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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - Part 20 (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: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). 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: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N: 🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, 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 AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“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.”

“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.”

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“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.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded. You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips.

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

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cutejk123 · 4 months ago

Text

Violet's Friends

So a couple of weeks ago, I used picrew to create Blossom's friends. I promised you guys that I would do Violet's friends (Luigi and Daisy's eldest daughter fan child), So here they are:

Which one is your favourite out of all of them, let me know <3

Here is the link

TOON ME! ⟪ A ⟫｜Picrew

Lilliahoshi

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: May 13th

White

Dad- Andy, Mum- Shirahoshi (The mermaid princess from ''One Piece''- a fan child)

Has a 19 year old older brother named Rikoboshi and a 16 year old older brother named Saunoboshi

Has 3 pets: A Ragdoll cat (Female, colour: blue bicolour) named Aqua, a Husky dog (Male, colour: black and white) named Megolo II and a Holland Lop rabbit (Female, colour: white) named Melody

She is a mermaid princess and she is part of the mermaid royalty

Also, she has a mermaid form

She is a Christian

She is Violet's best friend, they hang out a lot together and have lots of fun. Also they are there for each other no matter what.

Such an Amazing Singer

Lilliahoshi first met Violet when they were babies, since both their parents know each other very well and they have been very close ever since. They love to see each other as much as they can. Another thing that Lilliahoshi is Violet's opposite, Violet is the tomboy and Lilliahoshi is the girly girl.

Personality: kind, a sweetheart, friendly, a cry-baby (like her mother), cowardly, royal, grateful, shy, gentle, talented, humble, a bit gassy, sensitive, creative.

Loves: singing, learning about her mermaid line, mermaids, the ocean, sea animals, playing the piano and violin, hanging out with friends (especially Violet), Violet's little sister Blossom, her family, her pets, swimming, shopping, music, collecting shells, giving hugs and kisses, going to the beach.

Dislikes: sharks, being embarrassed, the dark, being gassy a lot, screaming, loud noises, creepy animals like bats, people negatively commenting on her looks, dark stories.

Clothing aesthetic style: VSCO, Soft girl and Mermaidcore.

Delilah

Age 14

Female

Lesbian, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: September 27th

White

Dad- Alvin, Mum- Joanne

Has a 10 year old younger brother named Alvin Jr.

Has no pets

She wears heart-shaped glasses on her head.

She's in love with Y2K/90s girl bands and she even have lots of posters in her room.

She came out as a lesbian around the same time when she turned 14 years old and her parents and her brother were very accepted for that and believes that she can be in love with anyone that she wants to choose.

She is part of the Girls' Basketball team at school.

She has a Lesbian flag up in her room.

Delilah first met Violet during the first day of the spring term, when they were 13 years old. Delilah had moved house and as a result, also have to move schools. Delilah was very nervous but Violet welcomed her into her friendship group and from that point, they became great friends. Also, Violet has been very supportive of Delilah's sexual orientation and accepts her as a human being who is loved.

Personality: tomboyish, loyal, friendly, cool, sociable, funny, kind, supportive, honest, sassy, strong, brave, adventurous, personable.

Loves: basketball, sports, Y2K music, The Spice Girls, Britpop, making videos about her sexual orientation and Y2K things, yoga, hanging out with friends, bubble tea, going to parties, going to clothes shopping.

Dislikes: getting sick, people being homophobic, waking up too early, fake people, tomatoes, certain drama, selfishness, coconuts, burnt popcorn.

Clothing aesthetic style: Y2K.

Fatima

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: April 6th

Asian- Arabic (Saudi)

Dad- Adeel, Mum- Zara

Has a 11 year old younger sister named Halima, an 8 year old younger brother named Qamar, a 5 year old younger brother named Ezra (has autism), and a 2 year old younger sister named Basma (has autism).

Has 1 pet: A Persian cat (Male, colour: ginger) named Biscuit.

She was originated from Saudi Arabia, and she moved to Brooklyn when she was 8 years old.

She has Autism (ASD)

She is a Muslim

Supports Palestine (Free Palestine!!)

She is a Bookworm and would read books every day.

Arabic is her first language, so she has an Arabic accent

She is a member of the Book Club at school and really enjoys talking about books (that is her main hyperfixation).

Fatima first met Violet during English class in primary school, when they were 9 years old. Fatima started talking about her favourite books that she loved to read and Violet was interested in Fatima's love for books and they friendship grew.

Personality: smart, thoughtful, kind, friendly, cheerful, childlike, bright, hard-worker, silly at times, creative, curious.

Loves: reading, books, her family and friends, writing stories, poems and fanfiction, watching children's shows, Bluey, Muslim holidays, playing games with her siblings, bedtime stories, learning about book history, relaxing time, cooking.

Dislikes: modern music, travelling far, sports, dirty rooms, rude people, bullying about her interests, wasps.

Clothing aesthetic style: Light Academia and Cottagecore.

Cordelia

Age 14

Female

Bisexual, Demigirl

She/they

Birthday: December 10th

White

Dad- Logan, Mum- Meghan

Has a 12 year old younger sibling (sister) named Angel, who is non-binary and goes by they/them (They are in Violet's little sister Blossom's year/class and they are good friends with River and Mars, which are Blossom's friends).

Has 2 pets: A Maine Coon cat (Male, colour: black) named Boxy, and a Golden Retriever (Female, colour: yellow) named Mei.

She has Anxiety

She is really good at playing the electric guitar.

She is a TikToker

Gothic lover

She is a video gamer and they sometimes streams when they are free or have time.

She also is learning how to speak Japanese, and they are quite good at it.

Cordelia first met Violet during Art class when they were 12 years old, Violet was impressed by Cordelia's drawing abilities. Cordelia jokily said, ''That's my superpower.'' They laughed together and the friendship grew ever since.

Personality: moody, sensitive, sassy, kind, helpful, thoughtful, cool, charming, gentle, a bit rude, responsible, creative, tomboyish.

Loves: drawing, art, rock and gothic music, playing the electric guitar, cosplaying, making TikTok videos, anime, spiders, Bluey, playing video games, hanging out with friends, going to anime conventions, Japanese language, her sibling and their pets, J-rock boy bands.

Dislikes: being lonely, having panic attacks, tight rooms, people annoying her, crowded areas, pop music, cute and bright pastel colours, maths.

Clothing aesthetic style: Goth and E-girl.

Tori

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: July 1st

Black

Dad- Nathan, Mum- Harmony

She is the only child

Has 1 pet: A Pomeranian dog (Female, colour: white) named Nova.

A Fashion enthusiast (mainly on Y2K, Mcbling and Baddie).

A Great Singer

A Bracelet Maker and she often makes jewellery that is inspired by the Y2K era.

She is a Make-up artist and would do her friends' make up for amazing parties or special occasions.

Tori first met Violet in primary school, when they were 4 years old. Both Tori and Violet were in the same class, so they became really good friends, alongside Lilliahoshi. Also Tori loved doing people's hair and decorating it with hair accessories, so she did both Violet's and Lilliahoshi's hair and using accessories to make it prettier.

Personality: cheerful, funny, giggly, kind, friendly, fashionable, thoughtful, a bit sassy, lovable, enthusiastic.

Loves: jewellery making, singing, learning about fashion, fashion styles, designing clothes, her family and friends, hanging out with friends, make-up, watching Y2K shows, Barbie and Bratz dolls, making bracelets for her friends, her dog, the colour pink, reading fashion magazines, doing people's hairstyles, Y2K music.

Dislikes: messy rooms, being disorganised, people being mean and rude, petty drama, getting sick, jealous people, science, geography.

Clothing aesthetic style: Baddie, Y2K, and Barbiecore.

Now, my Luigi and Daisy's fanchildren's friends and their AUs are complete ;)

my friends, I hope you guys like it @itsavee4117 @gracegootee @jessythebunny @jammyjams1910 @oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh @mrs-luigi-vargas

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blakeswritingimagines · 2 years ago

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One of their friends likes you as well

Eddie: He’d probably be very upset. He would try to talk to you about it, and see what you say about everything. He would probably get really insecure and end up pushing you away without thinking about it or really trying to. He would start to think that he's ugly and that the other person is more better looking, smarter, or funnier. He would be jealous, and angry, and feel like you don’t love him. He'll start to feel like he's not good enough but he just needs to be babied.

Gareth: Gareth gets really jealous and pissed off. He’s known the guy his whole life, then they suddenly want to date the person he really likes?! He becomes distant from his friend, only talking to him when necessary. He might not outright be rude, but he will be really passive-aggressive and mean to him. The more the other guy pushes, the meaner Gareth gets. He’ll try to make his relationship with you seem better- show it off in front of the guy (he might try making the other dude jealous? Maybe)

Steve: Well he doesn't see you as his property, you are his partner, so the way he sees it you can have any friend you want. He trusts you, and if some other guy, or girl, happens to like you, he trusts you enough to know you're going to stay faithful. He thinks that's the way it should be. He trusts you to make your own choices and he doesn't try and tell you who you can and can't hang out with. That's not love, that's control. He also knows you love him.

Robin: Hm well. She would talk it over with them and try not to get mad. She knows people can’t control who they like, and neither can her friend. However, it is possible to control how she handles it. Of course, she would be jealous, but she would try to work things out between everyone. If it gets to a point where they start flirting with you, then... That’s a whole different story.”

Nancy: She’d probably get quite upset and jealous, but she values her relationship too much to let anything stand in the way of it. She’d simply let you know that you have to make a decision: her or the other person who also likes you. She knows you’d make the right choice, and she trusts you, it’s just a situation she would have like to have avoided

Jonathan: He would first try to get along with the person. However, if they were to get too close to you and show an increased intimacy towards you, he would probably have a very clear but firm discussion with them about his feelings. He would also try to have an open conversation with you about how he was feeling and what he was experiencing so that you could understand where he was coming from and hopefully avoid any misunderstandings.

