#i usually give the cookies to my friends. i don't have friends i'd want to give them to this year. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

togegiri · 3 months

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✎ᝰ ❛ THIS SWEETNESS IS JUST MADE FOR YOU ❜ — yuuta okkotsu. toge inumaki. megumi fushiguro. yuuji itadori.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ content. The many woe's of being inlove is valentines day, so what kind of sweet treat do they make for you?

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warnings. gender neutral reader. you/your and they/them pronouns is used. (name) will be used. petnames is used (my love - yuuta , darling - megumi , my sunflower - yuuji). tooth rottening fluff.

note. kind off early for valentines day but I wanted to write it anyways! happy early valentines day people <33

— THE PREPARED TYPE. 乙骨憂太 | okkotsu yuuta

[ "happy valentines day (name), here you go, usually girls give out the chocolates but I wanted to do the giving! I didn't want to buy just chocolates so I made chocolate chip cookies! I hope you love them my love.. y- you don't mind if I call you my love right?" ]

A gentleman to the boot. A week before valentines he has already been planning on what to get for you. He wanted to give you something meaningful that you'll love. Thus the idea of baking cookies came in.

A chocolate chip cookie to be exact. Although he doesn't know baking that much, he asked for his friends' help, pandas, toge, maki. Although when he asks for their help all he gets is “I don't know how to bake,” or “bonito flakes” in toge's language.

Thus he opted to get baking lessons which was worth it because he learned how to bake cakes, and different types of desserts that he can surprise you for any occasion.

While in the baking lessons he was a little slow but the teacher didn't mind at all. He had to apologize a lot due to the small clumsy mistakes he does but nonetheless he was able to learn through his mistakes.

He gifts you the chocolate chip cookie with a white paper bag and light pink ribbons and laces. He tried his best to make the packaging look adorable which ended up to be cute and great!

He also bought you some pink tulips. The day of the valentines day he was worried you wont like the cookies he baked or worse your allergic to something in the cookie. So he had to ask in advance if your allergic to anything before he gave it to you.

When he gave the cutely packaged cookies and the tulips he gave you an awkward smile. As you feel your body feel hot as he blushed a little seeing you take the cutely packaged gift and the pink tulips.

“Oh uh… umm since you said you dont have any allergies h- here! happy valentines,” he gives it to you as he awkwardly chuckles feeling pink dust forming in his cheek. Slowly you take the cutely packaged sweet treat, “I hope you love it how much I loved making it for you.”

“thank you yuuta,” you smiled, giving him a small peck in the kiss, making his eyes widen. His whole face covered with his blush, “your welcome my love,” he gave you a kiss back. Yuuta feels as if his mouth has been overfilled with the sweetness of the chocolates as he looks at you. He truly is a lovesick fool isn't he?

— THE AWKWARD TYPE. 狗巻棘 | inumaki toge

[ “uhh… k- kelp… tuna tuna,” ]

He's a hopeless romantic. Although quite awkward as I'd like to think when he's in love, he'll love hard to the point he feels nervous and shy around them. He had to take three shopping trips in three whole days because he feels as if the things he bought are not too worthy for you.

Unlike yuuta he just followed a youtube tutorial and winged it the day before valentine. It was a lot of trial and error. Yes he woke up panda just to force panda to try the first failure of his creation.

Panda thought he was poisoning him after eating all of his onigiri. Yes the cursed corpse puked it out after. Toge has to be up all night to make those chocolate soufflés for you. The ending was a messy kitchen, a panda who looks like he's about to enter heaven and see Jesus, and a perfectly done chocolate soufflés.

He wrapped it in a minimalistic way, a red wrapper and a pink ribbon on the chocolate soufflés and made a small cute note on it drawing a chibi of yourself and him holding hands.

He hopes the chocolate soufflés were to your liking and the love letter reaches through your heart. He'll hide under his collar once you get the gifts he has given you. He wants to run away, kiss you, or give you a kiss then run away after!

In short he doesn't know what to do and just short circuits but tries his best to stay where he is as you took his declaration of love.

As you take the valentines gift you smile at him seeing the love letter attached to the wrapped treats. He blushed a little trying to hide his face with his collar as you read the letter he wrote.

Dear (name),

I love you, I know I can say it aloud like anybody can. I do hope my actions can speak through the words I badly wanna say. I love you dearly.

You smile at him, bringing him to a hug. The cursed speech user's eyes widen at this as he awkwardly hugs you back putting his head on your shoulder feeling his whole face hot and embarrassed. “I love you too toge!” He nodded his head as he hugged you tightly making you giggle hugging him back tightly.

Words may not be said but actions are much louder to toge's love for you.

— THE COOL HEADED TYPE. 伏黒恵 | fushiguro megumi

[ “I hope this isn't much, I hope you aren't disappointed, I'm not much of a flower type of guy but I hope this love letter will suffice, happy valentines day d-.. ahem! darling..” ]

He knows how to bake and is a perfect boyfriend at this point. Although he's quite stoic and a private person you loved him nonetheless. As for valentines day presents he already planned them in advance.

He personally doesn't like giving flowers but prefers to give you a love letter or love notes. He made some chocolate truffles for you but when gojo saw him baking he immediately annoyed megumi to let him join baking which he denied multiple times.

Gojo ended up eating some of the truffles as megumi forced him out of the kitchen. The way he decorated the packaging was a simplistic style. A cute pink wrapper with red ribbons decorating it. As he gave it to you, same with the cutely decorated letter scented with his favorite perfume.

Particularly he wasn't embarrassed more on the nervous side, afterall he value what your likes and dislikes and wants the best for you.

“Tell me if you don't like it, I'm gonna remake the one you like, okay?” he says making you chuckle as you take the gifts he gave for you, “silly megumi, I'd eat it even if I'm allergic to it if it came from you,”

The raven haired male chuckles, “stop being an idiot I would never let you eat something you're allergic too,” you grin as he gives you a small peck in the cheek as you hugged him close.

— THE SUNSHINE TYPE. 虎杖悠仁 | itadori yuuji

[ “I got you tons of things, if I'm being truthful I almost forgot about it so I kinda panicked and bought lots of things! I hope you like what I get for you, my sunflower!” ]

He almost forgot about it until nobara asked what he'll get for you. His eyes widened as he looked at nobara in panic as the brunette girl looked at him in defeat. He forced the girl to help him as nobara fighted for her life to not be in yuuji's shit.

Ended up helping him in the end as they looked around a patissier shop where he ended up buying brownies for you. He also requested for the workers to wrap it in a super duper cute way! pink wrapper, red ribbons, with white frills, and cute heart designs on it.

He also bought you a cute hello kitty plushie, a bouquet rose and a letter. Yuuji Itadori is going all out for this because he felt guilty and almost forgot about it. He will say it to you too once he gives his presents to you. Apologizing, looking like a kicked puppy.

You chuckled as you let it go, making the boy grin and pepper you with kisses.

“I’m still sorry I almost forgot about it…” yuuji whined hugging you close nuzzling his head onto your shoulder making you chuckle, “it's fine, I still love you yuuji, I don't mind if you forgot about it,” the pink haired male pouts. “That's not good, if I forget any event I'm gonna be angry at myself for that because I want to shower you with all my love.”

“You already do those yuuji, everyday you shower me with your love,”

“that's true I still want you to know I love you with every anniversary, valentines day, birthday, christmas—”

“yeah, yeah, I got it yuuji,”

He chuckles, hugging you closer, loving the warmth you two make.

“Good!”

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itstheghostofmypast · 18 days

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MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Okay- so, first of all, thank you so much Anon, for this ask and I'm sorry I responded to late, but I had to take my time with this one.😭💖.

So here it goes, (i know i said i'd do two biases, im sorry guys, i love yall too much and i get too invested the word count was killing me)

1) @edenesth

Park Seonghwa- Rivals to Lovers

Here me out, he owns an old book shop across the street, he's been there longer than you too. This was his turf, his town, his people, people who loved to read in his cozy library, with its olden print books, worn out pages, read through by generations of the same family.

All was great until one spring she shows up, with her whole pastel plus minimalistic vibes, all with the cutesy trinkets and plants, with warm lights- he noticed some books too, but they were only for show- in conclusion it was a horrid place.

A horrid place where most teens would go to after school now, no longer going to his bookshop, where they'd gossip, read novels or mangas, or even look at pretty pictured magazines (the safe kind, mind you he kept nothing nasty). What's worse was that the older folk began to go there, too! Especially because of how nice she was to them, so polite and so pretty and - ANNOYING.

He even went to 'inspect' the place, with a sour mood and an ill intention, though he was greeted with a burst of sweet aroma, one that had his stomach growling and his inner foodie, begging him to pick at least one of the many pastries or have a cup of steaming, delicious coffee. What came next was worst, her, with her gentle smile and angelic features.

"Hello! Welcome to Spring Avenue, how may we help you today?"

"You're taking my traffic."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't."

With that he had walked out, starting a cold war, between the two. Ironically, she was a pacifist, never a fighter, but boy, did he piss her off, he knew all those buttons that would have her steaming like a hot latte.

The war had begun;

It all began when he put a " 10% off sign on Mangas, Fashion Magazines and Manhwas" that took a god chunk of her traffic.

In retaliation, she launched a "Friendship campaign, any customer that brings a friend gets a cake slice free."

