the rest of Krakoa has to unfold, but guess what? At least they tried! At least the Quiet Council is trying! Maybe they get away with a small victory, maybe a portion of the database, maybe they only put a stop to one of Sinister's schemes (which would make it intertwine with Hellions nicely), but at least they tried.

You also get to play with some of the more interesting aspects of being an undercover operative - namely, the emotional toll of lying to your friends and family about what you've been up to. Imagine the charge of Hank having to shit-talk Krakoa, knowing that Bobby and Warren and Jean are all going to hear it, and then he has to go and fight for it, and he can't say a word about it? There's pathos and tragedy in there!

Option 2: Temporal Guardian

The X-Men cannot escape from crossing fate - uh, I mean, temporal drama and bullshit. Krakoa especially was rife with it, thanks to shit like Sins of Sinister and Moira X, so, why not let's actually interact with it, using one of the characters who has both the knowledge and the power to interact with time on a higher level?

Hank McCoy canonically had: 1) intricate knowledge of temporal physics, 2) temporal senses that made him mentally immune to changes in the timeline, and 3) the ability to move, completely independently, through time using magic.

The guy's just a fucking Time Lord at that point.

So, let's let him Time Lord! Imagine a circuit between him, Rachel Summers and Tempus - Sins of Sinister would be over like that. You're worried about the timeline where mutants always win or always lose? Just use the mutants at your disposal to metagame your way to the timeline you want! You literally have the tools, you just won't use them!

This is the most 'comic booky' of the options, but I honestly think this could have been fun as a gimmick for a book, battling across centuries for the fate of mutantkind, taking on all comers - hell, maybe you could even use Orbis Stellaris for something instead of having him just sit around in his dumb orb, and he decides to try and engineer a win using temporal warfare!

It'd be neat, is all I'm saying.

Option 3: The School

Remember how Krakoa didn't have a school?

You know? The island nation, didn't have an actual place where you'd go and learn shit? The thing we had when we were a superhero team, but the instant we decide we want infrastructure and a nation and a full on population, we just don't want it?

Think I found your dude.

It always struck me that the move to teacher made more sense for some X-Men than others, but for Hank, it really was the most natural fit in the world. Highly academic, empathetic, good with kids, open minded, versatile - he's perfect to lead a school. And, now that you've divorced the school from the X-Men, you avoid the issue you had when Hank took over the school during Here Comes Tomorrow, where the pressure destroyed him - he doesn't have to worry about the fate of mutantkind, he's literally just a teacher now.

But, 'just' a teacher? Of mutants? Ha!

This would be a really interesting coming of age/community book, I think, maybe more slice-of-lifey and akin to Wolverine & the X-Men volume 1 in content, though maybe not as whacky in tone. Academy X students, nascent mutants, people who just want to pick up a community college class, people who never got a formal education, hell, characters who find they need qualifications in things that they never got - you could literally throw everyone in here, and Hank can bounce off them all.

This is maybe the 'safest' place for Hank, the most obvious and 'boring,' but I think a good writer who's interested in the mutant metaphor and the generational aspect of it, as well as the passing vs. non-passing mutant dichotomy, would have a lot of material to dive into - your ideas, of Hank grappling with his role as role model to these kids, of working on his complicated feelings regarding his mutation, would slot in well here, I think.

A story where Hank arrives to teach a class in his human form, much to the shock, worry, and disturbance of all of his students, and the ramifications of such a choice, would be really interesting, and a good opportunity to comment on the Krakoan tendency towards disposable bodies and the cheapness of death, too.

That being said, I do think it's worth noting that Bendis' choices with Hank and the subsequent story flow seem to indicate that Hank's dysmorphia and dysphoria were associated primarily with his feline form, since he'd come to terms with his classic form and seemed more comfortable in his modern form immediately.

The switch from full kevlar vest, bandolier, pants and body coverings to the shorts says it all, doesn't it? One of these bodies is acceptable to display. The other is not. But, even if Bendis took away the feline mutation in favour of a design that appealed more to nostalgia, that doesn't mean we can't use this book to unpick that idea, and talk about Hank's feelings on that and why one is okay while the other isn't. There were aspects of this in New Mutants, and this would be a good way to handle it from yet another perspective!

Option 4: Reunion and Reconciliation

So, it's pretty fair to say that the O5 have drifted apart.

So.

Let's DO something with that, shall we?

O5 reunion book. Let's hash it all out. Every petty grievance, every massive failure, every way they've hurt one another, not been there for one another, let's DO IT. Let's hear Hank tear Scott a new one for not saving him from Osborn until the time was right. Let's hear Scott tear Hank a new one for breaking the space-time continuum just to try and hurt him. Let's hear Warren tear Jean a new one for the shitty way she treated him when they were time displaced. Let's do EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Let's put it all to rest.

Maybe this could only sustain a big giant size issue, but fuck it, it's a better use of page space than that Original X-Men one-shot that ended up being nothing but an advert for yet another Wolverine book! And it would be high key dramatic as fuck. Let's do that thing that often makes for the single best episodes of a TV show or movie - people in a room, around a table, TALKING at one another. There is so much history there, and you wouldn't know it by looking at Krakoa as it is! Scott, Warren and Bobby never even speak Hank's name, and god knows that Warren got shit fuck bugger nothing to do for most of the era once X-Corp died, so let's DO something, like, my god. These people are meant to be family - let's treat them like one.

And hell, while we're at it? Let's settle what happened with Abigail once and for all, too! Are they together? Are they not? What's the story, morning glory? I hate existing in this nowhere space where we don't know shit about fuck!

Option 5: X-Forces Beyond Our Control

All right, so, I've been outlining all of the above, and the assumption has always been that X-Force just ends the way it does in 616, though it's probably a little less homoerotic, Dark Beast probably just bites it at Logan's hands and it's all as uncritical as Percy's normal work.

Well, what if X-Force were good, actually?

What if we leverage some old history?

Bring Beast in as a supporting cast member for X-Force once Dark Beast, their Director, goes rogue.

Let's explore and unpack Sage and Hank's relationship - let's look at the way that Xavier wronged them both, made them both child soldiers, brought their genius to bear, left them emotionally unprepared for the future they faced.

Let's unpack Hank's lingering resentment over the choice that Sage made for him, that saved his life but 'trapped' him in the feline form for years.

Let's unpack Sage's jealousy and confusion over Hank being Charles' favourite, let's take the old man to task, let's see where this goes.

Hell, while we're at it, let's even do something with Colossus, and dive into Hank's guilt over Piotr's taking of the Legacy Virus cure so many years ago. Does Piotr even realise Hank felt that way, realise that he feels he probably killed Piotr? Does he forgive him? Does Hank forgive himself?

And then we lock in. Beast vs. Dark Beast. The final confrontation. It's been brewing since 1996, and it's about time we settled it.

So, those are my thoughts on what Beast COULD have been up to Krakoa, instead of being stuck in a 100 issue long diatribe about how 'Kissinger Was Bad, Mmkay?' by a sub-par writer. I also think that while you could choose one of these options, it's not out of the question to do ALL of them, if you really wanted to maximise your Beast per year values. They're not exactly mutually exclusive, if you think about it!

Hopefully that answers your question, friend!

#koalaguru #outofmuffins #gif warning #epilepsy warning #bright light #hank mccoy #henry mccoy

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littlefluu · 6 hours ago

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WITH EASE by @hhmnya f. ᝰ in which hyung line helps you with your kid .ᐟ₊ ⊹

₊˚⊹꒷ LEE HEESEUNG ꒷⊹˚₊

ᝰ.ᐟ DO YOU THINK I AM FRAGILE by @just-nc-tea f, a, sugg. A car accident has turned your life upside down, leaving you with a knee and ankle that ache like they belong to someone three times your age. Navigating college with these setbacks is hard enough, but when your overprotective dad insists you take an internship with the men’s hockey team, you’re thrust back into the world you’ve spent years avoiding. The rink represents everything you’ve lost—and then there’s Heeseung, the captain whom you somehow cannot stop thinking about. ᝰ Hockey team captain! Heeseung x the coaches daughter / Ice hockey au / College sports aus / angst / hurt / comfort / slow burn / fluff, a lot of falling asleep in the same bed / some good old family drama .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SULKING WHEN HE HAS TO LEAVE FOR WORK by @jaysng f. pregnancy aches and morning sulks become part of your routine, but heeseung’s soothing touch and playful efforts to put you back to sleep remind you just how loved you are—even when work calls him away. ᝰ nonidol!heeseung!husband x fem!preg!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

I'LL BE HERE WHEN YOU'RE BACK by @honeyedfate f, sugg. ever since his room was revealed to the world on mbc world, heeseung has not known peace—whether it be from engenes or his very own girlfriend ᝰ idol!lee heeseung x gf!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