Argyle: If a friend of his developed genuine feelings for his partner he would hope that you'd choose what's best for yourself and your relationship. This being said, he wouldn't want to try and control the situation or your feelings. If the attraction was mutual, you'd have to decide if you wanted to pursue it or stay with him. But I don't think there's anything he could do other than support you either way. After all, he cares about you and wants you to be happy, even if it's without him.

Billy: He'd take the person somewhere private, where nobody would hear them. He'd tell the person to stay away from you and not even think about you again, and he'd make sure it's understood exactly what would happen if the person didn't. If that didn't work, he'd be willing to resort to physical violence. He's not willing to share, not when it comes to something that means that much to him.

Henry: You are his partner and only his. He would never allow competition, and he would eliminate anyone who tried to take you from him. You would be his forever. His love there's no room for anyone else in his eyes.

#eddie munson x reader #gareth emerson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #jonathan byers x reader #argyle x reader #billy hargrove x reader #henry creel x reader #stranger things hc #stranger things headcanons #stranger things

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readingtheentrails · 1 year ago

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10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

Tagged by @missmacfire, thank you!

Okay, let's go!

1. Larissa Weems - Wednesday (2022)

Look, I'm obviously gonna pick Larissa first because I have made some genuine friends through the Larissa/Gwendoline fandom and that means she is my #1 baby girl/Menace Principal.

2. Moiraine Damodred - The Wheel of Time (2021)

It was hard to decide between Moiraine and Siuan, honestly, but Moiraine won out just because we get so much more screen time with her. She was the reason I came back to tumblr in the first place and I have such a lovely and supportive discord community thanks to her/the show. Her dedication to the mission about all else just gets me so 🫠

3. Aloy - Horizon Zero Dawn (2017)/Horizon Forbidden West (2022)

Aloy best girl 😍😍😍 I think the Horizon series might be my favourite games of all time. They are so much fun to play, the story is so interesting and Aloy is a great protagonist. She is strong, independent and doesn't bother trying to fit in. She does her own thing and I really respect that.

4. Xena - Xena Warrior Princess (1995)

Xena was so special to me as a little baby gay. The thirst I experienced was unbelievable but because her relationship with Gabrielle was (barely) subtext, it was safe for me to watch in a conservative rural environment.

5. Utena Tenjou - Revolutionary Girl Utena (1997)

This prince saves herself! Utena is iconic and this anime is one of the first shows that ever got me thinking about gender roles and patriarchy. Utena doesn't always get it right but she does try her best to help her friends.

6. Astarion - Baldur's Gate 3 (2023)

Look, I just love him. I would let him devour me with no regrets. I'm still in Act 1 of the game and he has absolutely seduced me with his charm.

7. Nadja of Antipaxos - What We Do In The Shadows (2019)

I cannot get enough of Nadja. The perfect all-powerful absolute idiot. Her own worst enemy. My beloved girlfail queen 👑.

8. The Captain - Ghosts (2019)

I love the Captain so very much. He's from an era when he literally would have been imprisoned for being open about his sexuality so he's so repressed and uptight but we see these little glimpses that are just wonderful and he's played with such care.

9. Kassandra - Assassin's Creed Odyssey (2018)

I still can't believe there are people out there who choose to play as Alexios when Kassandra is right there! She's amazing, such a badass and I never want to play another AC game because no other protagonist will ever be as good as her (also Ubisoft is evil).

10. Tissaia de Vries - The Witcher (2019)

Look, I just obviously have a thing for teachers who are a bit mean. Sorry not sorry to be a stereotype!

No pressure tagging @dianneking @weemssapphic @h-doodles @beaujes and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

#tag game #larissa weems #moiraine damodred #aloy #xena #utena tenjou #astarion #nadja of antipaxos #the captain bbc ghosts #kassandra ac odyssey #tissaia de vries

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bisexualfemalemess · 5 months ago

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BRIDGERTON SEASON THREE PART TWO SPOILERS

I’m actually not ready for this because it’s the last episode of the season and still so angsty but of course it has to be.

Already can’t do this. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE OPENING SHOT IS COLIN BROODING ON THE SOFA WHILE DRINKING HIS TEA FUCK OFF???? 😭😭😭 Communicate please??? Or at least look at her, colin. I actually can’t handle this. WORST MINUTE OF MY FUCKING LIFE, NOW HE’S FUCKING OFF TO BRIDGERTON HOUSE BECAUSE HE WISHES TO LEAVE????? MAKE UP OR I WILL KILL MYSELF!!!

Fuck off, cressida, not her knowing about lw and black-mailing her??? So much for her redemption arc. Not her telling portia??? Like that’s not your place???? Someone needs to give our baby a break. Aww, portia’s character arc is actually so important to me like not her thinking penelope just always left because her social battery died and she just let her be, that’s actually so cute. I swear if portia turns on her now too i’ll kill myself again, at least we got peneloise back though so maybe i won’t actually. WHY ARE PEOPLE SO PETTY TOWARDS HER ONCE THEY FIND OUT ABOUT WHISTLEDOWN??? LIKE THAT IS STILL THE SAME GIRL YOU KNEW MINUTES BEFOREHAND YOU JUST KNOW MORE ABOUT HER NOW???? At least penelope immediately tells colin this time so he cannot be petty about it.

DOES DANBURY KNOW??? Is this how we get agatha x penelope friendship next season??? Agatha bridgerton coming home????

Ooh a finch x dankworth ball??? Interesting. Oh? Francesca and john moving to scotland?

STOP BROODING COLIN AND TALK TO YOUR WIFE JFC! I love how eloise isn’t choosing sides, our baby girl has truly grown. AH! ELOISE SO TRUE “do not let your marriage be the scar.” Queen behavior, peneloise and polin soulmate-ism. Aww Poor baby pen sounds so tired of all the shit that’s happening to her. I love how they’re trying to figure out how to get penelope out of this situation and i love how colin ‘my wife’ bridgerton made an appearance even though he’s angry with her, 🗣️ He will not stand for anyone blackmailing his wife 🗣️ they’re all so shocked that baby girl’s filthy rich. ALSO LET HER FUCKING SPEAK. this is her mess, she was not looking for help just support and all of a sudden her opinions don’t matter anymore :( Y’all need to let go of your anger towards lw and try to support pen instead of trying to fight her battles for her. She’s just standing in the corner watching as they’re talking about her and what to do :( at least involve her, don’t ignore her and cut her off. Jesusss.

And Benedict’s having a threesome again, interesting but unnecessary.

Protective Colin bridgerton but he’s still angry with her :( “to hear word from home. From penelope, in fact.” STFUUUU STFUUU STFUUU JUST MAKE UP ALREADY WE DON’T NEED ALL THIS YEARNING AND ANGST AND PINING WE GOT ENOUGH OF IT IN PART ONE :((( Aside from that I’m actually so fucking happy that he essentially just called penelope his home, I’m actually gonna combust. I hate how he’s still trying to separate penelope from whistledown “penelope’s no villain” and then he goes on to say that he gets her hate for whistledown???? Did we not just learn that they were the same person, colin? CRESSIDA I STILL FEEL INDIFFERENT TOWARDS YOU BUT BLESS YOU FOR CLOCKING HIS TEA!!!!! “You do not sound as if you hate whistledown. You sound as if you are jealous of her.” PREACH IT! He shut that shit down to fast, like the moment he’s gonna admit that to himself he’s gonna be able to forgive her. THAT FUCK ASS WIG I HATE IT SO MUCH. PLEASE THE RESHOOT WIG MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A KEN DOLL LIKE ITS SO PLASTIC 😭😭😭😭

PENELOISE SCENE I LOVE THAT THEY’RE BACK. “tell me what you are reading?”With eloise grabbing her hand? 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 WAR IS SO TRULY OVER. Colin literally fucked up so bad, not cressida asking for double 🙄🙄🙄 Also penelope’s dress in this scene is so gorgeous. Aww, he’s willing to lie to Benedict for his wife so that the cressida drama can stop. PLEASE JUST MAKE UP YOU IDIOTS. Awwww eloise grabbing her hand in support. I just know peneloise and polin will mirror the christina x meredith x derek dynamic from grey’s with Eloise just bursting into their home unannounced and colin will understand but still be so tired of it.

STOP CUTTING TO BENEDICT THREESOMES THEY HAVE NOTHING TO ADD TO THE STORY IN THIS EPISODE 😭😭😭😭😭

Honestly the lady danbury and violet friendship is so special to me like violet did not care that she was running around with her dad and Agatha loves her more than her brother, that’s so cute.

STOP IT RIGHT NOW THE POLIN SCENE LIKE HE WANTED HER AND HE LOVES HER BUT HE CANT BE WITH HER UNTIL EVERYTHINGS FULLY OKAY BETWEEN THEN BECAUSE HE’S A DEMI SEXUAL KING. THEY NEED TO MAKE UP SO BAD SO THAT THEY CAN MAKE UP FOR THEIR WEDDING NIGHT.

STOP IT HE LOOKS SO DISTRAUGHT SLEEPING ON THE COUCH AND PENELOPE FIDDLING AROUND WITH HER BRACELET AS SHE SAYS SHES GONNA SPARE HIM THE CONFIDES OF A SHARED CARRIAGE ACTUALLY SHUT UO THE ANGST IS TOO MUCH :(

AWW PENELOPE’S LETTERS MADE A COMEBACK. THE FACT THAT HE KEPT ALL OF HER LETTERS WHERE IS MY COLIN BRIDGERTON????