Spend 2 hours reading here and leave with a borrowed book/novel of your choice."

"Buy a coffee and get a cookie free."

This continued throughout the season, so did their rivalry, to an extent that led their divided customers sense the tension. And like usual, highschoolers are escapists and this little feud of Seonghwa and her's was a problem they'd like to avoid, from her cafe they could see their beloved bookshop owner Seonghwa scowl at them, and if they were leaving the bookshop, the kids could feel the uneasiness in her smile that she give them once they'd pass her by.

"Congratulations, you're in loss." She sighed, closing the file, earning a scowl from the cafe owner, "Hey, I'm just here to check your bills, loss, and profit stuff, don't shoot the messenger."

"Alexia, come on." She whined, this was her dream, she'd put in her life's savings for this, "What should I do, Lexi?"

"Gosh, maybe not give out stupid discounts four times in a month?" Alexia sighed, rubbing her face, leaning back to stare at the bookshop across the street, "San said he knows the owner, maybe you guys could do a collab, instead of trying to each other's traffic."

"Who's San?" She asked her best friend, slash account manager and Public Relations officer- wait, was she dating!?

"Oh- uh- hey would you look at the time?" Alexia got up, grabbing her disposable coffee cup and bag, "Tell you what, you ask the bookshop owner dude about this? Okay? I'll get back with the details on Monday!" She called out as she walked towards the door, ignoring the cafe owner's questions about this San, "BYE LOVE YOU!"

That's how she found herself standing Infront of his bookshop that evening, still debating if she should go in or not? Was this idea even worth it, the guy was rude, annoying, stupid, incredibly handsome and sweet with kids and- the hell.

"Can I help you?" His deep voice came out of no where

She almost jumped out of her skin, only to turn around and spot the man she had been hating for the past ten months, standing there in all his angleic glory, with that ugly sweater and that overly comfortable scarf, not to mention his hair, his undercut had grown, quiet well too, perhaps he really was blessed with good genes.

"I uh..." she trailed off, pouting to herself, thinking of how he'd react, maybe he would make fun of her, or insult her or even go as far as to tell the town about her poor business management skills.

"Are you still open?" his question had caught her off guard, staring at him quietly wanting to see if this was a trick, only it wasn't, for when she nodded, he had looked around and then asked if he could...get a cup of coffee from there.

Of course she had said yes, why on earth would she say no to a customer, she needed the business. Unfortunately, that one cup of coffee, turned into two, then three, well- not as unfortunate as she would like it to be.

The two, mind you, who still didnt like each other, began to learn a lot about each other. He learnt how she was genuinely a sweet, caring and gentle person, her persona was indeed not fake but very real, this is who she was. She on the other hand, learned that he had inherited this business from his family, and he was an avid reader- sort a geek, a cute geek, a cute geek that could eat a whole chocolate cake with three mugs off coffee like it was nothing.

It wasn't until the third week of him visiting her cafe, that when he had stepped out to go there, he had bumped into her. She had almost fallen, but he was quick, gripping her wrist and pulling her into his chest, only to laugh when she mumbled an excuse, though he was glad she couldn't hear how his heart was hammering against his chest, wanting to stuff itself in the breast pocket of her coat.

That day she had asked him if she could check out his book shop, because she had been looking for old English bakery recipes and she couldn't find it anywhere, not any store around or online. Of course he had taken her to the right isle, in the right section in no time, this bookshop was his life and collecting and sifting through books was his passion, that day he had seen her passion, she had sat there, on the floor the entire night, reading book after book, mumbling to herself as she noted down recipes. He had sat next to her, helping her jot down notes, bringing her coffee- well not as good as hers, but good enough. At one point he had even ordered them a late night snack, well snacks, because he's a growing boy. He had closed the shop with the two inside, even pulled out a blanket and some cushions from the lounging area so she could comfortably work- she was a passionate girl and ironically he had realised something that night, only it turned into a full blown epiphany in the morning.

Next morning she had woken up right next to him, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her as the blanket was draped over the two, they had fallen asleep while reading- oh my, he really was pretty up close.

Though the two pretended nothing had happened, nothing had changed, however, everyone around them had noticed, the highschoolers would giggle when he'd come to her cafe for a cup of coffee, or how the older folk would pat him on the back when she'd step into the bookshop calling him out for help, with her little, "Hwa?"

Neither really knew how it happened, but one night while closing up he had waited outside for her, telling her he'd drop her home, even though she lived close by. Slowly this had become part of their routine, he'd often talk about the latest manga or an issue to the Star Wars comics or whatever on earth he'd talk about, but she'd always listen. Always smile and laugh at his jokes, while he'd readily accept any test recipes she'd try, telling her that his stomach was like a blackhole.

But when do the two get together? Simple, on New Years Eve, when he had to close his shop but she had decided to leave her cafe open, wanting to cater to all those who were celebrating the arrival of the new year with their loved ones, she knew Seonghwa had to go home anyway and she didn't want to spend the night alone since her family was out of town. What she did not expect was a few minutes before the strike of midnight, the cafe door chimed open as she turned to greet the customer, only to freeze at the sight before her- Seonghwa entering with a bouqet of origami flowers, smiling at her as he slowly walked to her;

"I- I know you don't like plucking flowers or bouqets, so I made you these."

"You...made these?"

"Ofcourse."

"W-why?"

"I...because I..." but before he could finish his sentence his ears picked up the count down, causing him to quickly place the flowers on the counter and as soon as the fireworks rang in her ears, it was as if she could feel the burning warmth in her body, taking a second to process how his lips were on hers, his hands cupping her face as her hands instinctively went up to grip his coat, pulling him even closer. Who knew that one day she'll end up opening a cafe that also served as a bookstore, who knew that one day, her little, evil, handsome rival bookseller, would be the New Year's kiss she never knew she needed, the man she never knew she needed, the lover that she was blessed to have.

2) @yessa-vie

Jeong Yunho- Neighbors to Lovers

No, she was not the new tenant, he was, and for some ungodly reason he was also extremely ill-prepared to live alone. Like any other weekend, she was leaving her apartment to go to the cafe to sit in peace and finish her novel, but God had other plans. She had opened the door to come face to face with a tall, good-looking man, though the smile he wore scared her- he was one of those extroverts.

No, he was not mean at all, nor was he the manipulative kind, Jeong Yunho really didn't know how the pre-installed dishwasher worked, that's why he had come to her that fateful weekend, about to knock on the door but she had beat him to it, opening the door before he could, earning a sheepish smile in return- who knew his neighbour would be so gorgeous, who knew purple could look so good on someone?

"Hey, I- I moved in across the hall, apartment 19, lol, I guess we're neighbours, huh?"

She had only nodded meekly at his question, pulling her satchel closer to her person, not because she didn't like him, no, but because she wasn't much of a talker anymore, not so confident either and also- because regardless of how good looking this stranger was, he was still a stranger.

"I'm Yunho- Sorry to bother you, I know you must be going somewhere, but I- I uh- I wanted to know if you know how to operate the dishwasher?"

That's how she found herself in his apartment, leaving the maindoor wide open, so she could escape if something were to happen, but to her surprise he was just a regular idiot, one who thought the dishwasher was a rack used to dry the dishes- men.

That night Yunho met an angel, one who seemingly had her life planned out, held together well, while he was still trying to build something out of his- data analyst or not, living alone was not the easiest thing to do, yet, she seemed so nonchalant about it.

Overtime however, she noticed how he would come over to ask her for help often, sometimes it was the 'fridge isn't working right' other times it was the 'how much water do you add to rice while boiling it?' Honestly, she would've told him to piss off if it were anyone else, but it was her polite neighbour, her sweet polite, new neighbour who would pass her by in the corridor every morning, smiling at her and wishing her a good morning- even if she wasn't a morning person.

Ironically, he continued to ensure they cross paths, only because he wanted to get to know her, to talk to her, he really needed a friend, and since moving here meant Mingi and him could no longer hang out 24/7, he really needed another person to talk to, someone who was not Hongjoong from the finance department.

Ironically, she did not protest or tell him to get lost, instead she's quietly help him whenever he'd approach her, giving him a shy smile then going back to her apartment. That purple door tempting him to go back and knock on the old wood, wanting to know what Narnia like secrets she hid behind.

She let it be, truthfully, she wanted fo befriended him, but during these little adventures, she realised she had begun to neglect her book, the same book she had a deadline for, the same book she had been working on day and night, and now this puppy pops up and takes all her attention?

So what does she do? Simple, she starts to create some form of distance, leave before he'd be awake, come back home later too, also even if he did come to knock on her purple door, she wouldn't be there to answer it, so technically she wouldn't feel guilty right?

Wrong, instead God had punished her with a severe writer's block, one so bad that she had missed two of her deadlines, and according to her publisher, she was on her last chance. That's how she found herself at the very cafe where she would find solace, now on the verge of tears, staring at the laptop in pure agony, maybe this was payback for leaving him unattended and ignoring him or maybe she was never meant to be a writer.

A fresh cup of coffee was placed next to her hand, causing her to quickly pull back and look at the stranger, only her panicked eyes met a softer, more timid gaze, a gentle smile gracing her presence.

"Hey... you looked like you needed the juice." He smiled, gesturing towards the chair, as if asking for permission to sit down next to her, to which she nodded.