CROSS THE LINE by @heegyukeluv s, f. “How do you know if someone is flirting with you?” It was Heeseung’s question to you, and you were left with no option other than to show how you do it. ᝰ childhood best friends to lovers / fluff / kinda miscomunication? / smut .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW by @stllmnstr a. MC and Heeseung meet again at Jays wedding years after their break up and they have some unresolved feelings because they still love each other ᝰ angst / Exes to ?? .ᐟ₊ ⊹

₊˚⊹꒷ PARK JAY ꒷⊹˚₊

FAST FORWARD by @asahicore f. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems. ᝰ high school au / the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MUSIC TO MY EARS by @jayparked s. "Ride me." Jay huffs. It's a command, not a request. He moves back to the head of the bed, adjusting the pillows before leaning back against them. Lifting the covers away from his body, he removes his boxers slowly. looking into your eyes as he does so. ᝰ music producer jay / established relationship / thunder and lightning storms / cigarette smoking / early morning sex .ᐟ₊ ⊹

★ !! THE ART & SCIENCE OF PARENTING 101 by @jakesimfromstatefarm f, c. the art & science of parenting 101 (PSY1009)— in this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child'. late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. what you didn't expect to be part of the deal? getting paired with jay park—the last person you'd trust to raise, well, anything. you’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade. ᝰ fluff / comedy / e2l!au / college!au /(fake)parenting!au / he fell first, she fell harder type beat/ Such a banger .ᐟ₊ ⊹

★!! SUN KEEPS RISING (LIKE IT TENDS TO DO) by @zreamy f, s, a. being the mum friend is rewarding, if not a little tricky—you would know. it wouldn't hurt to let someone look after you for once, would it? ᝰ summer au / strangers to lovers, / friends-in-law to lovers really / smut / fluff / angst / GUYS THEY WAY ZO PORTRAYS JAY? UGH. PERFECTION .ᐟ₊ ⊹

AS THE EARTH BURNS TO THE GROUND, LAY HERE WITH ME by @fleuryuns a. it takes an asteroid hurdling toward earth for you and jay to be pulled apart, and then brought back together—but it's worth it ᝰ wealthy (ex)bf!jay x scientist!femreader / end of the world au / exes to lovers / arguments / some platonic!jake thrown in there / ambiguous ending / elements from the movie don't look up / inaccurate portrayal of astrophysics and high school debate clubs .ᐟ₊ ⊹

₊˚⊹꒷ SIM JAKE ꒷⊹˚₊

OOPS, JUNO by @moonheecore f, s. Getting accidentally pregnant was the last thing you ever imagined. You were still in school, with so many plans for the future ahead of you. Yet, you felt certain that keeping the baby was the decision you wanted to make. What would your aloof mother think? and, perhaps most importantly, you wonder if Jake would feel the same way? ᝰ college AU / established relationship / baby daddy Jake / toxic mother trope / abortion mentioned / frat parties / body changes during pregnancy mentioned .ᐟ₊ ⊹

KISSES SHARED WITH JAKE by @elikajinnie f, sugg. jake watching you do your makeup and cant ressist kissing you

★!! THE TATTOO ON MY RING FINGER by @thatfeelinwhenyou His neglect wasn’t an accident—it was a choice, one you kept excusing as “busy” while swallowing your hurt and waiting for him to care enough to show up. The harsh truth? He simply didn't care enough to make the effort. Remember this, ladies: if he truly wanted to, he would. "Busy" is just another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to. ᝰ marriage of convenience / slow burn romance / enemies to lovers (kinda) / second chance romance / angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

THE LOVE RIDE by @whjluv SMAU. after your mutual breakup, your ex disappears from the public eye for almost a year, only to comeback with a deeply emotional album entirely about you, sending fans into a frenzy. they analyze every lyric and link it to your past relationship, causing your breakup to become once again the talk of the internet. upset and surprised that the so private Jake preferred to deal with his emotions publicly instead of talking it out with you, you drop a single in response, highlighting the parts of your breakup he left out. ᝰ smau with some writing / singer au / exes to lovers / second chance / miscommunication trope / angst / fluff / humor .ᐟ₊ ⊹

NO DOUBT by @jakesimfromstatefarm f, a. struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you. ᝰ idol/jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon / bestfriends!enha / friends to lovers!au / angstttt / fluff / crack .ᐟ₊ ⊹

ᝰ.ᐟ THE TRUTH UNTOLD & PT. 2 by @just-nc-tea f, a, sugg. Jake’s world takes a nosedive when he gets a wedding invitation from his high school ex—the same ex who cheated on him—with your ex. Desperate to avoid showing up alone Jake ropes you into a fake relationship, just for the evening. Originally. But if you’re going to sell the lie, you have to make it convincing. That means dates, inside jokes, learning the little details about each other that real couples would know. By the time the wedding arrives, neither of you are sure where the act ends and the truth begins. ᝰ Hockeyplayer! Jake / college sports / angst / hurt / comfort / slow burn/ fluff / suggestive / fake dating / he fell first and he fell harder.ᐟ₊

₊˚⊹꒷ PARK SUNGHOON ꒷⊹˚₊

★!! CAPTAIN'S LOG by @peachenle sugg. "If you’re trying to be subtle about checking me out, it’s really not working.” You were too drunk to care, and met his eyes, “Yeah, yeah you caught me. Life’s more fun without subtlety. ᝰ hockey college!au / fratboy!au / sexual themes .ᐟ₊ ⊹ Guys I am so in love with this story! Defintely check it out!!

★!! DOWN THE HATCH by @peachenle f, sugg. a collection of moments with sunghoon, shared over meals, snacks, and drinks. a riff off of timestamps. not in chronological order. a continuation/epilogue of captain’s log. ᝰ college!au / fratboy!au / fluff / established relationship / some suggestive content .ᐟ₊ ⊹

THE LIGHTHOUSE by @jjunieworld (deactivated) f, a, h, s. the land has always been something you desperately wished you could walk on. be like the humans and walk among them. one dark and stormy night, you are granted your wish—but, it comes with a deadly price. and you only have one month to decide if you’re willing to pay it. ᝰ strangers to lovers / kinda love at first sight /mermaid!reader / lighthouse keeper!sunghoon /fantasy / slow burn / slice of life / forced proximity / classic story of a mermaid washing up on shore with a twist / slight smidge of horror elements .ᐟ₊ ⊹

WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE THIS SUMMER by @asahicore f, s, a. Your mom ruins your summer plans by sending you to the equestrian center your grandmother owns in the south of France, wanting you to spend some time away from the city and take a break from your med studies. Although you’d been determined to spend the worst time ever there, you soon find out that maybe the cold but cute horse nerd next door who doesn’t want to talk to you might actually turn this summer into the best one of your life. ᝰ summer au / strangers to mutual dislike to friends to lovers ig / city girl x country boy type beat .ᐟ₊ ⊹

★!! SPF 23 by @zreamy f, s. for as long as you can remember, your summers have been much the same, largely spent in your hometown, relaxing by the local pool. when you get back home this summer, things seem like they'll go the same way, until you get to the pool that is — when did the lifeguard get so hot? ᝰ smut, fluff, people that kinda know each other to lovers, summer au, lifeguard au, sunghoon is buff and shy and ugh guys its SO good .ᐟ₊ ⊹

★!! THE DOLLMAKER by @jjunbug a,f,h. you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore. ᝰ established relationship / angsty & mature themes / smut / some fluff / husband & dollmaker!sunghoon / gothic vibes /supernatural elements / THIS WAS SO SCARY BUT SO GOOD OH MY GOD .ᐟ₊ ⊹

WHY by @hoonieyun a. breaking up with your boyfriend means losing a lover but what happens when your boyfriend was also your best friend, meaning you lost both and now have to face him for a popular youtube show ᝰ angst / heartbreak / exes reunited / exes to ..? .ᐟ₊ ⊹

₊˚⊹꒷ NISHIMURA RIKI ꒷⊹˚₊

RUINED MAKE OUT SESSIONS by @rose-petles sugg.

TEXTING BF!NI-KI by @jaeyunluvbot SMAU, c.

YOU'RE NO GOOD FOR ME, BUT BABY I WANT YOU by @purinfelix f. after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ᝰ delinquent Niki x class president reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

₊˚⊹꒷ AMAZING AUTHORS ꒷⊹˚₊

@zreamy @jjunbug @thatfeelinwhenyou @jakesimfromstatefarm

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lovelynicho · 15 hours ago

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Boynextdoor reaction - one night

(unexpectedly spending late night with them)

Pairing: boynextdoor x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: not proofread, but nothing else

Note: no, still not a request, I'm sorry, I swear I'm working on those too! Also I started writing this like months ago and today I felt like finishing it because I had a sudden attack of ideas for this fic, hope you like it! English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes

Masterlist

Sungho

Originally he invited you over to try out a new video game he got but neither of you thought that it will be so entertaining that you'll be at it for hours. First you were very calm about it, still figuring out how everything works but after you got into it, there was no stopping. You tried to accomplish more and more together in the game and playfully scolded each other when someone made a mistake. You had so much fun together that you didn't even realise how much time passed since you started. The sun slowly switched places with the moon and stars appeared on the dark sky one by one. When you noticed the time your were shocked about how long ago you started this game, but you didn't want to go home yet. So at the end you decided to turn this afternoon and evening spent together into a sleepover because you just didn't want to leave your boyfriend's side. Not tonight.