PENELOPE MY QUEEN GETTING TO SEE SOME OF HER MOMS WORST SIDES AND POPPING OFF ON HER. Mother-daughter bitch off! “Oh and from whom?” Well, her family actually. Portia crediting penelope and apologizing for overlooking her, the development is so cute. “We must do better.” So true actually and the fact that it’s coming from portia just shows her development.

Francesca’s wedding was actually so beautiful and her heart to heart with violet beforehand was so cute. Polin sharing a look during francesca’s and john’s wedding and penelope subtly touching him with her shoulder, i’m gonna throw up. STOP THE ANGST.

the bridgerton siblings being chaotic and teasing each other is something so dear to my heart actually.

Penelope’s outfits this episode are all actually so gorgeous, she looks so ethereal in this season in general but especially in this episode. No not her seeing a genuine smile on colin’s face during their wedding party and her smile slowly fading. The angst is angsting.

Aww penelope loves his family so much. The study scene is actually so… “then how am i meant to help you?” “By loving me!” Pop off, pen. Might need to bash his head into a wall a couple times though because our baby boy is very stubborn right now. Like it’s so special to me, her speech is sooo dear to my heart. HANDS, HANDS, HANDS! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Oh? Penelope writing to the queen AND Violet? What is going to happen?

Lmaooo Benedict got one taste of men and he could not stop. I’m actually crying, my favorite pansexual, (i love you but please stop taking screen-time from polin during their own damn season the irony of people complaining polin got too much screen time last season and now during their own season they barely get as much scenes as the previous leads) IM CRYING BENEDICT DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THAT WOMAN LMAOOO.

Aww a benedict and eloise swing scene, so on brand. Real el back not giving a fuck about fitting in anymore because she got pen back. ELOISE IS A LESBIAN I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH AND I WISH BENEDICT SHARED WHAT HE FOUND OUT WITH ELOISE SO THAT SHE WOULD KNOW THAT IT’S OKAY 😭😭😭

Penelope’s ball dress looks so gorgeous. AWW SHE PAID FOR THE BALL 😭😭😭😭 SHE’S SUCH AN AMAZING SISTER DESPITE ALL THE SHIT THEY’VE SAID AND DONE TO HER OVER THE YEARS. Not my poor baby standing on the sidelines again 😭😭😭 Where’s colin when you need him???

Oh, the queen showed up. SHE’S PISSED???? PENELOPE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? AWWW. Penelope revealing herself to the ton, girl boss. Her entire speech is her admitting her flaws and defending herself in the same breath. She’s one of the best, if not, the best written character on the show and it is about time the haters realize that. The fact that she keeps eye contact with El and Colin while defending herself but also assuring them about their own insecurities while doing so 😭😭😭 I’m crying, Colin actually smiled at her, he looks so proud of his wife 😭😭😭 Stfuuuu. Are we getting that make-up? PENELOPE MY QUEEN INTO THE LIGHT INDEED! AWW THE QUEEN ACTUALLY PARDONED HER OH MY GOD.

The ton needs to stop whispering if you have anything to say, say it to her face, The Featheringtons showing support and phillipa demanding that varley releases the bugs to save her sister from embarrassment 😭😭😭

Colin i’m so serious when i say go to your wife and ask her to dance. AWW THE DANBURY-PENELOPE SCENE. I have hopes for a friendship in season 4. She knew all along and kept the secret 🥹🥹🥹 “who loves the Bridgertons more than I” Especially her soulmates colin and eloise 🥺🥺🥺🥺 Aww penelope and her mother are actually so important to me “my girl” OH MY GOD THAT SCENE FROM THE TRAILER WHERE SHE LOOKS SO FONDLY AT SOMEONE AND THEN TURNS TO SEE COLIN WAS WITH PORTIA. SHUT UP THATS SO CUTE.

She looks so worried, please make-up i swear to god. “That i would not object to an annulment if you requested one.” COLIN WE HAVE 14 MINUTES LEFT IF YOU DO NOT SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN AFTER EVERYTHING SHE’S DONE TO SHOW YOU SHE CARES I AM PERSONALLY GONNA BASH YOUR HEAD INTO A WALL REPEATEDLY.

Oh never mind, the shock on his face, like that was never even a thought to him. He was always gonna stay married to her. FINALLY “you are her.” It took him a while to get there but he finally accepted that part of her and it’s so cute. His speech is actually so…he’s such a healthy male character, the only man ever actually, like you will not be able to find a man that is so in touch with their feelings that he can admit he was jealous and that you’re actually a braver, better person than he is. COLIN BRIDGERTON THE MAN THAT YOU ARE🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ this speech is so dear to me.

STFUU THE PARALLEL TO EPISODE ONE

Episode 1: “Goodbye, Mr.Bridgerton”

“Pen, i….”

Episode 8:

“You are a very good man, mr. Bridgerton.”

“Now, will you please do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

STFUUU HE ACTUALLY CALLED HER MRS BRIDGERTON THAT IS A WIN FOR ME. Them dancing together will always have a special place in my heart, especially since everything’s resolved and they’re all giggly.

Oh, Eloise moving to scotland with francesca, oh my god. OH??? Francesca bridgerton, i know what you are and Michaela stirling i did not realize your game. Welcome to the sapphic club, fran.

OH????? Penelope riding colin!!!! Yay! I wish they kept in the longer version of the scene since this was apparently originally part of a montage but i’m so glad they finally got their shit together and consummated their marriage. Penelope loves colin’s chest hair so much.

OOOOH? Masquerade ball. Ben’s season next?

Pen’s and eloise goodbye hug was so long actually, they’re the cutest. Penelope’s little wave to her, my peneloise heart 🥹🥹🥹

“Goodbye.” SHUT UP

Oh my gosh, the epilogue. Polin had the heir so fucking cute. THEIR MARITAL BLISS IN THE EPILOGUE THEY’RE SO SICKENING ACTUALLY. Aww phillipa wants her daughter to be a writer so cute. POLIN WRITER COUPLE AND PENELOPE SUPPORTING HER HUSBAND IN WRITING AND PUBLISHING SO TRUE . NO STOP THE TRANSITION FROM JULIE ANDREWS TO PENELOPE’S VOICE WAS ACTUALLY GENIUS I’M GONNA THROW UP.

ALSO THE SYMBOLISM OF PENELOPE AND COLIN HAVING THEIR FINAL KISS BASKED IN SUNLIGHT IN FRONT OF THE WINDOW WHERE SHE USED TO SPENT HOURS TRYING TO SPY INTO HIS ROOM IM GONNA CHAIN MYSELF TO A TRAIN TRACK ACTUALLY.

Yours truly, Penelope Bridgerton

That’s it, i’m checking myself into a mental hospital now. What the actual fuck.

Wow. Awww guys all i want is playing during the credits that’s so cute 🥰

I actually don’t know what to do with myself for another two years until we learn what these characters are up to again. Like this season was actually so special to me i am dying for more especially more polin since they cut that short for some benedict awakenings and setting up for his season but i am glad for the bits that we did get.

Overall i do not have too much criticism for this season so i give it a solid 9.5/10

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fabulous109 · 1 month ago

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Hey love! Could I please request a Paul x reader where she’s been wanting to get a tattoo but Paul keeps telling her no because he doesn’t want her to ruin her beautiful skin🤫

Ouu this should be good! I know nothing about tattoos, but it's only fair Paul lets his imprint be herself, even if sometimes it makes him uncomfortable.

Thanks for the request! Y’all make me feel special.

Double Standards- Paul x Reader

“What about a butterfly? I bet Paul would find a classic tattoo okay. Maybe his face?” Kim was joking about that last part. Y/N wanted a tattoo, but for some reason, Paul was against it. He usually loved how you wanted to be included in his interests and hobbies. His tattoo was a tribal one, and since you were not technically part of the tribe or a wolf you couldn’t have that one.

“Oh, what about his name or Paul’s Girl?” Emily suggested. “Yeah if she wants to look ridiculous. Wait, what are we talking about?” Jared interrupted the imprints going through a book of sample tattoos that you borrowed from the local shop in Forks. Having a place to get professional tattoos close was a plus. It meant you could sneak in and out if you had to, plus once it is on Paul can’t do anything about it….better to ask for forgiveness than permission right?

“Paul SO isn’t going to go for this Y/N.” Sam of course had to put in his opinion. Both Jared and Sam received looks of disapproval from their imprints. “She can get one if she wants, right Kim?” Emily countered Sam’s statement and continued, “I mean if I wanted one would you stop me? Jared, what about Kim?” The girls looked to both boys waiting for their answer. Jared just shrugged knowing Kim would be more conservative and only do one somewhere hidden. He thought it would be cute to be something only he saw since she never liked showing much skin. As for Sam, his eyes were bugging out at Emily while he searched his brain for a gentle response. “Baby, you know I think you are beautiful, but no, I don’t want you getting one sorry.” Sam was literally saved from the conversation as Embry and Paul walked into the house looking for lunch.

Paul walked over to you presenting a kiss on your forehead and questioning eyes about why suddenly the room was tense. “Seriously what happened in here, you can cut the tension with a knife.”

Well here goes nothing: “Babe I am getting a tattoo so Kim and Emily were helping me choose which one from the samples.” It didn’t take too long for Paul to make his way around to where you were sitting and kneel in front of you. “Let me put it this way- no.” Boom, there it was. You were actually getting quite angry at his control over you. Being an imprint is a beautiful experience, except for this part. The part where he wants to control you.

“So you can get a tattoo, but I can’t right?” You questioned your imprint as he looked into your eyes. “It isn’t about that Y/N. I love you the way you are. You look beautiful, why do you need to change that?” Okay, he was being nicer than you expected, but this time you weren’t being so nice.