"I uh..." she paused. Should she even be asking him how he's been? Does she have the right to do so, or are they just neighbours- well, at this point, two strangers living across each other.

"I read your books by the way," he began, giving her a gentle smile, as he felt the way she had tensed up, honestly, initially he thought she was like that because his presence made her uncomfortable, but he soon realised it wasn't him, but she usually was this tensed all the time, this nervous and unsure, which made no sense to him because she was one of the most well functioning person he had met in the city, and he was glad to have moved in next to her, "It's great, the plotline is amazing and the details- you really captured the essence, I particularly liked the world you created, honestly, when I moved here I thought everyone wore those 'blockers' too. To not...feel stuff you know," he turned to look at her, only to catch her staring at him, a small chuckle escaping him when she cleared her throat, averting her gaze, "You were the only one who was nice enough to help me, even for the stupidest of tasks...it means a lot."

She stared at him in awe and disbelief. She had been trying to avoid him for almost a month now, couldn't he tell? Or was he just playing dumb- I mean he totally could be dumb, he didn't know a toaster comes with settings, just thought the numbers were there for the appeal.

After that the two began to "spend time together", it was strictly casual mind you, nothing personal, though he would drop by more often than usual, sometimes after work, sometimes on the weekends- to have dinner with her, he'd bring dessert, or to watch a movie with her, he'd bring the snacks- no, nothing domestic at all.

Or so they thought, because a few months in, he had come over by swinging the door open, yes he had the keys and she had his keys, only to find her standing there all dressed up.

"Where are you off to? What about movie night?"

"Oh no..." she gasped, "Yuyu, I forgot to tell you I had a date tonight." A date? Why? With whom?

"Wait, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why would you go on a date when we- I mean...isn't it weird? Shouldn't you be more focused on your book, instead of this temporary romance?"

"Temporary romance?!"

"W-wait, I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong-"

"Out."

"W-what?"

"I said get out!"

That happened a week ago, she had been avoiding him for a whole week, she had been ignoring his calls, his texts, his knocks- no he didn't barge into her apartment, it took him a great amount of time to get her to open up to him and he idiotically clowned himself. So he decided to go to the next thing, go to the official reading of her book launch.

He waited there at the back, listening to her intently, taking in each word, who knew he would ever fall in love with, her neighbour, the same girl who had helped with the dishwasher, brought him dinner at night, spent time teaching him the usual ropes of living alone- who knew the very same girl had changed the plot of the book, basing it on her life, expressing how the shy, depressed protagonist, who thought dying her hair purple would make her feel better, realised that the only thing that would make her feel better would be a companion, a tall, handsome man, with a heart of gold- it was not that she needed a man, no, she just needed a friend, and she had finally found one, the inspiration to her writer's block, the Chandler to her Monica, the- HE DIES!?

He gasped, appalled at the way she had ended the story, where at the end, on his deathbed the man tells his beloved how she never needed him, but he needed her to function, to live through each day- bloody hell.

He waited for them to leave when he finally approached her, somewhat upset-no, he was very upset, as she stopped cleaning up to look at him, raising a questioning brow, "What?"

"I can't believe you!"

"Funny, Jeong, I should be the one saying that."

"What!? You killed me!?"

"What?"

"I come here to declare my undying love- no I come here to tell you how much you mean to me and apologise for never asking you out but getting upset when someone actually asked you out and you KILL ME IN YOUR NOVE?"

"First of all, I accept your apology, secondly, the protagonist was DEFINITELY NOT YOU, I made him up WAY BEFORE I met you."

"Oh..." he stared at her then looked around the almost empty bookshop, maybe he should just leave-

"So...Will you ask me out properly now or...'l"

"Move in with me."

"Too fast."

"Was worth a shot." He smiled when she let out a small laugh shaking her head at his antics, "Take me to dinner, Yunho." She smiled watching him lean closer then pause, as if asking for her permission, "Can I...?" His question was answered when she gripped him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer to crash her lips against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers,

"We move into my apartment..."

"What? Mine's great-"

"Yunho, have you seen the window and the balcony on mine?"

"Your apartment it is boss."

3) @jaehunnyy

Choi San- Bestfriends to Lovers

Idiots, these two were complete idiots who were utterly in love with each other but were also too blind to realise that - why? Simple, because both feared that confessing to the other may ruin the long-held, deep bond.

A bond that had developed at the ripe age of childhood, middle school, to be more accurate. The day he had come to school, bored out of his mind, staring outside the window, wondering if he could jump on the closest tree to escape this prison. What he had not expected was an angel to come and sit beside him, well technically, the teacher had made her sit next to him, and he hadn't noticed her until she poked his shoulder lighter, causing him to jerk back and gasp, earning a few chuckles from the glass as the teacher just sighed in defeat.

"Wh-Hello."

"Do you need help with that?" She asked, pointing at the math equation in front of him. He looked at his notebook and remembered that's what they were supposed to me doing- damn that was a lot of daydreaming.

"Yeah, I guess...do you... know how to solve it?" He asked the new girl, too afraid to make eyecontact.

"Here, I'll show you." Turning to face him, she pulled his scribbled notebook closer.

"I'm San by the way."

That day onwards, a nice and quiet introvert at the back of the class finally began to crack open. From time to time, you'd hear him whispering to her, talking about some anime or a film. Often, he'd be telling her about his cat, Byeol, and how pretty she was. During break you wouldn't see San next to her for the first five minutes, no, he'd be sprinting across the campus,jumping down the stairs to go to the canteen to get her something to drink with her lunch, or a sweet snack, regardless of how many times she'd say 'it's fine.' During self study hours, she wouldn't be studying, no, she'd be busy tutoring her athletically gifted friend, he was...a little dumb, but that's okay, he was hardworking and she'd tell him she'd help him where he'd get stuck, explain and tutor where needed- especially in math.

As they grew older, he grew into his body, his self-esteem issues slowly subsiding, his feelings for her deepening, yet, never enough to tip the scale, at the bring of an edge but never enough to flow out he had to keep it all under control, because that's just how San was, patient and calm, he would never take a step if there was an ounce of the doubt when it came to how she felt about him. Though watching her spread her wings into the beauty she was, well, was somewhat problematic for him. Especially when she'd come to him, smiling like that, greeting him with the gentle voice of hers, asking him if he liked her haircut.

"What do you think?"

"It's...very nice."

"Just very nice?"

"You'd look pretty to me even if you were bald."

Conversations like these would have her heart hammering against her ribcage, and she'd pray to God that he couldn't hear it. She'd pray for it when he'd be walking home side by side, his shoulder bumping into hers, or his hand brushing against hers, when he'd take her bag from her, clicking his tongue at how heavy it would be,

"You trynna' build muscles like me?" He'd ask, though he was still very fragile, he'd only started going to the gym when he noticed how the 'basketball team captain', had decided to ask her to 'help tutor him too', though she had politely declined.

"Hmm? Of course not, Advanced Math books are just big like that..."

"Why do you do this to yourself, dove?" A nickname she had gained over the time, one used only by him.

"Because I wanna teach one day, I love teaching, I want to make sure people realise subjects aren't difficult or they aren't dumb, it's just that they're not taught properly."

Yup, he was smitten, on his knees, begging for her please ( he was also an idiot).

Ended up in college with her, though in a different major, like hell the now 'mountain of a man', no longer the kitten-like fragile boy, was going to major in math- business was a way better option.

This wasn't a bad situation, though they rarely had a few classes together, she'd still make time to see him, to text him as soon as class would end, but he'd already be standing at the exit, waiting for her with a coffee in hand and a dimpled smile, reserved just for her.

In no means was Choi San an extrovert, but somehow along the line he had met one, who later claimed that his MBTI had changed to an introvert too, though he doubted that notion- Jung Wooyoung.

Boistorous, noisy, obnoxious but a genuinely nice person at heart, Wooyoung was his companion in his major's classes, he was also the first person to know about San's little secret, since San trusted him enough to know, though Wooyoung assured him he had figured it out as soon as San introduced him to her as his "bestfriend".

"You're an idiot." Wooyoung snorted, taking off his shoes as he walked into the 4th years tiny apartment.

"What? Why?"

"You really think I didn't know?"

"How did you kno-'

"You can be bestfriends with a girl since childhood, unless a) one of you confessed to the other and got friendzoned but still chose friendship or b) neither of you confessed but are secretly crushing over the other."

"Wow, should've been a psychologist instead of a business major."

"What can I say, Sannie? I am a man of many talents."

Things progressed like this for a long time, Wooyoung watched from the sidelines how the two would basically act like a couple that was not a couple- almost everyone at campus thought they were a couple and Wooyoung was basically the third wheel. Not that he minded, and San appreciated him for that, he was glad Wooyoung's relationship with his dove was platonic- borderline sibling-like.

But Choi San was a fool, one that Choi San, at the fresh age of 25 wished that perhaps he'd be able to take the next steps, but something at the back of his mind held him back, were his personal desires as important as this friendship?

Which is why he stood there watching his best friend get ready for her date, her date with Wooyoung. After a conversation he did not like, but what could he say? He was too afraid to even confess, and well, Wooyoung wasn't a bad guy, and technically, he was his friend.

"I'm gonna ask her out, Sannie." The brunnet sighed, before taking a sip of his coffee, humming at the bitterness, perhaps this bitterness was sweeter than the bitter taste that had developed in San's mouth at the statement.