Riwoo

You planned a movie date for the evening at your place. What you didn't calculate with was the huge storm that decided to start right after he arrived and soon the electricity went off in the whole building thanks to that. So the movie date became impossible. You lit some candles to have something light up the place, it actually turned out pretty romantic. You ended up eating all the snacks you guys bought for the movie while waiting for the power to come back. After an hour or two everything went back to normal, the lamp working again, the tv turned on and the internet connection came back. However, Riwoo and you had so much fun doing nothing in the dim lights of the candles that movie night already became forgotten, you didn't want anything else than to just be with, and focus on each other. And maybe a little bit more snacks.

Jaehyun

Jaehyun is a weird guy. Everybody and their mother knows that. Therefore when he plans a date you never know what to expect. But something that you actually didn't expect was for him to put together the most romantic dinner ever known to mankind at his place. He put candles on the table, gave you your favourite flowers and cooked a delicious male by himself (or at least that's what he claimed). When you finished you didn't want to leave yet. It was a gesture that showed you how much he really loves and adores you and you didn't want this moment to end. So you just kept sitting at the table talking, really opening up to each other for hours straight. This was probably the point when both of you realised how serious you are about this relationship. And another thing that you realised that night was that Jaehyun can actually stay calm for more than an hour long.

Taesan

You were at his place, laying in his bed, cuddling. He hugged you so softly but still so close, your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat. It was calm. You made it calm. The same way he calmed you down. At that moment it didn't matter how stressful of a day you've had, how angry you were at the whole world just hours ago. But as soon as you were with him everything seemed to suddenly get better. And there you were, laying down with him as a calm melody was playing on his vinyl player. Words weren't needed in that moment. You were planning to lay there for a few minutes, but minutes soon turned into an hour and then more and more hours. "It's getting late" Taesan whispered to you "shouldn't you go home?" You looked up at him, right into those beautiful eyes of his, and said "right now all I want is to be with you"

Leehan

You know how much Leehan loves watching his fish even for hours straight. At first you didn't understand; how can someone be so entertained by some fish? they're not even doing anything special, just swimming around, how can someone just stare at them non-stop? But it seems like tonight you finally understood. Today was not just long but also really stressful for you and you didn't want anything else than just some comfort so you came over to your boyfriend's. After eating something the two of you just settled in front of his fish tank watching as the little animals swim around in the water. Your head resting on his shoulder, calmly breathing in and out, non of you breaking the silence. You didn't know how much time has passed since you sat down there but honestly, you didn't care. You felt closer to him than ever before, it gave you so much comfort, and all you did was watching some fish in the dim light.

Woonhak

Woonhak LOVES basketball and he also LOVES you so one day he just decided that he's going to teach you how to play. In the late afternoon of a random week day you two went out to the basketball court nearby and started to play together. He thought you a lot, even got carried away to teach you every single trick he knows so much that by the time you were too tired to move anymore the sun has settled, it was dark already. But neither of you wanted to go home so, the caring boyfriend he is, Woonhak put his hoodie on the ground and the two of you laid your heads on it to watch the stars while talking about everything and nothing. Calm moments with him were rare, not that you complained about it, his active personality is one of the reasons why you fell in love with him, but still, you cherished every second spent together with him, even if you are just doing nothing together.

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heart-of-ep · 3 days ago

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Elvis: Through Her Lens (Chapter Three)

(Elvis Presley × OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley

Read More Here: Elvis: Through Her Lens (coming soon)

Prompt: You are Minnie Jones, an aspiring photographer working for the LA Sentinel. Your chief editor is looking for a story that will help boost the popularity of the paper, so an opportunity comes knocking when Colonel Tom Parker approaches him with a new 'snowjob.' After a tentative first meeting with the Colonel, and his star Elvis Presley, you are hired on to follow Elvis around as his personal photographer in an attempt to catch lightening in a bottle twice with the earlier success of the Alfred Wertheimer photos. Along the way, you develop a close bond with Elvis, leading to complications in your relationship when the issues of his marriage and eventual drug usage start to put a strain on your relationship. Constantly fighting your ever-growing feelings for him, you are swept up into the whirlwind of Elvis' world which forces you to see the King of Rock 'n' Roll through a new lens.

Tags: Slow burn. Angst. Drama. Friends to lovers (sort of).

TW: None. Cussing?

Rating: PG-13 (ish) (may get spicy but won't be explicit as I don't enjoy writing smut lol but cursing, possible violence, and infidelity will appear throughout the story)

Word Count: 5.6k

Author's Note: Alright yall, things are starting to kick off with this chapter, and I'm very excited about it. It's quite a bit longer than the previous two chapters so I hope you enjoy!

I have to say, I had a blast researching the Houston Astrodome cause 1970 is a major hyperfixation for me, and I actually learned a lot while looking up all the info for this chapter (and the next 👀) so I'm just gonna be living vicariously through Minnie. 🤭

I apologize in advance for the slow burn nature of this fic, but I promise things will get spicy/angsty soon! ♡

Elvis at the Houston Airport for a press conference on February 25th, 1970.

After reviewing the contract with you, and making sure you were absolutely sure that you still wanted to do it, Pierce had you sign it, hesitating to sign it himself. He was more than a little skeptical of Colonel Tom Parker, which you couldn’t necessarily blame him for. You did your best to reassure him once the two of you left the Hillcrest home.

“Don’t worry, Pierce. The Colonel might be a bit…strange, but Elvis seems interested in the project.” You told him as he drove you back to the office to collect your camera and film before heading home to pack.

“I just can’t put my finger on it, Minn. He just rubs me the wrong way.” Pierce frowned before sighing. “But I suppose Elvis seems nice enough. Though, I wouldn’t fall for his charm. He’s had a fair few scandals involving women he works with.” He pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not worried about Elvis Presley seducing me. For one, he’s married.” You reminded him.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s stopped people in the past.” He said sarcastically.

“Pierce, I’ll be fine. I’ve been around my fair share of charming men, it doesn’t mean I’ll fall for it.” You said, though you secretly knew that Elvis was very different from any other man you’d ever met.

Different and very beautiful.

You shoved the intrusive thought from your mind, refusing to let yourself get hung up on how good looking he was. You weren’t about to be one of many other women who fell for the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. After all, you were there to do a job, and you weren’t going to get distracted along the way.

Once you collected your things from the office, you quickly drove back to your apartment to get your clothes packed. Elvis would be in Houston for at least a week for the Astrodome shows and any of its corresponding press conferences, so you needed to figure out everything to take. And you weren’t familiar with Houston weather which presented a problem of its own. After a while of debating what to bring, you decided to call up your girlfriend, Vivien to get her advice, and quite frankly you just needed someone to talk to about all of this.

“Elvis Presley?!” Vivien practically squealed, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Yes, Elvis Presley.” You said, rolling your eyes as you lifted your suitcase up onto your bed.

“Wait, hold on, Minn. You can’t be serious. I mean, you’re kidding, right?” She asked, sounding skeptical now instead of excited.

You frowned a bit. “Why would I be lying, Viv? Look, it's not a big deal.” You paused for a moment. “Well, it is sort of a big deal, but it’s just a job. A very exciting job, but a job nonetheless.” You explained.

“Just a job? Minn, are you sure you’re not high right now?”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes again. “I know it’s a lot, and I am excited, but I have to keep a leveled head about all of this. I don’t think Elvis wants another screaming girl bothering him.” You pointed out.

“Hm…I suppose you’re right, but this is still a huge deal! God, do you know how much I’ve dreamed about meeting Elvis?” She groaned. “Tell me, does he look just as good in person?” She asked curiously.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to those beautiful blue eyes of his, his soft pouty lips, and that full spirited laugh that made you feel warm inside…you quickly snapped out of your daze before the thought could go any further. “I uh…I didn’t really notice.” You mumbled.

“Sure you didn’t.” You could just hear the smile on her lips.

You sighed. “Can we focus? I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear. Business or casual?”

“Well, you’re not exactly going into the office.” She pointed out. “Besides, you’ll be traveling with Elvis Presley. You have to pack in style.”

You wanted to tell her that it was silly to dress to specifically impress Elvis, but you figured everyone in his company (especially the women) dressed to fit in with his style. You recalled seeing a few photos of Elvis with Priscilla in the paper and remembered how pretty and stylish she looked. But you quickly reminded yourself that you were working as his photographer, nothing else.