“Paul, you always tell me what I can and can’t do. I want one and I’m getting it tomorrow. I already have an appointment. So are you coming or should I just hold Kim’s hand for moral support? Your double standards are not winning this time.” Paul literally just sighed because you had a point. He saw the determination in your eyes and knew he couldn’t stop you.

“Fine, but where and what tattoo? Also, I am going to make sure it is done correctly. You can get sick if this shop has idiots working there. I don’t want anyone messing with my girl.” At this declaration, you were shocked that Paul gave in so easy…

You leaned in to plunder his face with light kisses and latched onto him for hugs that would squeeze a normal person to death. “Babe I get it, you don’t have to try to take my oxygen! If you let me up we can research it together as long as you put it somewhere it can be covered for when we get married and stuff.” Paul was struggling to get up off the floor from the kneeling position. During this Emily looked to Sam with a look that not only said he would be finishing their discussion later, and for once, he needed to take note of Paul’s attitude on this.

The words your imprint said suddenly hit you, “Wait Paul..wedding?” With a smirk, he said, “Well, you were planning on staying with me forever right? Let’s get matching tattoos that only we know what it means.”

Paul really was whipped but could be sweet when it came to his girl.

#paul lahote #twilight

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year ago

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Purpose

Fandom: The Last of Us

Word count: 12.7k

Rating: PG13 for violence (Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, mention of sexual harassment, minor character deaths, major character death, death of a child, grief, blood and gore)

Summary: “I think if he (Joel) could do anything or be anything, he would be a dad, raising his daughter. Whether it’s Sarah or— he can’t quite get there yet to say it’s Ellie but that's what he was put on this Earth to do. That’s why he’s been wandering around a little like a zombie himself for 20 years. He’s trying to find his purpose because it was taken from him.” -Craig Mazin

A/N: I’ve been writing bits and pieces of this for moooonths! Since the last episode aired. So I really really hope you guys like it. I love all the Joel & Ellie fics out there but there’s a hole in my heart where the Joel & Sarah fics should be. So here you go, a one shot of Joel Miller and his purpose in life, how he earned it and how he lost it.

20th July 1989

What do you want to be when you grow up?

It was a question that adults asked way too many times. Way too casually. It was as though they had forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager with a whole world of possibilities, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be everything from an astronaut to an actor. They never accepted the answer they got from the kids. At least that was Joel’s experience. They always laughed when he said he wanted to be a singer. That’s not a real job, they’d say. So, he made up something that he didn’t even want to do.

Accountant. That’s what he told people he’d become. He didn’t even know what that job entailed. He just blurted it out, possibly because his new classmate’s dad was an accountant and that was the first thing that came to his mind. And because it was a real job unlike singer.

That also didn’t quite cut it for adults. You need to be good at math for that. They were right. He was no good at it. As he sat on the hospital chair, too afraid to move or breathe, he wished he’d been better at math. Maybe that would’ve gotten him a better job than building. He’d be in an office and make enough money for this.

The baby stirred in his arms and let out a low whine and his heart almost fucking stopped. She was so little, so fucking fragile. One wrong move and she could wake up. His mother told him to put her back in the crib, so did the mother of the girl who was fast asleep on the hospital bed. His mother-in-law. But he couldn’t. He was afraid that once he put her down, she’d disappear. She would. Both their parents were in contact with some adoption people and they were going through a list of names of respectable men and women with respectable jobs and good loving homes. There were some accountants on the list. They were probably good at math and didn’t have to get yelled at everyday for buying the wrong valves and choosing the wrong brand of grout. The prospective fathers were all at least a decade older than he was.

But he couldn’t put her down.

So he stayed awake on the chair throughout the night, his back hurting just a little but his heart full.

Wanting to be a singer was just a childish fantasy. Accounting was just something he made up to look serious in the eyes of grown ups. There were other ideas too— soccer player, fireman, cop. None of them felt right.

And what was it they always said about jobs? Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life? He’d never loved anything. Until now. Never found a purpose. Until now.

He cradled her close to his chest, supporting her tiny soft head with his hand. Fuck, her head was so little, so soft. His large hands already marked up by construction jobs felt unworthy of touching such pureness.

Sarah.

He can’t give her away. Not after the name popped into his head. He didn’t know why, couldn’t explain it to anyone who asked. But she was Sarah.

Sarah Miller, he thought when he realized he had a purpose for the first time in his life.

They told him he can’t do it, that he shouldn’t. They told him he didn’t know the first thing about babies. The girl he got pregnant— his wife—is hurt, said he can’t go back on their promise to give the baby up for adoption so that she can go back to school to be a lawyer. She said it will ruin her life and he had to agree. It will. The innocent little thing that continued sleeping on his lap did kind of ruin her life. She had to take a break fro, school, put up with morning sickness and bloating and back pain and fucking everything because of the baby. Raising her for 18 years? That would be the nail on the coffin of her dreams.

But he wasn’t the dreaming kind.

“I ain’t askin’. I know it’s not fair to ya. You already done everythin’, but…” I can’t imagine a life without Sarah. He had known her for less than 10 hours and life already seemed meaningless without her in it. “I’ll do it myself, okay? You don’t gotta do anything. You never have to visit. I just… I can’t give her up, darlin’. I promise I won’t rope you into this. I’ll fuckin’ disappear, never call you or write to you.”

“Joel…”

His mother thought she was a cruel girl to want to leave her baby behind when he, the father, stepped up to provide. But he had no feelings of anger towards her. They made a promise to each other. He was the one who broke it, not her. He would break all his promises to everyone in his life, no matter what, just to be his little girl’s dad.

“We’re too young.”

He nodded. He knew that. He’d been an adult for a grand total of four years and most of it, he’d spent drinking and working on construction. No transferable skills there. He was still kind of a kid and knew fuck all about raising a whole new person. The prospect was terrifying. It was even more terrifying to lose her, though. It felt like if he was taken away from his baby girl, he would fucking die.

“It’ll be harder to do anything. Parties, work, college, sleep. Everything will be harder.”

“Yeah,” he croaked, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He was only now old enough to legally get very drunk and illegally continue smoking joints in the storage shed with his friends. They had only recently bought themselves a proper plate and silverware. Eating out of the pot used to be more than enough before.

He’d just started taking care of himself. Just started doing his laundry in the local laundromat instead of driving his dirty clothes all the way to his parents’ for his mom to wash and fold up for him. He’d just started separating his whites from his coloured clothes.

It felt like his heart could fucking leap out of his chest when he wrote it down.

Name: Sarah Miller

Father’s name: Joel Miller

When I grow up, I want to be a father. This would not have been an acceptable answer to the adults. They liked hearing that from little girls, but not from boys. Adults thought boys should have more ambition than that. Fuck, he was an adult. Fuck. Fucking hell.

She asked for a divorce, reluctant and scared. He could tell she still loved him. It may have been their parents’ idea for them to marry, but they did have a good 7 months of marriage. They were friends, kind of. Despite the young parenthood and the anger about damaged condoms and who was responsible for getting drunk enough to have sex using a broken condom, they didn’t fight much. In another world, they would have been a good couple. Not this one. Losing her hurt, but he had to choose between her and his baby.

He signed the papers.

She visited the baby a few times, but never held her. Her older sister dropped off breast milk from her a few times and he was so grateful. He heard that it was very important for the baby’s health. He gave her formula, but this was more important according to the doctor. She said the mother’s milk had some stuff in it that the baby really needed. He didn’t know what the hell it was, he tried his best to remember the complicated words but they didn’t stick. He was just happy that Sarah could be healthy.

3rd August 1989

Bullshit. What a load of bullshit.

Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life? He wanted to backhand whoever said that.

“I got you baby, Daddy’s got you,” he said, rubbing her back as she cried into his chest. “Here’s your bottle. Just a few seconds and you’ll have your milk, okay?”

Tommy looked at him like he was a space alien. Yeah it was fucking weird, alright. He was in his shorts in the kitchen, wearing a smelly t-shirt and talking to his baby who didn’t know how to reply. But what did Tommy know? He didn’t have to be the one with no human company other than a little baby who didn’t know shit about shit.

He loved Sarah. He never knew what love was until Sarah. He thought he loved his parents, he might love Tommy just a little even though he was fucking annoying and got into trouble all the time. He fell in love a few times before Sarah’s mom and he was in love with Sarah’s mom. But maybe he didn’t love them. He didn’t love any of them. They should either invent a new word for whatever he felt for Sarah or a new, less stronger word for what he felt for every other person.

He really truly loved her. But that still didn’t make him feel like he wasn’t working. This was the most work he had ever done in his life. Even the sleepless week he spent building that shop, fuelled by energy drinks and coffee to afford baby clothes and medicines when his then wife was 8 months pregnant didn’t come close.

Sarah woke up crying all the goddamn time.

He knew babies always cried. They couldn’t talk or write or do anything else to communicate. So they cried. But it always felt like a personal failure when she did. Like he was the bad dad everyone expected a 22 year old single father to be.

“She always do that?” Tommy asked when Sarah finally quietened down as she sucked on the bottle he held to her mouth.

“Pretty much. She can’t talk or nothin’, so…”

Tommy nodded and then yawned. God, this boy. Joel had a lot to worry about now and everything he worried about involved Sarah. But he couldn’t not worry about his baby brother. Before he was a father, he was Tommy’s big brother and he will never stop worrying about him. He always got himself into trouble trying to do something good, something noble. The latest one was talkin’ ‘bout enlisting in the fuckin’ army.