"W-why?" The bigger man with the fragile heart whispered.

"Because...I like her...I'm sorry but...I gave you time, so much of it and...I just wanted you to be the first one to know...if she says no, we'll all still be friends, but if she says yes...San, I won't hold back."

That had led to her first anniversary with Wooyoung, then the second and finally a day before their third anniversary San had texted the couple how he wouldn't be able to make it to their anniversary party because he had work that day and he wished them the best.

What he did not expect was someone knocking on his door at 2 am, opening the door to find a tear stained Wooyoung, only for him to punch the taller man in the face, watching him stumble backwards then wipe his eyes and sigh, "I swear- if you weren't such a great guy, I would've stabbed you."

"What the F*CK WOOYOUNG?"

That night was the first time he had seen Wooyoung cry, cry about how when she read the message she had become a mess, one that even Wooyoung couldn't fix, begging him for forgiveness how she made a mistake, how even though she was happy with Wooyoung, her heart belonged to someone else, someone who she thought she could move on from since he never confessed, since he never liked her back the way she did, and though the text was a confirmation of that, she couldn't bear lying to Wooyoung, to give him only half the love of what he deserved, knowing he deserved someone who would teach him the true meaning of love, because she was a teacher with only one student in mind, the idiot of a man- Choi San.

That night San couldn't sleep, not a wink, he processed the words over and over again, so did she like him? Should he confess to her? Now? Wouldn't that make it awkward? Or should he wait? Would that be a mistake?

Though his questions were answered in the morning when the doorbell rang at 7 am, making the sleepy man sigh as he stumbled to the door with blurry eyes, opening it still half asleep, only the slap he received woke sobered him up quickly,

"OW- WH- WHY ARE YOU JUST LIKE WOOYOUNG!?"

"SHUT UP! DONT TAKE HIS NAME! I HURT HIM BECAUSE OF YOU!" Never in the many years of knowing her, had she raised her voice like that.

"I-"

"NO! LISTEN TO ME!" She yelled before shoving him inside so she could continue yelling inside, "I like you- and you- you d*ck you could tell him you liked me but you couldn't tell me!? All those horrible dates you watched me go to, but you couldn't stop me?! You knew you liked me yet you let Woo ask me out!?"

"I- I didn't wanna ruin what we had..."

"San, I- what if I had married Woo? Huh? Then what? When you already had half my heart, I-"

She couldn't finish her sentence though, because the next thing she knew, he was smothering her with all that pent up love, his lips pressing against hers with a ferocity she had ever seen in her gentle Sannie, wanting to claim what he was too scared to touch before.

He only pulled back when she lightly pushed him back, gasping for air, looking up at him all flushed and pink, her swollen lips just enticing him even more,

"W-what was that?" She breathed out.

"Never say you're marrying anyone but me, I would've ruined the wedding even if it meant being thrown out."

"You're an idiot Sannie."

"No, I just had a teacher who could teach me math, but couldn't teach me how to love properly - guess she was learning too."

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systlin · 10 months

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hi! i'm not sure if something you feel comfortable giving advice on, but even a point in the right direction towards someone who talks about this would be nice. i'd really like to start exploring the woods etc around me and engaging more with nature after living in the city for most of my life, but im Black and femme and have been very adamantly warned away from those spaces because of the risk of being hurt in them, esp in a mostly white town. any advice for exploring safely? ik not to be alone

Obviously I can't speak to Black experiences, because I'm so white I glow under blacklight. I CAN speak to lady experiences, though.

It depends a WHOLE LOT on the area, tbh. In my area, there...well. There simply aren't a lot of people, period. There are as many people in the city of Chicago...just Chicago, not counting the suburbs...as live in my entire damn state. There simply aren't a lot of people to present danger out here. I go out in the woods all the time alone, and really the only time I see ANYONE is in peak morel mushroom season. I've never felt unsafe. But again, that's because I live in Bumfuck Nowhere and there are like six people in my 'town'.

THAT BEING SAID, I have often gone hiking in local state parks where there ARE people, and have never felt unsafe. Indeed, most people are very friendly. Then again, I'm white, so I have NO idea if that experience would be different as a lone black woman. I've run into people of various colors, and had positive interactions with all of them, but again. I'm white. When I run into, say, a Black woman and her daughter hiking, I'm the one in that interaction who might pose a problem. I have no idea what that interaction is like from the other side, though I just say Hi and offer some of my extra water if they need it. I don't know what sort of anxiety might be present there, or what other interactions they've had that day.

It would not be a bad idea at all to find a hiking buddy. See if you can find a friend who wants to go tromp around the woods with you. Even I do this, though these days it's usually my dog.

Actually, if you have a dog? Particularly a large dog? That's a great buddy to take hiking. Not a bad idea to invest in a thing of pepper spray either. If you're in bear country, buy some bear spray.

TBH, if you can, go wandering on private land, where other people being around is less likely. Obviously get permission from the land owner first; I find a polite smile and maybe a plate of cookies and a 'yeah I just want to look at wildflowers and spot birds, they're hobbies of mine' usually works.

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!

For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

Graceland, Christmas 1960

The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.

You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.

You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.

The thought brings you to tears again.

You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.

So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.

And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.

The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.

Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.

Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.

Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.

God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.

You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.

Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.

Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.

You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.

Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.

He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.

You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.

And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.

Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.

But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.

Yes, that’s all it is.

You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.

His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.

Oh, god.

Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.

Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.

Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.

As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.

You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.

These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.

And that makes you gasp and pull away.

That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.

Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.

Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.

You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.

Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.

Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.

And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.

Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.

Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.

You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.

Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.

The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.

Easier said than done.

And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.

You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.

But I have to.

You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.

Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.

The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.

But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.

Shut up.

By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.

The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.

Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.

The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.

Sandy.

Goddammit.

As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.

You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.

He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.

As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.

You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.

“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.

The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.

“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.

You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.

“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.

“Excuse me?” you huff.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.

“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.

“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.

Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.

“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.

You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.

“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.

“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.

Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.

You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.

Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.

“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.

“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.

“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.

“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.

His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.

Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.

“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.

“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.

Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.

It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.

Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.

“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.

His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.

“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.

The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”

Oh, sweet lord…

“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.

The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.

But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.

Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.

You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.

“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.

His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.

“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

Holy shit.

A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.

“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.

Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.

All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.

Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.

Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.

When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.

Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.

True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.

You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.

“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.

His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”

You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.

“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”

Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.

“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.

The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.

You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.

You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.

“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.

You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.

You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.

You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.

He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.

He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.

Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.

The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.

Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.

And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.

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mdhwrites · 19 days

Note

What do you think about the four most popular ships in Amphibia (Sashanne, Sasharcy, Marcanne, and Sashannarcy)? Even if shipping and romance aren’t that important and only used to teach a lesson or for a comedy episode, it’s pretty obvious that the relationship between the girls can be seen either as platonic or romantic.

So I'm going to first give my one sentence thoughts on each by concept and then canon before going in deep on this:

Sashanne: A unique dynamic that is actually very context specific so hard to actually recreate and I'd argue most people don't even try or get close in fan works (myself included)/I do like them but I 100% think they needed a couple years to figure out their lives away from each other or else post Amphibia they would have likely become toxic in a new way.

Sasharcy: Classic nerd and popular pairing/FUCKING NONEXISTENT.

Marcanne: A bit more nuanced since it's much more the slacker and the passionate one as far as a dynamic goes but not in the way you expect./Held back by a lot more tell don't show, especially in the first couple episodes that Marcy is introduced but it's cute and you can EASILY see how this whole trip will have made Anne be able to appreciate her oldest friend more.

Sashannarcy: In concept these are actually a GREAT polyamory trio and I love that it has such mainstream appeal with a fandom/I don't think it works from the show's perspective because of how well defined Sasha and Anne's relationship is while Marcy struggles to have a presence.

In case you didn't notice a running theme, these ships have essentially the same problem as my greatest problem with the show: Marcy. Her weaker writing compared to the rest of the cast and the fact that she serves a narrative role more than she acts as her own character makes it hard for me to be compelled by her canon self in ships. It's akin to why Willow and Hunter don't appeal to me from a shipping perspective. I like characters, not plot devices. Yes, Marcy is better than both of those characters as she actually has a firmer character than either but that doesn't fix that her narrative utility comes before who she is most of the time.

The other big element that maybe has always held me back from shipping them in canon once I watched the show is actually the fact that I agree with the show: As teenagers, they were AWFUL for each other. Marcy needs her own, personal strength that she found some of in Amphibia but needs to actually put to use in the real world. Sasha brutally changed so much of herself and was clearly struggling with that, over correcting or still wanting to run even to the end. She asks if it's okay for her to abandon Marcy after all, even after she's gone so far to make up to Anne as to give up ALL power in her life which isn't healthy either. Anne is the closest to being ready for a relationship after Amphibia but Sprig's Birthday/Give a Frog a Cookie showed that her self sacrificing tendency for her friends and her desperation for approval still. She may do it for better people than for Sasha but she is still struggling.

They all just need time to figure themselves out as people because your relationships SHOULD NOT DEFINE YOU. That's kind of part of the point of the ending. Take the good and grow as a person, whether you lose someone by choice or by circumstance. That includes for the trio as friends or romantically.