“So when are you leaving?” Vivien asked as you pulled out a coat from your closet, the only coat you owned, and folded it up neatly into your suitcase.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed. “Pierce is losing his shit, you know. He thinks this whole thing is going to end up exploding in our face because of that manager, Colonel Parker.” You shook your head as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Pierce always has a stick up his ass.” She reminded you. “Besides, you’ve done celebrity pieces before this. I can’t imagine this will be any different. That is unless you plan on sleeping with him.”

“Viv!” You shot back before shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that telling you about all of this was a bad idea.” You muttered.

“Oh, trust me it wasn’t a bad idea. And you’re going to keep me updated on all of this.” She said as a matter of fact.

You frowned a bit, but realized she was probably right. It’s not like you could talk to Pierce about any of it. You glanced at the clock, sighing when you noticed how late it was already. “Thanks, Viv. I’ll call you once I get settled in at the hotel.”

“Just try and have fun, Minn. I know it’s your job, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

You nodded a bit and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll try. I’ll talk to you later.” You said before hanging up the phone. You sighed and looked over at your suitcase before pushing yourself to finish packing the rest of your clothes, placing your extra packs of film on top.

You had no idea what to expect when you showed up at the airport tomorrow, but you knew it would be the beginning of something new and exciting.

~*~*~

When you showed up at LAX in the morning, after Pierce picked you up from your apartment, you could hardly contain your excitement. “Just think about it, Pierce. We’re going to have photos that no other paper in the world will have. The LA Sentinel will practically fly off the shelves.” You grinned.

“It better, or there won’t be an LA Sentinel.” Pierce muttered. “Just keep your head on straight. And don’t let this Presley fellow distract you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Pierce, you act like I’m just going to bend over the moment I see him.” You shot back. “Elvis Presley might be the world’s biggest flirt, but all I care about is getting the perfect picture.”

“I suppose. I guess if any woman can reject his advances it would be you.” He smirked a bit.

You slapped his arm playfully, smiling again as he parked the car on the private hanger that the Colonel had directed you to meet them at. You were surprised to find out that Elvis didn’t have a private jet, even Frank SInatra had that, but that didn’t stop him from being able to borrow one to fly him and his whole crew to whatever city he needed them in. You looked up at the jet as you stepped out of the car, ignoring the general nerves that attacked you every time you had to fly somewhere, and instead focused on the excitement of the whole situation.

You immediately noticed a couple cars already parked and waiting around the jet, a handful of men that you assumed worked for Elvis standing around waiting for him to arrive while someone loaded the luggage onto the plane. Pierce pulled your suitcase out of the trunk and walked with you over to the group, his gaze immediately searching for any sign of Elvis or the Colonel.

“I don’t think it would be such a bad thing if that Colonel got left behind.” Pierce muttered, and you jabbed him in the ribs, an amused smile crossing your face. You almost wished he was tagging along so you wouldn’t be going completely solo, but you knew you didn’t have much choice. The chief editor couldn’t exactly leave the office for a week. “Looks like Presley has six shows lined up in Houston, so you’re going to be pretty busy, Minn. Remember, we need to get photos that no one else will have.” He reminded me.

You nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.” You smiled confidently.

He nodded and cracked a small smile. “I know you won’t.” He said before clapping me on the shoulder. “Keep your head on straight. Remember, a reporter trusts no one.” You nodded, though you didn’t exactly take that too close to heart. Unlike an official reporter, a photographer was meant to get close to their subject.

You turned your gaze away from Pierce and surveyed the group of men, immediately recognizing a couple of them from Elvis’ house. Charlie, the shorter fellow, was standing around laughing and talking with the other guys and standing close to one of the Cadillacs was an aging gentleman with grey hair and a small mustache. You didn’t recall seeing him at the house, nor did he seem to fit in with the other guys, which struck you as curious.

You only looked away when you heard a car pulling up behind you, glancing back to see the white Cadillac from yesterday coming to a stop. You immediately felt your heart leap in your chest (for some inexplicable reason) and quickly stood up a bit straighter as you clutched the handle of your suitcase. After a moment, the door to the car opened and first stepped out the Colonel, much to Pierce’s dismay, and then the other door opened and out stepped Elvis, glowing and smiling just as he had the day before.

The first thing you noticed was his attire, as it was incredibly different from what he had on the first time you met him. Unlike before, this outfit was anything but casual, and it much more accurately represented the stylish and over the top nature of Elvis’ more recent wardrobe from the International. He wore an all white, karate gi inspired ensemble, with a bright red ruched shirt underneath and around his neck, much like his stage wear, he wore a printed scarf that hid his exposed chest underneath. A karate style belt hung low around his waist, tied at his hip in a knot, pulling the whole outfit together with the clear inspiration. It was really unlike anything you had seen someone wear before, but you resisted the urge to snap a photo too quickly.

When you looked up at Elvis, you noticed he looked a bit more tired than he had yesterday, dark circles under his eyes and a bit of sweat on his brow. You casted him a concerned look, but he smiled through how unwell he seemed and walked over to where you were standing. “Hey, Minnie Mouse.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hello, Elvis.” You said as you shook his outstretched hand before looking at the Colonel as he hobbled up behind him, one of those comical cigars sticking out of his mouth as he approached Mr Pierce to discuss something with him in private. When you looked back at Elvis, he was still staring at you, sending a shiver running down your back. “Um…I’ve never been to Houston before.” You said in an attempt to break the ice.

“I’ve been all over Texas.” He said as he directed me toward the stairs leading up into the plane where the rest of his group was waiting. “I think you’ll like it.” He reassured me.

You glanced back at Pierce, catching his gaze for a moment before you looked forward and smiled as Elvis began introducing you to the different guys. “This is Minnie Jones. She’s a photographer that’s going to be accompanying us on the trip to Houston.” He explained before gesturing to the men. “You met Charlie already at the house. This is Red and Sonny, they work as my bodyguards. Joe, he’s my road manager. Gee Gee, Jerry, and Cliff, they help keep everything running smoothly. And this is Lamar, he’s my lighting technician and a general pain in my ass.” Elvis said, laughing a bit at his own joke, though Lamar didn’t necessarily seem amused. “And this is my father.” He added as he gestured at the older man you had noticed earlier. Now that they were standing next to each other, they looked very similar.

You awkwardly waved hello, doing your best not to seem completely out of place. “I know all of you are probably used to a bit more privacy, but just pretend I’m not even here. That’s what most politicians do before I snap a real embarrassing photo.” You said jokingly.

Elvis laughed out loud, and soon the guys were laughing too (something you noted as interesting) before he just looked at you and smiled. “She’s funny isn't she? Don’t worry, Minnie Mouse. You’ll fit right in.”

You felt a little more at ease, nodding as you followed Elvis up the steps onto the plane, the guys following behind as they carried yours and the rest of his luggage on board. Elvis moved along to his seat towards the back of the plane, and quickly made sure to keep up, clutching tightly onto the strap of your camera bag.

“Have you flown before, honey?” Elvis suddenly asked as he leaned his hand against the carry-on cubbies overhead, looking down at you curiously.

You nodded a bit and looked away, unable to meet his piercing blue gaze. “A few times, yeah. Though it doesn’t really get any less scary.” You admitted before opening your camera bag. “You don’t mind, do you?” You asked, trying to be courteous regardless of why you were there.

He smirked a bit. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He teased you before he slipped down into his chair, crossing his leg over the other as he looked out the window.

You watched him for a moment as he leaned on his elbow, chewing on his fingernails as his leg bounced up and down in what seemed to be a nervous tick. You checked to make sure there was film in your camera before raising the lens to snap a photo, smiling a bit at just how human he looked. “Does everyone know that the king of rock ‘n’ roll bites his nails?” You asked as you sat down next to him.

He snorted, turning his gaze back toward you. “There’s a lot of things people don’t know about me.” He said vaguely.

You raised an eyebrow at him before sighing. “I bite my nails, too.” You said after a moment. “Bad habit I’ve had since I was a kid.” You shrugged as you showed him your nails.

He viewed your hand, chuckling a bit before he held out his own hand. “I guess we have at least one thing in common, Minnie Mouse.” He smirked a bit.

You smiled, already feeling less nervous. Something about being so close to him just made the unease inside of you disappear. You raised your camera again, snapping another photo of just his hand before you took the opportunity to look at the rings that decorated his fingers. A beautiful golden ring sat over his pinky finger, engraved with an intricate embossing and set with a glimmering black sapphire gem while another gold ring in the shape of a lion head sat next to it on his other finger. Dangling across his wrist hung an ID bracelet (once more in gold) with his name encrusted in diamonds along the band, somehow looking perfectly sensible on him and not at all gaudy.

You looked away when you suddenly felt the plane start to move, your nerves instantly returning as you grabbed hold of the arm rest instinctively. You chewed on your lower lip as you sunk back into your seat, but then you felt something warm settle over your hand. You looked down, swallowing a bit when you saw Elvis’ hand now resting softly over yours, the cold metal of his rings grazing over the top of your fingers.