He seemed to really really want to be in the army, but that didn’t say much. Tommy really really wanted to do fucking everything. While Joel was the brother with no strong ambitions other than Sarah, Tommy was the brother with too many ambitions. He fought off kids bigger than him if they bullied his classmates, spoke up against teachers who said somethin’ racist, punched a grown man for looking at his female friend wrong. And it was always on Joel to rescue him.

He would run off to a bunch of wars to protect his stupid little brother again. But for the first time he didn’t want to. He had a purpose now. His baby brother needed saving all the time, but his baby needed him for everything.

Tommy would have to handle himself. No big brother to shield him from bullets.

“Don’t fuck up, alright? Ma don’t need that now. I’m already fuckin’ up and she don’t need you to fuck up too.”

“You’re not fuckin’ up, Joel. Ma loves Sarah,” Tommy says, his voice soft as he gently taps Sarah’s cheek with his finger. She looks up at her Uncle Tommy and he swears she’s a little annoyed at him for disturbing her third dinner time. There was no way he was imagining that. He didn’t know if babies were smart enough to be annoyed, but Sarah was. She was a smart one. Tommy had to see that too.

“Yeah yeah, sorry,” Tommy laughed as he apologized to her. He could see it, Tommy also loved Sarah. He was an Uncle and shit. His baby brother, an Uncle. Wild.

Of course Ma loved Sarah. Everyone loved Sarah. He didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at his baby girl and not fall in love immediately.

“I’m serious, Tommy. Don’t fu—” Fuck! No swearing. Ma warned that if he kept swearing around the baby, her first word might be fuck or shit or goddamn it. “Don’t mess up, okay?” He quickly corrected himself.

“Ma loves Sarah, but that don’t make me any less of a failure. I’m a twenty one year old divorced single father with no chances to go to college and no prospects other than construction. You gotta be better than that.”

He nodded, looking stern and a little too grown up for his age. He was too grown up to be an uncle, too grown to be shipped off God knows where to shoot at other kids but it was what it was. “Yeah…”

After a couple minutes of silence, Tommy spoke up again. “At least she won’t bug me for grandkids, right? You already gave her one.”

“Yeah, the perfect one. Gonna be difficult for your future kid to meet Ma’s high expectations.” He said, smirking. He was never competitive. Never did anything just to be better than someone else at it. The age gap between him and Tommy made him more of of protective older brother than a competitive one. But he was pitting Tommy’s non-existent kid against his baby and it didn’t even feel wrong.

“Fuck you, dude,” he laughed.

“No swearing ‘round her. Don’t want her first word to be that.”

Tommy burst out laughing. “It’ll be funny, though. Just imagine that in a little baby voice.”

He chuckled and conceded, “Yeah, it’ll be funny. But I’m serious. No swearing.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

25th December 1989

“Look at that! Ain’t it pretty?” He cooed, exaggerating the beauty of the scene in front of him. Her eyes were brighter than any Christmas light on the tree in the living room. They were brighter than the sun and the moon and all the stars in the night sky he pointed out to her.

She was wrapped up in several layers of clothes. For a baby, she had too many clothes and it was a pain in the ass to wash and fold. But she looked so adorable in all those layers. It was like she was a soft, formless ball.

He laughed as she moved her arms around and bounced on the couch. She was propped up by two pillows and he put a couple more on the floor just in case. He wouldn’t let her fall, but just in case. She pointed at the bauble he plucked off the Christmas tree, her baby bird-like mouth forming into a little O shape. She laughed and reached her arms out for it. He let her touch it. How could he not when she looked at it like it was the most wonderful thing in the universe.

She looked at everything like it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

He picked her up from her fortress of pillows and held her on his waist, carrying her closer to the tree. Carefully, he placed her higher on top of him, her legs on his shoulders and her hands gripping his hair for dear life. The mirror above the fireplace framed them like a photograph, their first Christmas together. One hand still on his hair, she reached out for a bauble, a present from an aunt for his shotgun wedding.

It should make him sad, but he found himself…happy. Sure, life would be easier if he had Pam to share the duties of parenthood. Sure it was shit to be a divorcee at the age of twenty two. But he had Sarah at the end of the marriage and that was worth everything.

While he was preoccupied with the meaning behind the ornament, his daughter was completely unconcerned with events that occurred before her birth. She inspected the ornament with a kind of gentleness he hadn’t seen in many babies— he remembered Tommy to be the kind to break things with his enthusiasm and cry over the destruction he’d wreaked. Sarah tapped on it gently with her hand and squealed with delight.

“It’s cool, huh?” He said, making conversation with her. She hummed in response and moved to an unusual ornament shaped like a butterfly, her eyes wide with curiosity and her fingers cautiously inspecting the antlers. Father and child stood in front of the Christmas tree all night long, inspecting every single ornament and making conversation in the language only they knew to speak.

If she loved the tree so much, he decided, he’d keep it in the living room in the fucking summer. Who said you couldn’t have a Christmas tree in June? He fucking loved being her dad.

18th January 1990

He fucking hated being a dad.

He would never let her know. God, he would never ever tell her that.

“Daddy’s got you, daddy’s got you. Everything is fine, baby girl.”

It was like she didn’t even hear him. She kept crying those heartbreaking, soul-crushing cries. He gave her the medicines that the doctor told him to buy. He did fucking everything but she still wouldn’t stop crying. He had to be doing something wrong. He told Ma that, but she said that was how babies were and he just had to take care of her, hold her close and wait for her temperature to go down.

But what until then?

“Ma! Ma, she won’t stop crying.”

“Did you give her the medicines?” His mother’s drowsy voice came through the phone. He shouldn’t be disturbing her after the day she had, but he couldn’t be bothered about her comfort. His baby was crying, goddamn it!

“Yeah, I did. Still won’t stop,” he said, his voice breaking and he bounced the baby, hoping that would soothe her.

“Did you check her temperature?”

“Yeah. Hundred and two.”

“It’s gone down then. She’s getting better.”

“Why’s she still cryin’ then?”

He was a grown man, a father, but god he felt like a fuckin’ kid again. He wanted his Ma. He wanted her to drive all the way to his place and tell him what to do to fix her, make her pain go away.

“That’s how it is, Joel. This is normal. I’ll be there in the morning when your old man can drive me, okay? She’ll get better, kid. Don’t worry too much.”

Ma was right, she did get better. But it was the worst night of his life and he would put her in a medically sealed safe room for the rest of her life just to never have to relive it.

She got sick again, of course. She was a kid and as he learned, kids were germ magnets. It was intolerable and it made him hate being a father. That made him feel guilty. It was stupid, he knew that. What could he even do? Punch germs in the face? Throw hands with the daycare mom who didn’t vaccinate her kid who ended up coughing on his baby girl?

He hated what being a father made him think and do. He felt unhinged, irrational. But it never felt wrong. And he never hated being her father. This was his purpose and he didn’t mind being a fuckin’ psycho who thought of fighting the baby who gave his baby a fever.

28th April 1991

“Can I have one, please?”

Joel brought the hammer down on the nail, looking up every now and then for glimpses of his daughter sitting on her uncle’s lap.

She looked at Tommy with her perfect angel eyes, hand messy and gripped around a disgusting soggy cookie she’d soaked with her saliva. She shook her head at Tommy before putting the cookie back in her mouth.

“Please? Uncle Tommy is hungry. And your dad won’t feed me.” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, but his baby girl didn’t budge. She hugged the packet of cookies close to her chest like Tommy was gonna snatch it from her and it made both of them laugh. He dropped his hammer on the floor and walked up to them.

He got on his knees next to Tommy’s chair and looked at her. “Please can I have one? Daddy’s hungry.”

She took her cookie out of her mouth and stretched her hand out to him. He leaned in, no hesitation and took the entire soggy piece in his mouth.

“Duuuude! Seriously? I bought those cookies and you’ll share it with your daddy but not with me? What a pair of scammers.”

Joel sent a smug smile his way before returning back to work. Babies were pretty selfish and Sarah was no exception, but he was an exception and that made him feel like the most special man in Texas.

“Miller,” a stern voice interrupted his family. He didn’t know whether it was directed towards him or towards Tommy, but the both of them apologized and left Sarah to her own devices before returning to work.

“Clients are such meanies, aren’t they?” He whispers to Sarah when the client is out of sight.

“Meanie!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and lifting the packet of cookies with her. He laughed. That was a new word. She was a smart one.

They work all night, both of them. Sarah sleeps in the baby seat he bought for his truck. The daycare moms suggested it and he was so glad he bought one. It was damn expensive but ‘twas helpful for when they’re both working and Ma couldn’t take Sarah.

16th October 1992

Kids asked a lot of questions. Sarah did too.

Why is the sky blue? Why are some trees tall but other trees short? Why are soap suds all white no matter the color of the soap? What is a library? Why does Grandma have grey hair? Why does Uncle Tommy have long hair? What is a housing loan? What is concrete? Why is concrete gray? Why won’t you let me touch concrete?

He didn’t have a problem with the non-stop questions like other parents did. It was better for her to channel her curiosity into questions than get into trouble trying to find answers herself. His problem was that he wasn’t smart enough to answer ‘em.

He eventually did. Or hoped that she’d forget that he said he’ll ask someone and get back to her with the answer. But this wasn’t something he could ask someone else. It wasn’t something he could hope she’d forget. If she forgot now, she’d ask again later at some point in her life.

“What’s my mommy’s name?”

“Her name was Pamela.”

Was, he said. Like she was fucking dead. It had been years since he’d said that name. What a strange turn life took. Once upon a time, his whole world revolved around Pam and now he’d half forgotten what she looked like.

“Where is she?”

Last he heard, somewhere in New York. She became a lawyer. Good for her.