Okay, but I did mention something potentially quite controversial which is my Sashanne take. See... Their dynamic in most fandom works is the overzealous, brash one versus the patient, more responsible one with Sasha and Anne respectively. That is accurate post Amphibia but it also carries NONE of their baggage and usually leans a lot more on Sasha's tomboy nature instead of the fact that Sasha is a girl who can both kick your ass and then worry about having chipped a nail. The complexities of Sashanne that make it so compelling in the show just don't show up as much except as an obstacle to get over to get together. That works for shipping but it's not why their friendship is as complicated and interesting as it is in the show. It doesn't have the punch it should and it's damn near impossible to replicate because that level of history is hard to depict. It only functions in the show as being well depicted because of how much time is spent essentially breaking Anne out of Sasha's control, which is part of it. Anne is someone who pretty much left a cult and Sashanne is her having to decide to now be with her cult leader but not slip back into the mentality the cult taught her. That's... not easy to put it mildly.

But then again, a lot of people just take Sasha and Anne working together for a greater cause to mean they have literally no issues anymore despite Sasha's Angels existing. I guess that happens when somehow the entire fandom doesn't give a fuck about Amphibia but only the trio. sigh

Let's end this on a positive note though which is that if I am so rough on essentially all the Sasha relationships for needing time for Sasha to genuinely internalize her lessons, Marcy is the opposite. While I complained about her above, the strength to the fact that she's a pretty well defined, nice character who can be used mostly to support others arcs is that she more neatly fits into a position for shipping. Her awkwardness and nerdiness is PRIME romance fodder (there's a reason a shocking amount of romantic protagonists are clumsy but that's for a different blog) and her passion makes it easy to understand why someone would want to be with her.

And I do want to say some thoughts on Marcanne. Even if they start on a rough place with more tell instead of show, it actually does kind of work in this context. A complaint I've had about other relationships is not actually knowing what the other is interested in their partner for besides "That's the hot one." There is ZERO ambiguity here. Marcy likes Anne because of her compassion, something she probably has worried about wearing out herself. Anne has always appreciated Marcy's intelligence but Amphibia has made her understand Marcy's passion far better than she did before and Anne clearly actually is into that now that she better cares about others properly. This also clearly shows their chemistry as we know the strengths and weaknesses each of them cover for the other, though not perfectly as they're both still human and the same things they admire in the other can cause anxiety and worry in themselves from comparing themselves to their partner. Marcy in Wartwood and Scavenger Hunt are all it takes for all of this to come out and it leads to more romantic chemistry, and a genuinely dynamic look at what they could be, than a lot of romance movies manage in their entire runtime.

In conclusion, I like all of them in general. In practice, I find most of them deeply compelling within the show. It's just... It doesn't drive me to want to write them during the show romantically because I agree with the show. They're complicated, both as a trio and as themselves, and they probably could use a more solid ground for themselves before they really start working on each other.

And that is honestly even better to me because it just makes them all the more interesting.

======+++++======

For anyone curious why I didn't talk about Sashannarcy at all despite literally being a polyamory writer, it's because I kind of wanted to keep it to the ships that I think are properly represented in the show and Marcy and Sasha get essentially zero time together to try and form a relationship beyond "Marcy thinks Sasha is really fucking cool while Sasha barely gives Marcy the time of day if she's not also giving attention to Anne." The theoretical would be fun to talk about but it's pretty much only the theoretical and I decided to keep the blog more focused on the practical.

Also had a moment after this of going "Huh. I wonder how much of me being demiromantic is playing a part in how I see these.?

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#amphibia #Marcanne #Sashanne #Sasharcy #Sashannarcy

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disneyanddisneyships · 4 months

Text

@gyubby99

TPOIF

The next morning Alistar walked into the dining hall, everyone turning to stare at him. He stood awkwardly before sitting down at the seat near the corner of the room. "You should eat, dear," Carol stated as she pushed her plate toward him gently. "I'm not hungry, mom. I promise. I'm fine," He smiled. "You need to eat too," "Alistar I eat all the time. You have problems with eating I want you to eat," Carol muttered. "Mom, i-" Alistar was interrupted when Elias placed a big plate of food in front of Alistar. "You're skinnier than a sword. You won't be able to wield one if you don't eat. You might need more energy to stab me again," Eli stated. "I.. I'm not gonna stab you again.. i-" "Just eat it," Eli stated, looking away uncomfortably and sitting down by his kids. Alistar glanced at Ella's family. And then the food. Carol Gave an encouraging smile before Alistar took a bite of the food, almost crying at how good it was. There was a knock on the dining hall door. "Hello. I'm here for the king and queen's family portrait?" A woman stated, standing awkwardly in the door. "Ah yes! Im.. afraid were in a bit of a luckle as of late. We're about to uh.. defend our kingdom... can you come back another day?" Ella asked as she stood up. "Oh.. uh... actually im... here for a month and the boat doesn't arrive until then... so i...." the girl stated with an awkward smile. "Oh no worries! How about you stay in the castle? You may have breakfast with us if you'd like," Ella stated. "I.. really?" The woman asked. "Dios mio..... I'd love to!" She stated. "Wonderful! And your name is?" Ella asked. "Rosalyn. But you can call me Rosa," the woman, now known as Rosa, stated. "Well, I'm Ella, that's my family. My sister, my kids, my husband, my father and mother and a few of my old friends," Ella stated, introducing everyone. Rosa waved. "And this is alistar," Ella stated awkwardly. Alistar looked up, his plate of food completely finished before glancing at Rosalyn, his eyes widening. Rosa looked at him the same way. Alistar swallowed the last of his food before giving a small smile. Rosalyn blushed. Carol looked between them excitedly. "I... uh... I'm Rosa," she stated, holding out her hand for alistar to shake. Alistar stood up immediately, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Im.. Alistar.. its.. nice to meet you," He stated with a blush plastered on his face. Eli rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, causing the two to step away from each other, Alistar sitting back down. Only to stand up again to pull out a chair for Rosalyn.

...... After breakfast, Alistar gave the rundown of his father's castle. Hiding places, crawl areas, and even secret rooms. "Oh so that's how you snuck extra cookies when you were six," Carol smirked. "That was eons ago, mother of mine! I haven't had a cookie in 30 years!" Alistar stated confidently. Ella chuckled. "I remember you brought me some one visit. I thought you said your dad knew," Ella stated. "He did not. When he found out, I was in a world of trouble. He burned off one of my fingerprints," Alistar stated with a clueless smile. Ella's smile fell. "Anyways, so if we go in through the dungeons, we can get through and go to this secret room over here which leads us right into his study. He usually spends most of his time in there anyways," Alistar explained. "But he probably knows you've escaped by now. And he grew up in that castle.. won't he expect us?" Clarissa asked. "That's why I'm gonna go in alone first. He expects me to stay away. Not to join in on battle," Alistar replied. "I don't know if I trust that," Eli muttered with a glare. Alistar shrugged. "Trust me or don't. It's the only chance we get," Alistar muttered. "Everyone gets a second chance. I mean. You and Rosalyn seemed pretty cozy at breakfast," Mia stated with a smirk. Alistar blushed. "What? No we werent!" He argued, his voice going up an octave. The entire group stared at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh cmon guys. Im.... I'm dead. Shes...... I'm gonna be gone after tomorrow when you figure this out, I have no shot. Besides... i...." Alistar trailed off, glancing at ella. "I don't deserve love after what I did," "Exactly," Elias stated. "Doesn't matter. Right now, we need to work on getting into that castle. We've already wasted half the day," Alruna muttered. "Shes right. If we don't leave now, John could strike. We need to get into the castle. The plan has to happen now," Clarissa stated. "Then we leave in 20," Ella replied.

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osleeplessflowero · 4 months

Text

☕Relax❄️

> In honor of Christmas/Gyftmas/the Holidays I decided to write a oneshot with Edge including some holiday vibes. I hope you enjoy! > Reader goes by They/Them pronouns as always. 💜 > Reader is implied to have lips, so my apologies to anyone with skelesonas! > Implied to be dating Edge here.

A fire crackles in the fireplace in the living room. An old radio plays some holiday classics, a calm atmosphere everywhere in the house. Red's out for the day, wanting to go catch up with some old friends, which leaves you and Edge alone in the house. You don't mind that at all, it just means you'll be able to spend some alone time with your favorite skeleton. (Sorry, Red, but it's true!)

You sit in Edge's room on a couch in there, typing away at something on your laptop. You'd been working for a few hours now, wanting to get something done before you could let yourself have free time.

It isn't until you hear the sound of familiar heel clicks that you look up, seeing Edge looking down at you. His hands on both sides of your head on the back of the couch. You shoot him a smile with lazy eyes.

"Hey, Edge." "What Are You Doing?" "Working, why?" "You've Been Working Since I Left Earlier To Go To The Store. Are You Not Tired?" "I'm usually the one to ask you that..how funny." "You're Dodging The Question, Love."

You feel your face heat up at his softer tone of voice..and the nickname.

"I just wanted to get some stuff done, y'know?.." "Well, You Need To Take A Break." "Well..what do you suggest I do otherwise?" "Obviously, You Could Spend The Day With Me." "Would you like that, Paps?"

He gives you a smirk. "Would I Ask If I Wouldn't?" "Fair enough." You close your laptop lightly, putting it away somewhere safe. "So, where to first?" "Since It's Just About Gyftmastime, We Should Bake Sweets To Celebrate. It's Tradition, After All." "You just want sweets, don't you?" "It! Is Entirely For Traditional Reasons! Come Along Now." His cheekbones flush a little red as he walks out, and you can't help but smile at his actions as you follow him downstairs to the kitchen.