“It’s okay, honey. As long as I’m here, nothin’ bad will happen.” He said, and from the look in his eyes, you believed him. You believed he could somehow control the weather and ensure a safe flight all the way to Houston. You ignored the flutter in your chest and the way his touch sent electricity running up your arm, and instead just focused on the warmth of his hand as the plane took off, suddenly feeling a lot less terrified.

The rest of the flight ended up being rather uneventful, and once you were up in the air, Elvis had let go of your hand and went to chat with the other guys about the upcoming shows and the press conference planned for later that day. You were glad for the space, unsure of how to feel about the weird feeling he had left you with, and focused on snapping some photos from your seat. It surprised you to see how relaxed he seemed, even with a camera around. You assumed he was probably used to it by now.

When you arrived in Houston, you could practically see the excitement radiating off of Elvis as he found his way back to his seat. “You alright, honey?” He asked as the pilot started to descend for landing.

You nodded, thankful for his presence next to you as you rested your hands on the arm rests. “What about you? This is your first time performing outside of Vegas isn’t it?”

He sighed, glancing out the window at the city below. “Yeah, it is.” He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure what to expect.” He admitted. “What if nobody shows up? Vegas is a helluva lot different.”

“You’re Elvis Presley. People will show up.” You said as a matter of fact. “Besides, I’m pretty excited to see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” You teased him.

He relaxed a little, smiling as he looked at you. “Thank you, Minnie Mouse.” He said before once again holding your hand as the plane hit a few bumps in the air.

Once the plane finally landed, you were happy to have your feet firmly on the ground and breathing some fresh air that didn’t smell of Elvis’ musky cologne, which you definitely didn’t notice while sitting with him. You followed him down onto the tarmac, and from a distance you could see a large group of fans that had already gathered nearby at the small terminal in an attempt to see Elvis up close and personal.

“I thought we were going somewhere, man.” He said with a grin as he waved at them before his bodyguards led him toward the airport terminal with his father, Vernon, and the Colonel following closely behind.

Waiting inside the airport were several reporters and photographers from different news outlets where a press conference was set up. You stood off to the side, watching as Elvis sat down at a table to answer their questions. He did it with ease, and it quickly dawned on you how natural he was at speaking, despite his stutter and the nervous way that he coughed and joked through some of his responses. It was charming and instantly made him feel a lot more personable.

Once he finished, he snapped a few photos with the Mayor who had come to welcome him to Houston before he was whisked off to a car waiting out front to take him to the hotel. The Colonel and Vernon accompanied the two of you with one of the guys driving while the rest took a separate vehicle. On the ride there, you tried not to pay attention to the way the Colonel seemed to be watching you like a hawk, squirming a little in your seat at the heavy air that hung in the car. During the flight you noticed just how little Elvis seemed to talk to his manager. Whenever you overheard a conversation between them, it was always about business, and even now, Elvis made no attempt to start a conversation.

Needless to say, you were thankful when you were finally able to check-in at the hotel, already exhausted from the day of travel. Elvis made sure everyone got a room a floor down from his penthouse suite to make things easier, but when you took your hotel key and started walking toward the elevator, you felt Elvis’ hand around your wrist.

“Wait up, Minnie Mouse.” He directed his smile down at you as he flicked his wrist at Charlie. “Charlie, take her luggage up to her room.” He said, his gaze fixated on you. “It ain’t too late yet. Why don’t you come up to my room?”

You swallowed, the invitation feeling far too intimate, even if you logically knew it didn’t mean anything. For some reason, though, the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your back, his fingers still softly gripping your wrist as he waited for a response.

“Well, honey?” He asked softly.

Damn it, Minn. Just say no.

You stared at him for a long moment. “Sure.” You heard yourself say, barely even recognizing your own voice.

Jesus Christ, this is a huge mistake.

You weren’t entirely sure what had come over you, or why you decided to say yes, but before you could even process what was happening, you were standing in the middle of Elvis’ lavish suite while he sent one of his guys to grab the two of you dinner from downstairs. You didn’t hear what he ordered, but right now you couldn’t exactly focus on anything, least of all food. You folded your arms across your chest, chewing on your nails as you instantly thought of everything that could possibly go wrong.

Calm down. He’s just having dinner with you.

Logic told you that you were probably right, but you weren’t about to forget who it was that had invited you upstairs for dinner. You remembered what Pierce had said about his reputation, causing you to pace a little as you waited near the sofa. He was probably just being courteous, and knowing Elvis, he couldn’t exactly go downstairs and have dinner in public without causing a commotion. But the lack of anyone else being present in his suite made you worry that this was just his way of trying to make a move on you, his marriage be damned.

You glanced across the room, watching as Charlie left the room to go pick up the food before Elvis shut the door behind him. In that moment, you resolved to keep your chin up and not allow his charm to instantly disarm you.

He’s just a man. A very beautiful and charming man, but just a man.

When he turned your way and walked over, his long strides closed the space between you in seconds, leaving you a bit flustered when he suddenly stopped in front of you. “You can sit down if you want, honey.” He said, gesturing to the sofa.

You glanced at the lush piece of furniture and simply shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m still a bit stiff from the flight.” You said as you folded your arms. “What did you order?” You asked after a moment.

He smiled. “Steak. It seems to be the only good thing they’ve got on the menu.” He said before sinking down onto the sofa and crossing his leg over the other. “You seem nervous, honey.” He noted, looking me up and down with one sweep of those brilliant blue eyes.

You frowned a bit. “Well, a married man invited me up to his suite for dinner, alone. Most women might be a bit nervous.” You pointed out.

His expression shifted a little. “Miss Jones…I-I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” He said, suddenly the southern gentleman you had met a couple days prior. “It’s not exactly easy for me to find privacy outside of my room. I just thought this would give us an opportunity to talk a bit more.” He explained.

You felt yourself blush a little out of embarrassment, realizing you had definitely miscalculated his intentions. “Oh…I’m sorry, Elvis. I just thought…” You trailed off, quickly shaking your head before you decided to sit down next to him on the sofa. “I guess I’m not used to men having manners.” You smirked a bit.

He chuckled, glad to see you relax a little. “You’re a smart girl, Minnie Mouse.”

You smiled a little. “You must be excited.” You said, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone seemed pretty amped up at the press conference.”

He nodded. “This is the make or break moment, honey. If these shows fail…” He whistled as he made a downward motion with his hand. “Fourteen years shot to hell.”

You furrowed your brow a bit. “Why do you think they’d fail?” You hadn’t seen Elvis perform live, but you also knew that he was an absolute powerhouse. After all, this man was able to captivate audiences all over America for more than a decade through the silver screen. And the NBC TV Special was a raving success. You remembered Vivien forcing you to sit down and watch it with her when it aired. Needless to say, you couldn’t picture him failing at anything.

You watched his brow furrow a bit, as if he was contemplating what to say. “What if I just can’t bring it in like I used to?” He finally said, shaking his head as his leg started to bounce up and down in that little nervous tick of his. “There’s a lot of folks out there listenin’ to all kinds of music now. What if I just can’t shake it anymore?” He looked at you, surprising you a little with the vulnerability in his eyes.

You bit your lip for a second before sighing as you reached over and touched his hand. “Elvis, I can’t sit here and tell you what will happen, but I do know that you’re one of the most loved and adored stars in the world. I mean, my best friend just about fainted when I told her I was going to be working with you.” You smiled at him. “Trust me, you can still bring it in. Besides, I know I’m pretty excited to see my first Elvis Presley show.”

He seemed to relax a little, a boyish smile crossing his lips. “I’ll make sure I give you one hell of a performance.” He winked.

You laughed a little before looking over your shoulder when you heard a knock at the door followed by Charlie walking in. “That must be the food.”

“Better be a damn good steak. I’m starvin’.” He grinned before getting up and walking over to see the food that had been brought back.

Once we had our food and gotten the chance to eat, the rest of the night went by like a blur. You found yourself talking to him about the most mundane things, whether it be your frustration of being stuck taking photos of politicians, or the fact that living alone in LA definitely wasn’t all it cracked up to be. He listened to everything you had to say, his focus solely on you the entire time. You couldn’t recall ever having a man give you so much attention, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It left you with this strange feeling that you didn’t really want to acknowledge yet.

Elvis also opened up about his life, giving you the background of how he started out in Tupelo and then moved to Memphis as a teen before eventually beginning his rise to fame at Sun Studios. The way he recounted it felt like he was explaining something that had just happened yesterday, and he really seemed proud over his earlier success during the fifties. It was only when he began talking about his movies that his tone soured. He didn’t completely dismiss them, admitting that even his movies had fans, but he knew that he was capable of doing more. He wanted to do more. But he didn’t linger on the topic, deciding once again to speak about something he was proud of as he brought up his success with the NBC TV Special and his debut in Las Vegas.

“I missed the contact with a live audience.” He explained. “The electricity you get from performing in front of an audience…it’s like nothin’ else.” He said as he sat back against the cushions of the sofa.