“I don’t know, baby,” he lied. What was the point of telling her where her mother was? She didn’t even know where New York was. She hadn’t even thought to ask about her mother in all these years. Well, she couldn’t even speak for a good portion of it but still…

“All the other kids have a mommy. Why don’t I have one?” Was he not enough? A lot of people reminded him that kids needed a mother more than they needed a father. That little girls needed a mother. That he wouldn’t know what the hell to do when she wanted cookies for the school bake sale or wanted a cute braid or got her period. He told all of them to go fuck themselves. Politely.

Her tiny hands held the stuffed animal he spent too much time and money on to win at the fair. Her innocent little eyes begged him for answers, reminding him where she got ‘em from. They looked like when Pam told him she was pregnant, scared and confused and begging him to do something, help somehow.

He might get a heart attack in his mid twenties.

“It’ll be harder to do anything. Parties, work, college, sleep. Everything will be harder.”

He didn’t know it would be like this. He knew the question would come up but he wasn’t prepared.

“I…”

She was patient. He picked her up from her chair and held her to his chest, wishing she’d go back to just babbling and looking cute.

“Most babies have two parents. A mommy and a daddy. Do you know why?”

She shook her head and kept her attention on his every word.

“Because they’re all so naughty.”

That got a laugh out of her. An easy smile found itself on his lips. It was hard to not smile when he saw her smile.

“Jason has a mommy and daddy,” he said, referring to the boy she had a few play dates with. “He gets in a lot of trouble so he needs to parents to take care of him. But you’re such a good kid, the best kid in the world and God knows that. So he just gave you one parent. Because Daddy is enough to take care of you.”

He was enough. He was enough to take care of her. He could pay for her daycare and clothes and health and everything. He read her bedtime stories and took her to work and kept her away from the tools.

He was enough.

“Is she taking care of another kid then? Is that why she’s not here?”

Jesus Christ, this girl.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Oh. Can we go to the park?”

And just like that, she was over it. Thank fucking God.

He held her curls and gave her a kiss on her head. She was so special, she was so perfect. She deserved everything, deserved the whole universe, deserved a mom. He would spend his whole life and more giving her whatever she needed.

1st September 1993

“Here’s some snacks for you. I’ll leave it in your bag. Don’t forget to have it, okay?”

She nodded, munching on her cereal as he packed her backpack for her first day of school. He was nervous, but she looked completely fine. So did Tommy on his first day of school, but he ended up throwing a tantrum at the school gates and refused to let go of their parents. Joel had to promise him a full bar of candy to get him to finally walk into school.

Just so it was not too jarring for her, he made it a point to drive past her school every now and then. As they passed by, he explained to her that she would be going there everyday very soon and make a lot of tiny friends.

Construction work meant that schedules were all over the place. Sarah, having had no independent life of her own so far, was forced to stick to his messy days, waking up and sleeping at different times. Joel changed that to prepare her for waking up early to go to school.

With her bag packed with her pencil case, water bottle, snacks, color pencils and the books and notebook her school asked her to bring, it was time to move on to the next task.

“Daddy, I want the purple bows today. The new ones Nana bought.”

“I know, baby girl. I got them here already,” he said, pulling out the bright purple hair accessories from his pocket where he’d also shoved her hair brush, handkerchief and socks. He pulled her hair together in two pigtails, proud of himself for how far he’d come in doing her hair from a confused man asking his very few female friends for help to a natural dad who did this every morning.

He clipped a bow on each side, the little purple things sitting at the base of her soft rounded hair style. She climbed up the table without notice and checked herself out on the mirror nearby, grinning as she touched her hair.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, you’re welcome baby girl,” he cooed, pulling her close and placing kisses on her cheeks and forehead. He couldn’t believe she was ready for school already. It felt like she was born just yesterday. Each day was long and difficult, but together they’d all passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know if she was prepared for such a big step, to be in school everyday for a couple hours without him.

“Tickles,” she giggled as his mustache scratched her cheeks. He kissed her again, making her fill the living room once again with her squeals and laughter.

“I want the orange shoes today,” she said, placing her foot on his chest.

“Sure? You picked the black socks with the green aliens. Shouldn’t you wear black shoes?”

“You don’t know fashion, daddy. You wear only boring tops without cartoon characters. And you don’t even have Barbie clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Orange shoes it is then,” he said, slipping the shoes she demanded on her feet. At least they were Velcro and she could remove them and put them back on easily without help.

Soon, Tommy had arrived at their door and like the menace he was, brought some candies.

“Tommy,” he spoke in a stern tone.

“Come on, Joel! It’s a big day. Our baby girl is all grown up and going to school!”

“I’m a big girl!” She exclaimed, pumping her little fists in the air like she’d won a medal.

“Yeah, very big,” Tommy laughed, putting the candies in her school backpack. “Now, be nice and share some candy with your classmates. That’s the quickest way to make friends.”

She listened to his advice intently and Joel wondered if she’d take a pen and notepad out to take his advice down if only she knew how to string alphabets together to make words.

While he usually sat in the front and let Sarah sit in the back of the truck, he chose to sit in the back this time, offering her the comfort and confidence she needed to take this big leap.

“…be a good girl and listen to your teacher. And don’t use any rude words, okay? Stuff you hear at daddy’s work, it’s only for grown ups. You understand?”

She nodded, beady eyes focused on the glittery designs of her backpack rather than his words. As much as he tried to speak properly around her, he couldn’t stop her from learning the crass words spoken by the people he worked with at the construction sites. And because daycare was expensive and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with strangers for such a big part of the day, she had to be at his workplaces, heart no those words.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just school and it’ll be fun. You’ll get to read new stories and make new friends. It can be scary in the beginning but it will be so much fun,” he continued on, caressing her back as he held her close.

“What do you do if you’re scared or if you want daddy?”

“I’ll tell my teacher you’re waiting outside and I want to go to you,” she repeated the words he’d been drilling into her head for months. He had taken the entire week off work to wait for Sarah outside school. Just in case she really needed him before the end of the school day. God forbid there be an injury or something.

“You’ve seen your classroom before, remember? With the colorful stickers on the walls?” She nodded, walking next to him as she looked around at the other kids and parents on the campus for their first day. He averted her eyes from the crying kids, afraid that seeing them might make her cry too.

Joel dreaded the waterworks, dreaded how her sparkling eyes would brim with tears and her little lips would pout before fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She was too precious for that and her tears always made him want to tear up anything and anyone who caused it. It didn’t matter that she also cried for the silliest reasons and cried when she threw tantrums. They never stopped having that heartstrings-pulling effect they had when she came crying and screaming into the world. Those cries that convinced him that he shouldn’t give her up, that he couldn’t trust anyone else on the planet to comfort her the way he could.

When they reached her classroom and met Mrs. Moore, he handed her backpack over to her. Kneeling in front of her, he gave her a few kisses on her cheeks. “Be good, okay? Daddy’s right outside and I’ll pick you up when school is over. Yeah?”

“Okay, daddy!” She said cheerfully. He turned his cheek to her for a kiss, but she didn’t notice, walking off in the other direction with her backpack. She dipped her bag on the table before introducing herself to another kid with her standard script for meeting others— her name, his name, her favorite cartoon characters and a handshake while she said it was nice to meet them.

“Dang, she couldn’t wait to ditch ya,” remarked Tommy as he watched Sarah socialize and show the kids the cartoon characters on her backpack.

Joel’s vision clouded with tears as he sat on his knees in the middle of the classroom. His lips trembled and his chest clenched at being left just like that by her. She never left him. Even when she was with her grandparents, she came running to their porch when she heard him and Tommy pull up in the drive.

Tommy dragged him away from the classroom when it was time for parents to leave. While he left, Joel’s heart stayed right there in the classroom.

“Goddamn,” he muttered as he wiped his tears off with the sleeves of his shirt. To think he was worried about her crying… Here he was, crying like a child while his actual child faced her first day of school with a big smile on her face.

“Can’t believe she’s in school already,” Tommy said and he nodded, not confident that he could speak without sobbing.

How was he supposed to do this everyday? Just leave her in a building with complete strangers and be confident that when he went back, she would be there, safe and happy. Other kids could bully her, her teacher might be rude to her, she might be hungry even after eating the snacks he packed her. How was he supposed to know how she was doing in all these hours she’d spend in a place with none of the friends and family she knew?

It was like taking your heart out your chest, putting a backpack on it and sending it away to fend for itself while praying that nothing bad would happen to it.

30th November 1994

Joel Miller would beat up anyone who made his baby girl cry. He didn’t care who it was. This time though, he had no one to blame but himself. She wouldn’t let him near her. She was crying, but she was also incredibly angry. Where did she even get anger from? He couldn’t believe that such a tiny little girl could have so much anger in her.

“I’m leaving the house and I’m never ever coming back!” She squeaked into the phone between sobs.

He was disappointed in himself. She was being especially difficult, yes. He had to drop her off at daycare and run to work, but she wouldn’t stop running around in the backyard in her pajamas. He’d had enough and yelled.

So here she was with her pink backpack full of her things that she packed herself— mismatched clothes, hairbrush, hair wrap, hair tie, teddy bear. She didn’t pack any underwear. She was stood on the couch to reach the landline phone, holding the receiver to her ear and asking, no demanding, that Uncle Tommy pick her up.

“Who made my baby girl cry? I’m gonna kick their butts,” Tommy declares as he walks in, popsicle in hand. He was gonna kick Tommy’s ass. She wasn’t supposed to have that shit. It was unhealthy. But apparently it wasn’t up to him anymore. It was Sarah and her Uncle Tommy’s world and he was just living in it.

“I’ll get him, okay baby?” He reassured her gently and Sarah nods before hugging Tommy.

Fucking drama queens, the both of them.