"Now Then," He puts an apron over his sweater that you got him a while back, grabbing ingredients and his recipe books. "What Do You Suggest We Bake First?" "Hmmm..how about some cookies? Starting off simple." "That'll Do." He grabs what you'd both need for the cookies, sitting them down on the counter.

You look over the recipe book, sitting down a little bowl and pouring in a mix Edge had previously bought for the occasion. You then focus on mixing some ingredients together, Edge cracking the eggs and dropping the yolks in the bowl, disposing of the shells. You focus on mixing for a moment until you feel his arms wrap around you from behind, feeling your face heat up a bit.

"You've Been Working Too Hard Recently..If You're Going To Get Onto Me About That Then I Think It's Only Fair I Do The Same." He rests the bottom of his chin on the top of your head. "Edge.." "You Need To Take More Breaks. Relax For A Bit, Take Care Of Yourself. Of Course, I'd Be More Than Happy To Take Care Of You..But It'd Be Ideal For You To Do That For Yourself As Well." "Look at you, worrying about lil' ol' me." You smile a little. "It's My Job To Worry. I Love You More Than Anything Else In This World. You Mustn't Forget That."

You sit the bowl down, turning to him and staring up into his eyelights.

"And what if I do forget?.." "Then I Suppose I'll Just Have To Remind You, Won't I?" "I wouldn't mind that." "Of Course You Wouldn't."

You grin, leaning up a bit and pressing your lips to his teeth. He leans down a bit, returning the gesture, placing his hand on the back of your head to comfortably hold your head in place. The rest of your surroundings seem to slip away..only the sound of the fire and the lighthearted music being heard.

After a moment, you both pull away, your faces both burning bright.

"That never gets old-" "It..Truly Doesn't."

You turn your focus back to the bowl, finishing up mixing everything together, placing the dough onto a pan carefully, separating it. You then entrust Edge with putting the cookies into the oven since he can't feel the heat with his hands.

"So...after this, maybe we could watch something together. Just you and me, maybe in your room? Or mine, it doesn't matter. I just..want to be with you for a while. If that's okay, of course." "Of Course It Is, Love. My Door Is Always Open For You, You Know That." "I knowwww. I'm just making sure. I wouldn't want to overstep a boundary."

He chuckles, messing up your hair a little, earning a pout from you as you fix it back.

"Don't Worry About It."

There's a peaceful silence between you with the exception of the music, before you get an idea and stop leaning on the counter.

"Gimme your hand." "Why?" "Just do it, please."

He looks a bit confused before you take his hand, holding it with your own and putting your other hand over his shoulder. He sees what you're trying to do, adjusting his posture and placing his hands in their proper places.

The two of you slowly sway to the music, simply admiring each other as you do.

Snow softly hits the windows of your house, freezing them. Human and monster children alike play together in the snow outside, building snowpeople and other entities, having snowball fights, and overall just a great time.

Despite the cold outside, all you can feel right now is..warmth. Just as you always have in Edge's company..

The timer going off interrupts the peace, and the two of you separate to take them out of the oven. You press a kiss against his cheek while he's leaning down, earning another sly smirk from him in return.

"Alrighty, let's decorate these and make them pretty." "After You."

#sleeplessflower's oneshots #underfell papyrus x reader #edge (underfell) x reader #gender neutral reader #underfell papyrus #so many headcanons attached #i love him

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thatoneuchiha · 1 year

Text

Orphan

plot: kaku meets a kid who turns out to be an orphan

warnings: she/her pronouns and female oriented words usage (wife etc), tooth rotting fluff + slight x reader

(gif is not mine)

Kakucho was on his way home, to his wife. Just like any normal day, as normal as it can be in Bonten, he took the road he would always use.

Wanting to surprise his wife with the sudden idea crossing his mind, he parked in front of a bakery. He checked his phone to see if he was late or if he would be late, he didn't want to stress Y/N, knowing she already enough on her palate with her upcoming projects.

He payed for his baked goods before heading back to his car.

Kakucho felt so lucky, all his life he had dreamt of a family of his own, especially after his parents' death... But let's not get into that, right? These are his happy thoughts, not the time for emotional crap, he thought.

Of course he couldn't stop himself from thinking about his life in the orphanage, how would his life end up like if his parents hadn't died? Would he have still met Y/N? One thing for sure, he wouldn't end up as a gangster, probably a very normal job he would have.

To his surprise he clashed into something- no, someone.

Looking down he noticed a little girl, five years old or so...

"Sorry, I wasn't looking." he apologized to the girl. He looked around to see her parents yet he couldn't see anyone. "Wait, where are your parents?"

The little girl shrugged,

"At home," she replied. "I just wanted to go to the park, that's why I'm out if that's what you're wondering, mister."

Kakucho shot her an unimpressed look,

"So you're telling me that your parents let you go out at this hour... when it's already dark outside?"

She didn't meet his eyes, instead shrugged again.

"Come on, let's drop you home, little one."

She got in the car with Kakucho's help, she looked very fragile and thin... as if she wasn't eating much. She had such nice clothes though.

Little girl glanced at the sweets as her stomach grumbled.

"Want some sweets?" Kakucho offered, handing her one of the boxes.

She started munching on a chocolate chipped cookie without a word.

"Can you tell me if you know your address, little one?" asked Kaku as he started the engine.

"I dunno." she kept on munching the cookie, not giving a second thought.

"Then we'll have to go to the police station, they will be able to help y-"

"N0!" screamed the kid with a face full of crumbs. "Not the police station..."

Kakucho stopped the car and tuned to look at her,

"Why are you afraid of the police?"

He himself was too, but for a good reason. He was already planning on dropping the kid to the station and getting home before getting in trouble with the police.

"I... I lied, okay?" she averted her big, doe eyes, sadly. "I don't have a family, I was actually just planning to eat some of your cookies. That's what I usually do anyways."

"And you didn't get caught? Not even once?" he asked still surprised with the fact that such thing took place right after his thoughts about the orphanage? Was this a sign?

"A few times, but I managed to escape each time." she said as she reached for the doorknob.

Kakucho locked the car.

"I can't let you roam in the streets all by yourself, kid." he declared.

"Oh please, you'll forget about me in a few days anyways, it's not even that bad." she rolled her eyes.

She seemed too sassy for a five year old.

"It is that bad," he shook his head. "I'd know."

"How? You seem pretty rich, there's no way you're homeless."

"I was though, when I was a kid... I lost my parents in a car accident. It wasn't easy, not until I found my best friend... he knew how to do a lot of stuff. We got in tons of trouble too... You know," he said pointing at his scar, "I got this in that accident."

She was sunken in her seat,

"I don't have anywhere else I've got to go anyways... My parents had cut off their families out of their lives so I never met them. And now that they're gone... I don't have anyone."

Kakucho felt as if he was looking at a younger version of himself... right after the accident, lost.

"I will help you," he said, then warned, "But I need you to promise me that you won't run away."

She nodded her head, sniffling.

"Now let's stop frowning, everything will be okay, also we'll eat dinner at home. You still hungry, kid?" Kakucho smiled softly.

Little girl smiled through her tears,

"Are you gonna cook?"

"Nope, but one day I can, for sure. My wife has probably already pepared something." His eyes went wide, he checked his phone. "I forgot to tell her I'll be late-"

The little girl giggled from the backseat,

"Seems like you're in trouble."

A/N: should I make a pt 2 or an Izana version???

#kakucho x reader #kakucho hitto #kakucho scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers oneshot #tokyo revengers imagines #kaku x reader #tokyo revengers

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unpredictable-probabilities · 2 months

Text

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 22: Halloween Tour Date

Summary:

Jamil decides to spend their first day together touring Azul around NRC's Campus in the midst of Halloween Week.

Many offer their support, though a certain student has different intentions in mind...

Word Count: 3,894

At the head of the dining table is Jade, writing in his notebook. To his left, Floyd and Rielle seem to be in the middle of a pleasant conversation. Beside Rielle is Ruggie, drawing things on Ace's face while the freshman is sleeping on his arms on the table, seated across from Ruggie. The two vacant chairs are between Jade and Ace.

Ruggie sniffs the air when they arrive and turns to look at them. "Aw yeah food's here!"

"I trust you didn't wait too long?" Azul asks as he and Jamil set down the plates on the table.

"Nah we just got here," Floyd says through a wide yawn.

"Thank you for cooking breakfast," Rielle smiles at them. "You didn't have to wake up so early for us.”

"It wasn't any trouble at all," Jamil replies, sitting next to Ace and taking a sip from his coffee cup. "Besides, we already spent the whole day yesterday sleeping." He nods at the freshman beside him. "Looks like someone hasn't recovered from our late-night excursion." He gives Ace a poke. "Hey. It's rude to sleep at the dining table."

Ace violently jerks up. "Gah! Don't behead m— Bwah?"

"Mornin', Crabbyyyyyy," Floyd croons, snickering.

Ace blinks and then gazes at the meal before them. "Oh, food!"

"You got that right!" Ruggie rubs his hands together. "C'mon, let's dig in!"

"Do you cook a lot, Jamil?" Rielle asks as they all begin eating.