You smiled as you curled up on the other end of the sofa, folding your knees up against your chest as you watched him. There was a glimmer of excitement that twinkled in his eyes whenever he talked about his music or performing. You could tell he loved it, and you knew he just wanted to give his fans the best that he had. It was so earnest and so real, something you hadn’t really experienced with any other celebrity that you had met.

“Well, I have a feeling you’ll blow their socks off.” You teased him before reaching over and grabbing your camera off the table. You raised the lens, snapping a photo of that little smile on his lips before he made a funny face for the camera and you snapped a photo of that too. “I think that one is worthy of the front page.” You giggled.

“Nah, honey, second page at best.” He smirked, but the smile slowly fell from his lips and he regarded you with a long look that took you off guard. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You bit your lip before nodding. “Of course.” You sat up a little straighter.

He looked you up and down, his blue eyes surveying you carefully as he leaned his cheek against his fist, his other hand drumming its fingers against his knee. “You said you weren’t really a fan before, so why did ya take the job? Ain’t a photographer supposed to feel passionate about their subject?” He asked curiously.

His question struck you as odd, but you figured he probably did have a point. And the more you thought about it, you weren’t sure why you had been so drawn toward saying yes. Aside from the obvious reason for progressing your career, you had never really thought much about Elvis Presley prior to Pierce’s proposition. But something about him drew you in. You just knew that it wasn’t an opportunity that you could pass up.

You were silent for a long moment, and you could sense his growing impatience as his fingers started tapping faster against his leg. “I guess it just felt like the right thing to do.” You said quietly, looking down as you fiddled with your hands. “You changed the world, Elvis. I just figured it was time the world saw the real you, whatever that may be.” You shrugged.

Something flashed in his eyes, disappearing far too quickly for you to register what it was, before he laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “Damn, Minnie Mouse. Are ya sure you ain’t a poet or somethin’?”

You smiled as you relaxed a little. “I did ace English in high school.” You joked before you glanced at the clock and saw what time it was already. “Shit…it’s almost three in the morning!” You said as you quickly stood up. He looked up at you, clearly not seeing the issue in that. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, or how inappropriate it was that you were alone with a married man for several hours in the middle of the night.

“You’re not leavin’ are you?” He asked as he stood up, taking a step toward you.

You bit your lip before sighing. “Elvis, it’s late. We’ve both had a long day.” You said in an attempt to reason with him.

He pressed his lips together, but he relented and took a step back. “You're comin’ to rehearsals tomorrow.” It wasn't a question. “Just make sure you're ready, honey.” He said before leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You blushed, your heart skipping a beat as the sensation of his soft lips sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don't worry, I won't miss it for the world.” You said quietly as you looked up at him before quickly stepping past and walking to the door.

“Goodnight, Minnie Mouse.” You heard him call from behind you. You paused at the door, looking back at him for a moment and smiling a bit as you caught the boyish grin that flashed across his face.

“Goodnight, Elvis.”

You weren't entirely sure how you even made it back to your room, feeling so deliriously tired, but also so…happy. It was a strange feeling, and you didn't really want to acknowledge the reason why you were feeling that way. But as you fell asleep in your plush bed, all you could see in your dreams was the warm smile on his lips or his ocean blue eyes that were deep enough to swim in.

Yes, you were certainly delirious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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freeluigihesbae · 24 hours ago

Text

𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂

summary: a young dean winchester is wandering the woods, hopeless, until he encounter a young angel, whose he name he learns has an enchanting ring: castiel novak

pairing: dean winchester x castiel novak --- destiel!

vibes: angst, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, john is a great dad lol, pain, romantic tension, a very sad dean, a very needed castiel :)

a/n: i will do more parts if enough people are interested. please imagine dawson creek! jensen playing dean and charmed! misha collins as castiel. two young boys but destiel <3

"Dean, c'mon, please don't do this. I'm your brother. You can't just push me away like this." Sam is trailing behind Dean, storming out of the door with haste. Sam tries to catch up, throwing his hand out to catch his older brother, but Dean simply shakes out of his grasp before turning to look back the younger one.

"Will you be okay? With Dad and all?" Dean stares hard, tears hiding behind his eyes, but not coming out. Dean controls it, unwilling to let his weakness show in front of his little brother.

Sam is taller than him, but those innocent eyes make him small. Dean will never stop seeing his little brother for the baby he is and was. He remembers those beautiful, almond eyes he was blessed to look into when his mom handed Sam to his arms.

He looks the same, but this time, there's more pain. Fear, knowing Dean would leave.

But what Dean didn't know was how Sam was worried sick for his brother, and whether he could handle himself.

"I'll be fine, Dean. But what about-" The door slams shut and Sam is left alone before he feels a tear run down his face.

"-you?" Sam whispers it out, reaching out to touch the doorknob and feel the dirt left from Dean's fingers, wishing he could hold his brother in his arms.

Dean listens intently, taking note of how the branches crunch under his feet and every now and then, poke his face as he walks through the aimless woods.

Aimless. Useless.

That's how he views everything. He's convinced that everything that looks so methodical and put-together is a lie because everything good, he knows, is a result of some screw-up that's already happened.

Which means, if un-luck has struck once, it will always strike again. It's just a matter of when.

Exhaustion threatens to overtake him and Dean feels ashamed. He's supposed to be a hunter, strong and hot-headed in the face of struggle and death, which could be looking him in the eye until he realized it. It was all good, but once he came home, everything shattered. There was always something he didn't do right - his dad always found a reason to insult Dean, call him names and tell him things no man should hear.

Sometimes, Dean didn't want to be seen as a man. Sometimes, he wanted someone to see him as a little boy. The little one who has taken the world atop his shoulder, trying to shield his little brother who is now, inevitably, dragged into the horrors of the world. The little one who didn't understand why his mom was dead. The little one who was cursed to realize that a kind father was only a demon.

His home is his failure and continuously recognizing it felt like someone through a rock at his frail willpower. There were only so many hard truths Dean could handle and everyday, as if staring at the one he was forever stuck to, John, the other things were too much.

Dean loved Sam. He loved his little brother more than himself but he knew that Sam would always be small, young, and more innocent than himself.

Who was going to take care of Dean?

Strangely, there was a sense of being orphan that Dean felt. There was no-one to look down upon him in age or experience to hold his face, stare into his eyes, and say I'm here for you.

There was no temporary gratification that would fill the void John had created. It didn't matter if the girls in school liked him because they would only mean something if his father loved him first. If someone loved him, that meant he'd have to love himself first to understand why.

Even though Dean stared into the mirror, sometimes hours on end, into those green, round eyes which had seen blood and baths of them, he'd failed to see how his skin was still ever-so youthful, glowing with an earnest yearning to be more. To see more. To be loved more. It was all he needed, Dean; a simple hand to hold his glistening skin and press down on his beautiful lips, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

Dean did not want to be liked. Dean wanted to be loved. He wanted to be someone's soulmate.

That was exactly why Dean refused to believe that heaven was real. How could God let him suffer like this, when the only mistake he'd ever made was being born?

How could God ever let Dean think that was a mistake when he never asked for this life in the first place?

~ Dean slumps over the tree trunk, ignoring its piercing bark as he rests his head down, taking solace in the cool, comforting rain drops which merely feel like mist on his skin. The innocent routine of the forest hugs Dean like a distant lover, faintly reminding him of the basic kindness everyone is entitled to.

Uninterrupted solitude.

Dean runs is fingers over the bark, smiling when he realizes how much less alone he feels. His drag over the long, helpless, and dead tree he's leaning on, feeling much like it now. Sad, helpless, and emotionally dead.

The older Winchester feels old, so impossibly old that he'd stare at someone in shock if they told him he was just 18 and had at least 60 years ahead of him. Dean didn't want all those years if it meant they'd be the same because he knew they'd be the same.

Dean was monotony's poster boy. He was a pin-up model that all the crying souls could look upon and feel less alone. Dean was everything for everyone that mattered to him, but he wanted someone to hold him in his arms and tell him that he, too, was a just a boy. Dean wanted to feel like a little boy for a day, one who was still believing in angels and the ability to fly above and away from the Earth.

Even if it wouldn't happen for real, he wanted to be able to soar through an ocean of stars and feel like he was walking in Heaven.

"I wish angels were real." Dean speaks into the empty, cold expanse of the woods, allowing a sob to slip past his lips when the daunting truth of being alone overtakes his initial happiness. Nature could only extend so much kindness, because afterwards, it would only remain a distant lover, watching with indifference no matter what Dean chose to do.

If Dean chose to die in this moment, Nature would let him do so.

Dean curls into a ball, mirroring a fetus as he felt like the forgotten child he always had been, wondering how agonizing it was to be a forgotten child. He didn't deserve love, he figured, allowing the mud to seep into his hair as he carelessly dug himself into the ground. He did deserve death and that's when he cursed the said God above him for being incompetent.