“Go wait in the truck and have this popsicle, okay? I’ll beat your dad up.”

She grinned— what the fuck. She grinned, took the stupid popsicle and ran off to the truck which neither of them asked to borrow. Fucking thieves.

Tommy burst out laughing as soon as she left.

“If you wanna be cool Uncle Tommy beatin’ her dad up, the least you can do it babysit her until she stops hatin’ me.”

“She doesn’t hate you!”

“You said you were going to beat me up and she fuckin smiled like you promised her a pony. Take her for the weekend,” he said, handing him the bag that he packed for her. And this one had her underwear, matching set of clothes, her favorite blanket and the story book she was currently reading.

He loved her but goddamn it, he needed a break. The teenage years were going to be hell.

26 September 1996

His hands are cover in glitter. And they’re also sticky for some reason. Something happened here. He didn’t know what, but he would find out. There’s a pair of scissors on the floor. He didn’t put them there and the only other person in the house was told very clearly to not touch them.

Rules were more like suggestions in this household.

“Sarah!” He calls out, walking around the house looking for her. Where the hell was this kid on a school day? It usually took waking her up a million times, took begging to get her to make her bed and some threats to get her outside her bedroom.

He almost yelped when a something, roughly the weight of one Sarah Miller, landed on his back and began giggling.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!!!!” She screamed into his ear. His ears rang from the sound and his heart beat faster, but his heart also grew warmer.

He pulled her to his front and she wasted no time giving him wet kisses on his cheeks. “Thank you, baby girl,” he said, laughing from her enthusiasm. She had never remembered his birthday before, not that he expected her to. She barely remembered her own and made him count down to it from 3 months before the day. So it was a surprise that she remembered.

“I made you a gift,” she said, showing off the gaps between her teeth as she smiled.

“Whaaaat? A gift? For me?”

She nodded and wriggled out of his grip before running off. Her footsteps grew distant and then closer until she emerged with what he could only hope used to be paper. It was a sparkling red sheet. Under all the glitter, there had to be some paper left. There was paper and on it were the words ‘Happy birthday daddy’ written colorfully in crayons. He opened the card to find a drawing of him— beard, power tools, truck and all. It was labeled ‘daddy’.

On the right was a message from her, in her writing that started big and became smaller with each alphabet.

‘Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you.’

“Do you like it?” She asked, wide eyes looking at him expectantly.

“I love it! It’s perfect, baby,” he praised, picking her up off the ground and smothering her with kisses. She was the sweetest, most precious thing in the world. His Ma gave him a new shirt and Tommy bought him a bottle of good whiskey, but they paled in comparison to the card that he tucked away safely in the file with all their important documents, glitter be damned. The card collection grew over the years.

2nd February 1997

“You’ll like her, I promise!”

“Where have I heard that before?” Joel snorted, getting back under the truck to look for whatever the hell had gone wrong underneath for it to not start. They did take a bus to the construction site that morning, but they couldn’t do that again. The buses were unreliable and the walk to the bus stop took up half an hour. Sarah was already annoyed at him for not coming home on time. Last thing he wanted was to leave home earlier and come back later.

“Okay, that was one time! And she was a friend of a friend of a friend. I’ve met Judy and she’s definitely your type.”

“Sure,” he grunted, extending his hand out to get the tool he needed from Tommy.

“Curly hair, kind of tall. She’s clever. A math teacher, actually. Out of your league in that department so if you could pull her, it would be a miracle.”

“You settin’ me up for failure then.”

“Listen, she’s new to the city and she’s open to meeting people. It’s not gone be a date, Joel. Just drinks with her, a couple of her friends, my roommate and his sisters. You need a break.”

He hated to admit it even to himself, but Tommy was right. Not about dating, but about needing a break. He had been working a lot more recently. The contracting business was still in its infancy and needed a lot of his time and attention to just stay afloat. He didn’t have enough capital to invest in more monpower, so he had to take every call and make every decision and do every task he didn’t have enough guys for.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, wiping his face with the greasy cloth, getting more grease on himself than off.

“I’ll ask Ma to take Sarah. You know she’s dying to see that kid,” Tommy offered. He knew that it was meant to get him to feel better, less guilty about getting rid of Sarah for the night to get drunk. But it only made him feel worse about shirking his responsibilities to go get drunk and try to sleep with someone. The last time he did that, he became a father.

But he does it anyway because he told Tommy he would. He goes on a couple of dates with the girl and it feels nice to be around someone who is interested in him for himself, not for what he did for them or because they were stuck with him.

It doesn’t last long. Sarah and work always take priority over everything else in his life and she understandably doesn’t like being his last priority. He never tries again.

16th June 1998

“Sarah!” He called for the fourth time, again with no response. He plated the food for her, grabbed his own plate and walked upstairs to her room.

“Been calling out your name for ten minutes now, baby girl.”

She looked up at him, a weary smile on her lips. “Sorry. I was just finishing up my assignment. Didn’t hear you.”

He put the plate on the table in front of her and ruffled her hair, making her pout. “‘S nice to focus on school, but you need to keep your ears alert,” he said, sitting back down on her bed with his plate.

One glance at her books told him she was doing her math homework. Geometry, to be precise. At least it was something he knew this time. Last week, she was writing her social science essay and went on about the different parts of the United Nations or some shit. He only remembered a bunch of abbreviations and not what they stood for. She could make something up like UNCPS, call it United Nations Child Protective Services and he’d believe it. Wait, was that what UNICEF was?

Math was the only thing she learned in school that he still understood, that made him feel like a smart dad capable of helping his kid out with her homework. Not that she needed any help. She’d taken after Pam in the brains department. Thank god.

Nevertheless he checked her answers. He didn’t want to be completely useless.

She’d done well. There were one or two mistakes she’d made, repetitions of the kinds of mistakes she’d made before in long division. Just careless ones that she corrected easily when he pointed them out to her. Nothing he had to teach her.

“Oh, before I forget…” she said, pulling a plastic file out of her purple backpack. “I need your signature on this thing. It’s the permission slip for a talk from a retired army officer.”

He rifled through the pens in her pen stand, taking too long to find one that wasn’t purple, glittery, or purple and glittery. “Military? Why they teachin’ you that?” He asked, wary about his kid learning anything about wars. It’d gotten Tommy a little too excited and before they knew it, he was off getting shot at somewhere in the gulf. The dangers of that were lower with a daughter than with a son, but he was still wary. Gender equality better not creep its way into jobs that could get his kid killed.

“Yeah, you ain’t going to this thing. Take the day off.”

“No way, we might have a social science pop up quiz on Wednesday and I’m not going to miss it.”

“Aren’t pop up quizzes supposed to…I don’t know, pop up? Like surprise,” he said, earning an eye-roll from her. Wasn’t even a teenager yet and she was rollin’ her lil eyes at her dad. He’d lucked out in the baby lottery, got himself a smart, mostly well-behaved one. But it still confused a man to have the little thing that used to depend on you for everything from food to wiping her butt now rolling her eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. I can’t just skip classes. I’m sure this,” she said, waving the piece of paper at him. “—is just formality. And it’s just going to be some boring talk from some old guy. If you don’t sign it, they’ll still make me go and then my principal will call you up to my office and ask you why you didn’t sign the slip. Merel’s older brother didn’t get his signed and the principal asked his dad if he was a communist.”

“The worst that could happen is this old man calling me a communist? You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Uncle Tommy said that communists are evil,” she said, her eyes widening for effect.

“Your uncle also says that two plus two is five and that ice cream is good for your health.”

“Because it’s milk and milk has calcium!”

“Sure it is. And it’s a shitload of sugar.”

“But if I’m having sugar, isn’t it better to have it with milk? That way I’m also having something healthy,” she asked, showing off her missing teeth as she grinned.

“Or you can just drink milk.”

“Milk tastes like sh— garbage,” she quickly corrected herself. His little girl knew bad words. That shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it was considering how much he and Tommy cursed around her. But it was…disturbing. It was evidence she was growing up, using these words around her little friends and hiding that from him. He used to know her better, be able to read her from the smallest facial expressions. He used to be able to anticipate her needs, predict her behavior, but it was getting harder nowadays.

“And you know what garbage tastes like because…?”

“I grew up eating stuff you cook, that’s how.”

“Walked right into that one.”

“Yeah you did,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He chuckled at her silly behavior, pinching her nose between his thumb and index finger before letting go. Maybe she wasn’t growing up after all.

“Whatever garbage I fed ya, it’s kept you strong enough to talk crap ‘bout it.”

He thought back on the days of fighting out how to cook. Before Sarah, he’d been surviving on takeout. Having to clothe and feed an entirely new human being left little money in his wallet to spend on food. So he learned to cook. For a little thing, she’d made big changes in his life— made him a father and a man. He remembered waking up at odd hours when she so much as stirred in her crib that he kept beside his bed. He remembered how his heart would ache with her little whines that turned into cries of hunger. How he cursed her mother who was meant to be feeding her as he fixed her a bottle—a cheap substitute for her mother’s milk.

Nine years.

Goddamn.

It was hard to believe it’d been that long since she entered his world and changed everything about it. Even when the evidence sat right before him, doing her homework and doodling on her desk. Her hand, while bigger, still held her pencil the same way it did when he taught her to write. Now it wrote faster, wrote long words beyond his understanding in pretty cursive handwriting.

He waited patiently as she ate the boxed mac ‘n cheese, ashamed that he couldn’t feed her anything healthier. It’d been a long day and he didn’t have the time or energy to make something better. But she ate it up happily, not complaining even once. It induced both guilt and satisfaction, the former from the lack of nutrients in the food and the latter because he still made his little girl happy.

He covered his mouth as a yawn took over, making her laugh. “You yawn so funny.”