"I've been cooking since I was a kid and I often cook for my dorm members,” Jamil replies.

“Ah, I see. I saw the cookies you made for Azul back at the ball, I was surprised to see him eating them since he usually avoids snacking. They must have been good for him to finish them."

"Must have been?" Azul looks at Rielle pointedly. "You ate three of those cookies yourself."

"And I don't regret it!" Rielle says with a grin.

"Ehhhh? Sea Snake, you made treats and you didn't give us any?" Floyd complains, looking at Azul. "Octyyyyy, make him make us treats, tooooo!"

Azul chuckles. "I don't think any of us can make Jamil do anything, Floyd."

Ace snorts beside Jamil. "Yeah, right. This guy doesn't know his power," he mutters to Ruggie.

Floyd gasps at Jamil in realization. "Hey! You said gifts weren't needed at the ball! But you brought Octy a gift!"

"I liked your gift too, Floyd," Rielle reassures him, holding up his wrist and pulling his sleeve back to show a bracelet where he had affixed a button as a charm. "See?" he smiles.

Floyd's mouth gapes open as he stares at the bracelet, then at Rielle's face. "I'd make out with you right here but Jade has been gettin' on me about my table manners lately."

Rielle's face goes red and he laughs nervously, averting his eyes. "Th-That's—" he clears his throat. "Anyway, maybe I can bring treats next time I come here."

"A... button?" Ruggie asks in confusion.

"Aww, lookit Floyd being such a charmer!" Ace teases.

"It's a good thing you imposed that restriction, Jade," Jamil mutters. "I don't think my appetite can handle watching Floyd tear into Rielle this early in the morning."

Jade chuckles in amusement. “It really has been a delight having you all around; do feel free to visit Octavinelle whenever it pleases you. It’s a shame we must go our separate ways today.”

"Shoot, you're right!" Ace hisses, sitting straight up. "I can’t be late for Heartslabyul's assembly! It's my costume shift today!"

"And I gotta buy some snacks for the cubs at Sam's shop later." Ruggie hums. "Leona's idea. Don't tell anyone, though. He wants to keep coming off as aloof as ever. What about you lil' lovebirds?"

"No, no, haven't you learned, Ruggie?" Jade playfully chastises him. "Only Floyd and Rielle are the lovebirds here."

Ruggie snorts. "Right, and Leona and I are just friends. I been hangin' out with these two since Azul's first visit here," he points at both of them in turn with his spoon. "And like I told Jamil back then, my nose never lies," he taps on the side of his nose with his finger.

He smirks meaningfully, and Jamil suddenly remembers how Ruggie had said in detention that Jamil had Azul's scent all over him.

And that was just after one hug that only lasted for a handful of seconds.

Jamil tries his best to focus on his food and keep a straight face despite feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

Jade then politely clears his throat. "Azul, Rielle, what will you be doing today? Does the committee have any duties of their own to attend to?"

"Ah, I'm currently suspended from the committee as I'm still recovering," Azul says.

"I have to coordinate with your Halloween committee later to finalize the catering," Rielle answers. "All in all, Azul and I don't have to go back to RSA until later this afternoon."

"Awww, can't you sleep here again?" Floyd pouts at Rielle.

"I'll keep visiting whenever I can," Rielle smiles at him, putting a hand on top of his.

Floyd brightens up. "And I can visit RSA! If Sea Snake can fly all the way over there to smooch his crush, I can too!"

"I wasn't smooching him," Jamil huffs. Not back then, at least. “Finish your breakfast.”

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road and make everyone see just how awesome this year's Halloween Week's gonna be!" Ace proudly declares, new energy pumping through his veins from both the coffee, the meal, and the looming threat of getting clocked by his own Prefect.

After freshening up with showers, the group soon split up by the Hall of Mirrors, with Jade and Rielle heading for the assembly hall where the Halloween Committee would be holding a meeting.

Ruggie saluted them then dipped into Savanaclaw's mirror, Ace practically ran for Heartslabyul's, and Floyd… well, he had almost followed Rielle, but when he was told that only committee members would be allowed in, he groaned and slinked off to who knows where.

Jamil then wordlessly offers his hand for Azul to hold.

Azul looks surprised for a moment, but he smiles softly and takes Jamil's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Where shall we go first?"

"Since you're not in any committee, we'll be treating you like a guest here, Mister Ashengrotto," Jamil replies playfully. "We're getting you a stamp ticket first, and the closest booth that'd give those would be at the clock tower near Sam's shop. Visit all the special locations and get them stamped and you'll get yourself a lil' prize." He leads Azul out of the building, where paved roads, foliage, and lampposts are adorned with pumpkins, streamers, and festive lights blending in with the trees' autumn colors.

"Oh? And what prize would that be?" Azul asks in interest. "Or is that an NRC secret?"

Other students are starting to notice their linked hands, and several of them turn their heads and look at Jamil curiously.

"It's not a secret, it's just candy," Jamil replies. He notices the stares. He tells himself that it's all right and simply sticks even closer to Azul. "Why? Hoping for another kind of treat?"

Azul raises an eyebrow playfully, "I am." Then his voice lowers to almost a purr and he leans his face closer to Jamil's. "I'm hoping for something much sweeter than candy." Then he chuckles and stands up properly again like nothing happened. "What do we have to do at the clock tower to get a stamp?"

Jamil widens his eyes at Azul's bold flirt right in the middle of the street and takes a few seconds to blink and recover before responding, "What… do we have to do..? Oh er… nothing, really. Just find the guy assigned for giving out those stamp sheets and move on. The school hasn't opened to the public yet so we'll have a few moments of peace before the visitors crowd in."

And so they arrive at the clock tower. To the right, Sam's shop is seen, decked out in tapestries, carpets, haybales and pumpkins to resemble an abandoned marketplace. Many of the Scarabia students are tidying up the area, dressed in a scarlet-and-white ensemble as they don fake wolf ears and tails.

A few of them notice the duo approaching and proceed to greet them with waves and hearty "good mornings".

"Prefect! Thank goodness you're here!" One of them calls out. "We need more hands in the make-up department and Mister Sam needs help with restocking!"

"Idiot," hisses someone else. "Can't you see he's on a date with Mister Azul right now?"

"Oh, are you needed here?" Azul turns to Jamil. "It's alright, we can continue the tour later." He turns to the other residents. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"OH! No, i-it's okay! Never mind! We got this handled—" stammers the student asking for help.

"It's all right," Jamil calmly reassures them, decidedly not refuting the fact that they're on a date. "I also came here to assist and make up for my absence yesterday." He turns to Azul and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, this'll be quick. Maybe you can see if you can help Sam. He should be inside his shop."

Azul smiles at him and squeezes his hand back. "Alright, I shall see you in a bit." He gives a friendly nod to the other residents and goes inside the shop.

"Prefect, are you really dating Mister Azul now?" a bright-eyed first year asks him excitedly.

"Sshh, don't pester Prefect!" says a sophomore passing by carrying fake wolf ears and a makeup kit.

"Is he gonna borrow our dorm uniform again?" another first year asks.

The sophomore scoffs. "You just wanna ogle Mister Azul's biceps."

"I do not!" he blushes fiercely.

"Is Mister Azul your boyfriend now?" the first year repeats his question louder to talk over the others, turning the heads of their other dormmates.

Jamil stares awkwardly at the numerous Scarabia kids looking at him.

"I… well... Does that matter right now?"

"He's not denying it," sing-songs someone from the group.

"Aw, come on, boss! There's no need to be shy! We're only asking 'cause we're rooting for you two!"

"Yeah! We could prolly help too, if you let us in on the deets!"

Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's unnecessary. If you really wanna help, just don't pester Azul about any of this, okay?" He glances around to make sure no one else is listening in before he mumbles. "Just so you can stop asking, yes… I guess you can say we're dating now."

There are a few gasps, then scattered claps and cheers among his residents.

"I KNEW IT!" a sophomore pumps his fist in the air. "When he offered to tutor us with the study sheets, the payment he asked for was for us to stop setting up dangerous traps for you, boss."

"Yeah, he thought we wanted to kill you or something to take your place!" says his resident with a fondness for quicksand traps.

"Glad we sorted it out, though," says the one who usually paid attention to the study sheets. "He looked worried about you, Prefect."

"I'm so excited to learn from both of you, boss!"

"He's really cute," the first year says dreamily.

"Sshh!" another sophomore scolds him.

"What? I didn't say I wanna date him, I'm just saying Prefect has good taste!" the first year says defensively.

"SHUSH! SHHHH!" Jamil hisses at all of them, though he can't deny that there was something that felt nice to have his romantic interests be met with such enthusiasm. "Quit it! If you really wanna be supportive, then don't be embarrassing! Come on, gimme those make-up kits."

"You heard 'im, fellas! The sooner we get this finished, the sooner they can get back to their date!"

"YEAH!" Everyone exclaims.

Jamil sighs again and momentarily closes his eyes as he feels his face warm.

His residents maintain a giddy energy throughout their work, but to their credit they still did their jobs efficiently.

After making sure that everyone already has makeup on, Jamil wonders if he should check on Azul. He hasn't seen him ever since he went inside to help restock shelves, and Jamil realizes that he doesn't know whether Azul has taken a break yet, or exactly how many boxes he's had to lift already.

"All right, are you guys good to go?" Jamil asks the students.