God couldn't do that one thing right, could he?

"God doesn't have a gender." A voice speaks softly behind Dean, but it startles him deeply, paying no heed as his arm lashed out and he's immediately on his feet, ready to throw himself at whatever creature is about to hurt him.

But to his surprise, he sees a boy. One that looks just like himself: innocent. Except he's a bit short, an awkward yet enrapturing gummy smile that could cure his darkened voids, and kind yet comforting hands that Dean doesn't even realize are on his shoulder until the boy's eyes are closer to his own.

Dean gasps as the boy's fingers touch his hair, wiping away at the dirt that has wormed itself between the long strands. The Winchester is left dumbfounded, confused yet allured by the devastatingly illuminated blue/gray eyes staring at his tainted body.

"I'm so dirty." Dean finds himself cracking the instant his lips part, when what he should be doing is pushing the boy away, asking what he's doing here and perhaps, killing him. The boy could be a demon, a vamp, or worse.

But Dean can't bring himself to ignore the warmth that seems to tingle as the boy's fingers run down his skin, healing the pain littered on every inch of his skin. There's a medicine dripping from those angelic fingers, Dean thinks, as his thoughts of death and despair are slowly replaced by ones of hope and wonder.

"You wished for an angel, did you not?" The boy now stares into his eyes, kind yet beautifully concerned. Dean furrows his eyebrows, wondering it's possible for those words to exist in the same distance. Licking his lips, Dean shakes his head no.

"I don't believe in angels or God." Dean's voice tremors as he quietly basks in the hands resting on his shoulder, unmoving but keeping him grounded. "You wished for an angel, Dean, when you were crying on the tree trunk. You said 'I wish angels were real.'" The boy now tilts his head, staring ever-so slightly up at Dean whose eyes, still letting residual tears fall, are now widened.

"H-How do you know my name?" His lower lip wobbles, scared. Dean is too exhausted to fight, so if this boy is just a demon manipulating the broken, reluctantly flexible lack of will Dean is cursed with in the moment, he doesn't care. He's ready to die.

"I'm an angel, Dean. You don't need to prepare yourself to die, either, because I'm here to save you." The boy's right hand start to wandering, tracing over healing scars Dean still sports on his neck and to Dean's horror, the pain still left over from them slowly dissipates into an unfamiliar nothingness - he feels relief, a feeling so rare Dean moves to pinch himself.

Both hands rush to stop Dean's fingers from moving.

"It's real Dean. You're so beautiful, you know?" The boy now smiles gently, tracing shapes on Dean's cheek before running it over his lips and wiping away old, rusty blood. "What's your n-name?" Dean asks hesitantly, unable to process the sensations and the mere vision standing in front of him.

"Castiel. Castiel Novak. And from now on, I'm your guardian angel." The boy, well, Castiel, takes a deep breath in before stepping away and Dean leans forward, instinctively missing the angel's touch.

"W-Wait-" Dean's plead spills from his lips and Castiel tilts his head to the side. Dean wants to tell him to step closer and crush him in a hug. Dean is desperate to get on his knees and beg Castiel to just crash their lips together.

"H-How do I-I know you're an angel? What i-if you're a demon and you're just here t-to hurt me?" Dean feels light-headed at just the thought of the being in front of him being a lie, like everything else in his life.

"Pull my finger." Castiel holds his finger out and Dean stares down and back up at the angel's face, seemingly immune to Dean's confusion. "What?" Dean asks, confused, still thinking he's in a dream.

"You're not in a dream Dean. So, my finger. Pull it." Castiel nods his head, stepping forward to emphasize his words and Dean feels giddiness flutter throughout his body, a youthful sense of hope making his finger shake as he reaches up to touch it.

"Pl-" "Stop thinking Dean. Let me take care of you." Castiel's voice comes out commanding, making Dean shiver, but there is an undeniable sense of care in its tone, making Dean pull the angel's finger before he can think.

"Why don't we go and talk about this somewhere only we know?" Castiel's smile shines impossibly bright as Dean's vision goes white and the next thing he knows, the world he sees is no longer the one he knew.

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yanderedrabbles · 1 day ago

Note

How about if the reader (that's us) were Samara Morgan (from the movie The Ring)?

Y'know what, I can see it. Chronically online loser boy with a fixation on horror manages to obtain an old VCR tape that's supposedly cursed. When it comes, he's practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. He went to the thrift shop all on his own to get a VCR to watch it on and everything!

When he pops the tape in, all that excitement drains away. He was expecting something spectacularly creepy, something he could brag to his buddies on r/GenuinelyHauntedGoodies about. Instead it's just a low quality tape with shitty b-roll and bad sound.

When the phone rings the second the tape ends, he assumes it's the pizza guy getting lost again.

"I told you, it's Elm Street. Not Eve-"

"Seven days..." Your voice is scratchy with static and his heart jumps in his chest.

"Yo, I think you've got the wrong numb-"

Click.

For someone so into horror, he's real slow to pick up on the signs in his own life. Nightmares about a well and a dead girl? He just had too much Mountain Dew before bed. Doors creaking in the middle of the night? Must be the humidity messing with the hinges. The guy who sold him the tape calling him in a panic two days before his obituary shows up in the paper? Weird, but definitely a coincidence.

It's only when the tape starts playing on its own that he starts to get a little sketched out. It's probably just the VCR being old and stuff, right? He forces the tape out of the slot and the screen goes black. See? Just the side effects of old, obsolete technology. He's halfway out the door before he hears it.

Click.

He freezes. He can hear the static again, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet. He turns and there you are, getting closer and closer to the screen, your dress soaked and sticking to your skin.

Holy shit. Holy. SHIT. Haunted dead girl and she's a total babe.

When you put your palms on the glass and start pushing your way into the real world, he almost can't believe his luck. It's finally happening! A genuine haunting! He's been waiting for years.

You expect him to scream, to run away, to start praying to a God he only half believes in. Instead he squats down so you're on eye level and asks...

"Can you do the back bend thing from the Exorcist? 'Cause I think that would be like so hot."

You growl, throat still waterlogged. He tuts and waves the tape in front of your face.

"Full words babe. You want to keep haunting people right? Want to get back to your cozy little well?"

He looks you over and can barely believe you're real. A hot girl on her knees is his living room? Hell fucking yeah!

"Listen up hot stuff. You do what I say and I won't crush your little tape into dust, 'kay? I'll even let you keep killing people in your spare time, if it's that important to you."

You blink. What is wrong with this guy? You've seen plenty of coping mechanisms, but this is just taking the piss.

He gets impatient waiting for you to answer. "Fine. If you want to do things the hard way..."

He stands and brings the tape down on the edge of the coffee table. Hard. The plastic cracks right along the centre and small black chips scatter across the room.

You flinch and pull backwards. He follows you, opposite edges of the tape in each hand like he wants to snap it straight in half.

"What do you say gorgeous? We got a deal?"

There are some things not even a ghost is equipped to deal with.

"Fine," you rasp, "Deal."

"Sweet!" He shoves the tape in his back pocket. "Now about the back bend thing..."

The world is full of freaks and horrors. And you make the mistake of thinking you're the only one.

[What popped into my head when I read the ask]

#r/genuinely haunted goodies is not an actual subreddit (at least i hope not)#Total shitpost #Thanks for the slightly unhinged ask anon #There's a serious story somewhere in that prompt #I might try and find it eventually #Yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere blog #yandere thoughts

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little-fae-hero · 1 day ago

Note

I got a prompt that might be fun. One of the other members of the chain puts on the Feirce Diety mask. Maybe Wind because I think the chain would have an interesting reaction to seeing their youngest hero turn into something taller than Time.

Wind and the Fierce Deity. 2143 words.

I really enjoyed this prompt, it was a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy it, warning for slight horror and Yiga's dying.

The Sailor does not know the meaning of privacy in their group, I mean it made sense, originally he grew up sharing everything with his little sister Aryll, and then he was on board a pirate ship for his next two adventures. It didn’t take long for the little rag tag group to realize that to Wind, anything was fair game.

Now despite that, there were talks and compromises, Wind got better at respecting people’s stuff, asking before he would go snooping. Some like Legend warned against touching his stuff because you never know what’s cursed, Hyrule however always allowed Wind to look, happily explaining all his items.

The exception to this seemed to be Time, the oldest hero seemingly had no problem letting Wind rifle through his stuff. Whether it be his masks, his weapons, even his potion supply, he happily let the young hero look through his stuff only really stopping to warn if something was dangerous.

There was one thing that broke that pattern.

Wind was going through Time’s bag yet again, he was trying to find the bunny hood that allowed you to move faster, he wanted to race Legend and he wanted to win. The younger boy just kept digging and eventually hit something that was different. The sailor pulled it out, it was something wrapped in a fabric and a chain. Of course the chain did not deter Wind, his lock picking skills made quick work of the chain, finally allowing him to unwrap the object.

It was a mask, a wooden one, and it looked alot like Time. The same face, even the shape of the eyes was the same. The stark contrast was that the frame of the face was a pale white, like the few streaks that Time had, and tattoos while some were the same as Time, these covered the mask, mirroring the other side perfectly. Wind found himself tracing the slice through the room that ran across the mask's right eye, the same one the eldest hero had.

The mask was yanked out of Wind’s hand so far to the point it nearly left a friction burn on the youngest hero. Wind looked up to see Time glaring down at him, he had always heard the Rancher talking about the oldest hero’s glare, now he knew what he meant. Wind wanted to crawl into a hole as Time’s bluish green eye and white eye glared down at him.

“Don’t touch it.” Time practically growled out, it was very clear it wasn’t a suggestion but an order.

The older hero wrapped up the mask again and stuffed it in a bag. Time went back to whatever he was doing, Wind was silent, quickly going to War’s side and staying close by him till they eventually set down camp. Wind eventually went up to Twilight as he was closest to the leader, and asked him about the strange mask.

“It’s a failsafe, he says it’s very dangerous, dark magic. I have no idea why he bothers to keep it.” Twilight informed. Wind nodded as he absorbed the information, a failsafe of dark magic, of course Time didn’t want him near it.

Wind eventually pushed the mask out of his mind as they went on with their adventure.

Then the Yiga struck.

The group had been attacked by the horrible black blooded monsters, they all had wounds from that fight, and then the Yiga, the traitors from Wild’s world showed up, an ambush. The group was already running off fumes, many were injured, it was the worst time. Wind had seen Time reach into his bag, quickly pulling out the forbidden mask; however, before the older hero could actually use it, he was struck in the head by one of the blademasters. Twilight took care of that enemy, yet Wind's mind was made once he saw the mask go flying.

Wind quickly ran over to the fallen mask, ignoring all the other enemies as he quickly picked it up.

“Wind? NO!” Time’s voice screamed out as the young child put on the mask.

There was a flash and then…silence…no there was music.

Wind opened his eyes, he wasn’t on the battlefield anymore, his brothers and the yiga were nowhere to be seen. Instead it was a beautiful grassy field with a clear blue sky, in the sea of grass there was one big tree, not big enough to be the great Deku tree but still pretty big. Wind looked around, there was nothing else, so he just ran up to the tree, the only source of life.

As Wind got closer, he saw a figure, the source of music. He was hidden in the shadows of the tree, his white hair covering most of his face, as he plucked the strings of an instrument that kind of looked like Sky’s harp but not really. It didn’t even occur to Wind that this figure might not be friendly until he stepped on a branch producing a snap, and the figure head snapped to face him.

Fear pooled in Wind’s gut as the man, no, whatever that creature was slowly got up, crawling to get up you could hear his bones snapping, the monster's white eyes never leaving Wind’s. The man’s face was covered in red and blue marking, his mouth parted into a shark teeth filled smile. The horns that sprout from the man’s head cured into a pointed crown.

“Another thief? I thought those soldiers had learned their lesson. No matter, I never reject the gifts given to me.” The man said before he held out a hand. Wind could see the fingers were blackened, as if they were dying.

Wind let out a gasp, his heart, his very soul felt like they were trying to be ripped out of his chest. He clutched his chest, glaring at the man as he slowly saw stands of energy being ripped away from him. Wind gritted his teeth, and summoned his strength to grab his sword to swing it at the man.

The man jumped back, as if seemingly shocked. He slowly took another step forward, this time the energy that formed around the man’s hand was a bluish green. The man smiled before he let out a laugh.

“You're one of the hero’s spirits, like the little changeling.” The man said before bowing. “Apologize little one.”

“W-who are you?” Wind stuttered.

“I go by many names, the Fierce Deity, the Oni however you, the ones who carry the hero spirit. You may call me Kishin.” The man, Kishin said. “Why have you put on my mask little hero, I doubt it was to free me.”

“The battle! How lon-?” Wind started to say.

“Time moves differently here, you don’t need to worry about what’s going on out there. I want answers.” Kishin said.

“Our group, we were attacked and then ambushed. We’re running on little energy, the others, someone needs to take out the yiga.”Wind said, causing Kishin to ponder for a second.

“So you need a protector? I can do that.” Kishin said as his form shifted, the once loose and flowy clothing replaced with hard armor, his white hair was pulled back into a braid. Even his face seemed to sharpen, drawing attention to his razer teeth. “How many will I be protecting?”

“8, all heroes like me.” Wind explained.

“That’s not possible, she shattered his soul but that many pieces….” Kishin muttered as his eyes widened. “Let me take control and see.”

Kishin stepped forward to grab Wind, however the boy took a step back before he spoke again. “No, not until you promise not to hurt them.”

“I wouldn’t-, fine, I swear to you that no harm will come to your companions while I possess your body, only your enemies.” Kishin swore as he held out his hand, still looking dead. “I swear to you, as a god bound in a mask.”

Wind was unsure before he thought about the battle, his brothers hurt barely just surviving. Whatever price the young hero had to pay; it would be worth it to save his brothers.

Wind took the god’s hand.

Time watched in horror as Wind took the mask and quickly placed it on his face. The boy could only let out a quick scream before a flash of light and lightning struck the ground, causing everyone to turn to head as to not be blinded. The light finally died down, allowing the others to finally look at the boy, well boy wasn’t the right word anymore.

“What the hell!” Legend yelled out as he finally laid his eyes on where Wind once stood.

Where Wind once was, was now a man, easily over eight feet tall. Wind’s once sandy blond hair was now a pure white, in similar waves to Wind’s own hair. His face now adorned with markings like Time’s, just as sharp and pointed. The outfit was still the blue of Wind’s shirt, but not more of a robe; beautiful embroidered, silver armor peaked out under the robe.

“That…that’s a god…” Sky muttered. He had only seen the aura of divinity once before in Demise, and then he had been too angry to do anything other than stab the demon.

“A god.” A yiga member laughed. “Truly these parlor tricks will do you no-”

The yiga words were cut off by his head being torn from his body. In a flash Wind had moved from his spot, now ever the yiga holding his head by the hair before dropping it with a thud. Wind turned to look at all the yiga behind their upside down mask, the sound of bones cracking and shifting filled the silent air. Wind mouth spread open revealing the razor sharp teeth, gleeful at the prey.

Then the carnage began.

Wind moved way too fast, the yiga tried to run away or some tried to fight against him. Either way it wasn’t a fair fight. As Wind took care of the yiga, the heroes watched in stunned silence.

“That’s a god, that mask held a god?” Sky asked.

“I thought you toss that thing into death mountain years ago?” War said, a shiver going down his spine. He always hated that mask even when little Sprite wore it during the war.

“Should we do something?” Hyrule asked, but the fear was clear in his voice.

“What could we possibly do?” Four counters.

“Time, what should we do?...Time?..Old man?” Twilight tried to ask, yet Time didn’t say anything. He just stared at the god that is currently mowing down the yiga, his eyes filled with a familiar fear.

As the last Yiga fell, Time finally got to his feet and walked towards the god. Wind stared down at the corpse of a yiga, the plants withering and dying around the god’s feet.

“Give him back.” Time said, the fear was gone in his voice. “Sailor, are you in there?”

The god looked at Time shaking his head ‘no’, as his eyes shifted, the once pools of white became ripples of blue greens that shifted out, leaving only a white pupil. The god looked over the group, his expression shifting to sadness.

“He..he wasn’t lying…nine pieces…” The god muttered as he glanced down at his hands. “Was she trying to erase him from existence?”

“Kishin, let him go!” Time ordered, yet the god didn’t react.

“Hylia, how dare you sister, I left him in your care and yet you maim his soul.” Kishin said, clenching his fist enough to draw blood. “I should slay you for harming what is mine.”

“He isn’t yours! Let him go!” Time yelled out, finally enough to get Kishin's attention.

“He’s mine! The hero spirit is always mine!” Kishin screamed.

As the god was distracted with his anger, Time lunged forward and grabbed the side of the god’s face, his fingers digging into the flesh of the god.

“No!” The god screamed out as the sound of flesh ripping silenced the group.

The mask was thrown away, now a weak and pale Wind was resting in Time’s arms. Time quickly glanced over the boy’s face, fearfully looking for any hint of the god’s markings on the child’s face. Thankfully there were none, he knew he shouldn’t have panicked, it took years wearing the mask before it tried to take him over but he never knew if would jump the possession after sitting for so long. Time was able to see the boys close by mask in his vision.

“No! Don’t touch it!” Time yelled out. “He’ll compel you to put it on, I’ll handle the monster. But right now Wind needs us.”

The others nodded and ran up surrounding the weak pale boy.

Of course, Wind was pale and weak, he gave his body to nature and death itself.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe au #lu au #fae lu au #lu fierce deity #fierce diety #lu time #lu wind #fae writing #fae answers #request done #request open

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