There’s a scattered reply of “Yeah!”.

"Okay, good. Just hit me up with a text if you guys run into any problems."

"Aye-aye, sir!"

Jamil then makes his way to Sam’s shop, already feeling worried about Azul. He better not be exerting himself too much in there…

"...We're not gonna be contacting Prefect, are we?" Test-Groaner asks Gossipmonger once Jamil was out of earshot.

"And ruin their first date as a couple? Hell no." Gossipmonger scoffs.

Jamil opens the door to the shop and he hears Sam's laughter along with Azul's; they seem to have just finished a conversation.

Sam says he'd go check the stocks in the back, and he leaves with a friendly wave.

Azul turns back to his work and stocks the shelf behind him. He had removed his coat and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows; the muscles in his arms and torso flex under his shirt as he reaches up to stock the topmost shelves.

A student in a vampire costume smoothly walks from one of the aisles and approaches Azul.

Pomefiore, Jamil thinks.

"Azul Ashengrotto, isn't it?" he asks, standing behind Azul.

Azul glances behind him and turns to face the student with a polite smile. "Yes, good morning."

"Hansel Finnegan, Pomefiore," he says in his silken voice, extending a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," Azul takes the handshake, standing straight like a proper RSA student.

"Oh no, not yet," Hansel says with a low chuckle, then he smoothly bows and lifts Azul's hand, brushing his lips lightly against the back of it.

Azul's eyebrows raise in surprise, but Hansel takes a step closer to him before he can say anything.

"Will you be staying long?" Hansel asks. "I can show you around, the Pomefiore castle looks especially gorgeous this week," he tilts his head.

"Ah," Azul seems to realize Hansel's intentions, but he retains his polite smile. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I already have plans."

"Oh? No more room in your schedule for a neck-biting creature of the night, then?" Hansel says playfully, taking another step forward.

Azul subtly tries to put more distance between them, but his back hits the shelf.

Jamil was quick to act, eyes shooting daggers as he makes his way over and clamps a hand on Hansel's shoulder.

"Hey," he greets, trying to sound as neutral as he can. He doubts his eyes are looking anywhere near friendly, though. "If we're talking about schedules, I heard your Prefect's calling all the costumed students over to the Pomefiore booth. Gates are gonna open in ten minutes and I wouldn't wanna be late if I were you."

Hansel turns to look at him distractedly. "Huh? Oh, that's more than enough time." He turns to Azul again. "What do you say, Azul? Would you like to come with me and see our booth?"

"I'm still busy at the moment," Azul gestures to the shelf. "I'm sure I'll have time to visit the Pomefiore booth later today."

"Our booth would be swarmed once the gates open because of our Prefect. I’m sure you know who Vil Schoenheit is," Hansel says with an air of smugness. "If you come with me now, I can give you a private tour, I'll show you behind the scenes of our preparations," he smiles and flutters his eyelids, his glitter eyeshadow drawing more attention to the color of his eyes.

"Such hospitable treatment…" Jamil mutters, slipping in between the both of them. "Perhaps you're better off dedicating that energy to actual visitors. He's already got a tour guide. It's me. Now back off before I knock those fake dentures out of you."

Hansel looks taken aback at Jamil's words, then he sneers. "And what makes you think you'd be a better tour guide than me? You're not even in costume."

"Hansel," Azul speaks up. "We wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your Prefect. Perhaps you should go to your booth now."

Hansel clenches his jaw for a moment. "Alright. But I'll look for you again, Azul." He looks at Jamil. "You don't have sole claim to him."

Jamil makes a friendly smile, seeing that Hansel is making direct eye contact with him.

And at that moment, he activates his Signature Spell.

He doesn't even need to do the chant for a chump like Hansel.

"Jamil…?" Azul mutters behind him, confused at what's happening.

The smugness in Hansel's smile disappears as his face goes slack, his blank now-crimson eyes staring at Jamil.

"Are you sure that Azul is something to be claimed?" Jamil sweetly asks, tilting his head. "You don't actually mean that, right?"

Hansel pauses for a moment before he shakes his head.

"Shouldn't you apologize to him for spouting all that stupid stuff, then?"

Hansel stiffly turns to Azul and bows, remorseful. "I'm sorry for being such a pee-pee poo-poo head, Azul."

Jamil snorts, trying to keep his laughter in. "You're doing great, er... Hansel, right?"

"Yes, Master," Hansel perks up, looking up at Jamil with great reverence. "Thank you, Master."

Azul's mouth opens in surprise. "Jamil," he says in a playfully scolding tone. "Using your Signature Spell for something like this, really?"

Jamil smiles back at Azul. "I know. A very worthwhile endeavor, no?" He turns to Hansel. "You, every time you look at Azul, any sense of inappropriate urges you get leaves you tongue-tied and unable to speak. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," Hansel furiously nods.

"Great! Now then… Why don't you head on over to your booth and really play your part as a fun vampire for the visitors to enjoy? Your Prefect would really appreciate all your efforts, I'm sure."

"Yes, Master," Hansel says in determination and bows deeply to Jamil before walking out of the door.

Azul stares after him in awe, then looks at Jamil in concern. "Are you feeling alright? That's quite the powerful magic you just used."

Jamil shrugs, feeling fine. "Honestly, he's one of the easiest targets I've had in a long time. I'm okay, don't worry. More importantly, looks like you gotta stop being so desirable, otherwise I really might end up having to resort to all kinds of methods just to keep people from trying anything. Seriously, though, he was being a creep. Are you all right?"

"It was a little unsettling, but yes I'm alright," Azul reassures him. "And what part of this is desirable, exactly?" he says in a more playful tone. "I'm doing grunt work restocking shelves."

"Mm-hm, and you look good doing it, that's the problem," Jamil replies pointedly. "If I was restocking shelves and I didn't have my jacket while my sleeves were rolled up, how would you react?"

A smile appears on Azul's face, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, I don't know," he says in a feigned innocent tone. "Maybe you should try it so we can find out."

Jamil grins and shrugs. "You don't mind me just watching, do you? I already did all my grunt work outside." He does feel a little winded from all the running around they did while applying makeup and helping the other residents get in costume.

"Of course I don't mind, I'm almost done here, anyway," Azul says sincerely as he continues to stock the shelves.

Jamil glances around the interior to prevent himself from ogling his boyfriend too much. "By the way, other than that rude guy who just left, what do you think of this shop, as an aspiring business owner yourself?"

"It’s fascinating," Azul says. "Sam wasn't lying; it looks like you can find anything in here, stocking these shelves showed me that. I'm guessing you guys buy most of the stuff you need here?"

"Yep. Not once have I ever seen Sam run out of stock on something unless a whole dorm went and bought one specific item off of the shelves. Even then, they'd be fully restocked the next day... Not to mention that he seems to know what you're looking for even before you walk into his shop." He casts another glance around the shop's wares, suspicious this time. "Convenient, but a little unsettling… Do you guys have shops at RSA?"

"Perhaps that's part of his magic skills," Azul says, not sounding unsettled at all. "His shadow does seem to be sentient; I wouldn't be surprised if he has other powers that help him know what his customers want. And yes, we have shops at RSA, but they're different little shops for different things set up all over campus; instead of one big shop like this where you can find most things already."

He puts the last of the stocks on the shelves and brushes off his hands. He takes a step back and rests his hands on his hips, looking up and down the shelves.

"That looks proper enough, right?"

Jamil steps next to Azul and stares at the shelves before him. "I wouldn't know, since I don't know what's supposed to be stocked here, but... they seem perfectly fine to me. Look at you," he gives Azul an affectionate nudge on the shoulder. "Perhaps you'd make a good 'humble dockworker' hauling stuff around if the entrepreneur thing doesn't work out."

"Dockworker could work, everytime I need to renew my shifting potion I'd just jump in the water," Azul says playfully, then he walks over to the coat rack and takes his coat, draping it over his arm.

Jamil takes out a black glossy pamphlet and holds it out for Azul. "By the way, it's the stamp booklet. I managed to get one for you, just in time for—"

"Attention all students: Night Raven College's gates have now officially opened for visitors on Halloween Week's Second Day,” an announcement blares over the speakers outside.

"...That. C'mon, let's get the Scarabia stall stamped before we get swarmed with more people who could catch you looking this nice."

"’This nice'?" Azul asks as he and Jamil get out of the shop. "You do know this is just my school uniform. Every student in RSA wears this," he says in fond amusement.

"No, unfortunately even with the RSA coat trying to hide it, there's all this Azul charm going on around here." Jamil playfully gestures at the merman's face. "If I didn't know any better, I could say you're the one hypnotizing people towards you."

Azul laughs, his cheeks turning pink. "My, Jamil, are you saying you're feeling hypnotized by my charms?" he asks playfully through half-lidded eyes.

"As an expert on the subject, I have been for a long while now," Jamil replies, leaning forward to give Azul a kiss, beaming at the surprised and slightly flushed look on Azul’s face afterwards. "Now let's tell Sam we're heading off and get outta here already. Those booths aren't gonna explore themselves."

They bid goodbye to Sam—and his shadow—and head outside.

Author's Note:

For those who have read Chapter 14 of Granting Favors, you might recognize Hans of Pomefiore. Yes I did use the same OC in both fics. I just thought it would be funny for him to annoy Jamil in every universe 😌

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