“I do?” He asked before faking a yawn, making silly sounds as he did. She giggled and yawned back, producing her own silly sounds. It had quickly turned into a competition, leaving father and child making the silliest sounds until the latter crumpled on him, breathless from her laughter.

“Alright. Time to sleep, okay? And remember, Grandpa is picking you up from school tomorrow. So don’t walk home by yourself.”

“Alright dad,” she said, settling under her purple blanket. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning her bedside lamp off.

Dad.

Not daddy, but dad. The little girl was adamant on growing up. He left her room, remembering that she hadn’t asked for a bedtime story in months. She read on her own, borrowed piles of books from the library and narrated the stories to him and Tommy and anyone who would listen.

She didn’t need him for that anymore. While it was a comfort in one way, to lessen the duties of parenthood, it clawed at his chest to know that one day she wouldn’t need him at all. He’d had her for nine years and in another nine, she would be off to university, leaving him alone in this house with nothing to do for the first time since she became his life.

23rd December 1999

“Ma…” Tommy called out, his voice breaking as he turned to him, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Joel stepped forward and threw an arm around his little brother.

First dad and now… His chest felt heavy and his throat prickled from all the sobs he held back. He needed to be strong. There was one more funeral to arrange, a little brother to comfort…god, Tommy had seen too many deaths in his lifetime already. This wasn’t going to be easy for him.

And Sarah. She had never seen death before. Loss, yes. Her mother, her best friend who left town, the goldfish that died because he forgot to feed it. But death in the family, that was new.

He let go of Tommy and gave him an awkward pat on the back. “I’m going to call the funeral home.”

The call had been made, their mother was taken away from their family home to join her father and he drove the two of them back to his place. It wouldn’t be wise to stay there, with all the memories of growing up with their parents, especially with the holiday decorations cheering up the place in the most offensive manner.

They were supposed to celebrate together, just the five of them. But god had other plans it seemed. He poured Tommy another drink and leaned back on the couch, mind reeling with all the paperwork he had to take care of and who would take care of Sarah when he was away handling it. Not Tommy, not in his state. He sipped on his beer, watching Tommy as he followed suit.

It had been decades ago, but he remembered quite well what Ma had said after Tommy ran off to complain to her about Joel yelling at him for scribbling on his homework.

“When your dad and I are gone, Joel, you’ll be the one to take care of him. He’s little and he will make silly mistakes. But you oughta forgive him, take care of him.”

Somehow, Tommy looked just as pathetic as he did that day. Innocent, vulnerable and needing comfort. He had seen so much, so much more than what Joel could imagine in his worst nightmares. But Joel would still see him as his little brother.

“Alright, Tommy. You’ve had enough,” he said, prying the bottle of beer from his grip and taking it to the garbage. Tommy didn’t resist, only crumpled down on the couch as he stared at the ground.

“Dad?” Said a low voice, heavy with sleep. He looked to the other side to find her, rubbing at her eyes as she walked further into the living room. He’d just tucked her into bed after she spent almost an hour badgering him about what Christmas presents Santa would bring her that years as he worried himself sick about how he’d tell her that grandpa was dead. Just the thought of her festive excitement breaking to make way for grief… That was when Tommy called him, sobbing and sputtering out the words.

He’d gone to cook something for Ma and found her unmoving on her bed.

“Hey baby girl…” he said, his voice soft as he walked to her. “Did we wake you up?”

She whined and hugged him, placing her weight on him as she let him lead her to the couch. Tommy, realizing his niece was there, wiped his eyes with the cuffs of his shirt and plastered a smile on his face. “Hey Butterfly…” he addressed her in his trembling voice.

“What happened?”

Joel didn’t know how he did it. But he did it. The girl’s eyes were wide as she listened to him, her little hands wrapped around his arms like she was afraid to let go.

“We’ll never see grandma and grandpa again?”

He shook his head, his heart breaking for her. He never had the misfortune of experiencing his own grandparents’ deaths. Half of them were gone before his parents had him and the other half passed when he was too little to remember them.

“There will be a funeral for them. We’ll all get together as a family and say goodbye at Church.”

Her lips curved down and tears brimmed in her eyes, the realization of the true nature of death hitting her. With a wail, she wrapped her arms around him, her bony knees digging into his thighs. “I don’t want them to go,” she cried, her tiny fist punching his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

“I know, baby… I know.” He whispered into her ear, cradling and rocking her in his arms the way he did when she cried as a newborn. “It’s going to be scary because we have always had grandma and grandpa. But we’ll get through it, okay? Together. Daddy’s here. I’ll get us through it.”

“I don’t want them to die.”

“I know, I know,” he breathed and for the first time since he lost the first two people he ever loved, the sorrow caught up to him. Her innocent words, how she thought to speak them to him- as though she believed he could prevent her dead grandparents from dying. In her innocence, he finds his own. For the first time, he allows himself to be more than the responsible older brother who made funeral arrangements and took care of his grieving little brother. His love for his parents, his remaining childlike belief that they would be permanent in his life— They dug their claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out, piercing it, making it bleed.

“Does everyone die?” She asked meekly, fear and curiosity battling each other and plunging them both into the remains of her innocence.

“Yeah. Eventually, everyone dies.”

“Even you?” She asked, pulling back, sweet brown eyes staring back at him. While he thought she had her mother’s eyes, everyone else said their expressions were his. His eyes that he got from his father. For the first time, he saw what they all said. Just like dad’s eyes.

“You don’t worry about that now, baby girl,” he said, caressing her hair. “I’ll be here for a long time. You’ll be a big girl by then. Have a job ‘n all.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Oh, darlin’…” He pulled her to his chest and patted her back, setting a rhythm that he used when her back was the size of his hand and she needed the rhythm to fall asleep on his chest. She relaxed under his touch, the rhythm still having an effect. “It’ll be fine. Everything will be okay,” he lied, a habit that’s come easy to him with fatherhood. Lying was second nature when it came to comforting her, lulling her into a false sense of security about life.

17th May 2000

He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt and wiped his sweat, hoping to look better for Sarah’s game. He was late. By over an hour. Sarah would already be angry at him and seeing his face in the stands so fucking late would only add insult to injury. But he had to try. After all the games he missed, he had to keep his promise to be there for the final match.

He spotted Sarah instantly as he walked close to the field. But she wasn’t playing like he hoped. She was taking a towel from her friend Candace, her lips weighed down by a frown. Candace’s mother offered her a bottle of water and she accepted it politely before walking away and settling down on the stands. Alone. The back of her soccer jersey is stained with sweat and his guilty mind reads the big bold Miller on it as an accusation. Where were you, Miller? Other kids were with their families and his sat alone.

“Baby girl…”

She looked up at him but quickly dropped her eyes back down to her lap, her fingernails scratching at the label of the plastic water bottle. From the frown on her face, he guessed that her team didn’t win. Such a shame since she worked so hard practicing while also keeping her grades up.

“It’s okay you didn’t win,” he began gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tsked and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. Oh she was angry. “You came this far. Finals and all. Second place is still good, you know?”

Silence.

Maybe it would help to regale her with one of his own failures, show her she was doing much better than her old man, maybe even make her laugh. “I was always on reserve and hoping nobody gets injured so I didn’t have to play,” he said, his laugh coming out awkwardly as her frown deepened. Humor wasn’t it, apparently.

“Sarah!” An older woman called out from across the pitch and she looked up at her. From her outfit- tracksuit, whistle at the end of a lanyard around her neck, he assumed she was a soccer coach. “It’s time for the pictures.”

She put her water bottle down on the seat next to her and walked in the woman’s direction. It definitely hurt, her walking away from him without hesitation in the direction of someone who wasn’t family. Like a visible representation of her rejecting him for someone she saw more than him these days.

He let out a defeated sigh and walked up to the pitch and found the huddle of backpacks. Finding her purple one with the butterflies wasn’t hard. He picked it up and threw it over his shoulder and watched as she stood with the kids on her team for the picture. The coach brought a trophy over, big shiny one with ribbons tied to it. Her little friends cheered as the trophy was handed to the girl in the middle, the captain presumably and they all put their hands on it, smiling wide as their picture was taken. His little girl finally managed a smile too, encouraged by Chantal grabbing her shoulder and shaking her.

“She played well, huh?”

He looked to his side to find the owner of the voice, a man older than he was, wearing a red tee, the color of the opposing team.

“Tony,” he said, introducing himself. “I’m your Sarah’s math teacher. And the dad of the losing team’s captain.”

Joel squinted, confused. Sarah’s team didn’t lose? On the other side of the pitch, the red team stood together for a picture, looking a little less happy and holding a trophy much smaller than Sarah’s team.

“Joel,” he said, introducing himself. “Sorry for…uh-” he struggled to find a way to say something nice about his daughter’s performance. But he wasn’t at the game and didn’t know who the man’s kid was. “They played well, your kid’s team.”

“Oh, you’re being kind. Don’t tell my girl I said this, but they played like shit,” Tony said and he laughed awkwardly. Was he supposed to agree or disagree? Which would be more polite?

Joel instead changed the topic to school. “Is it hard? Teaching and having your kid in the same school?” He asked like a fucking idiot. Where did that come from? Why would that even be hard? He would kill to work at the school, see his kid more instead of working mad hours far away from home while she ate at the Adlers’ and went to bed alone. But the job paid shit.

“Well, a little…” he answered, scratching his beard. As the man spoke, Joel’s attention was elsewhere, on the pitch with Sarah. Her team won. The games she'd been stressing over for so long had come to an end and she had won. But she still had that frown on her face. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

She looked sad because he wasn’t there. After he promised he would be.

“…and you’d think she would be much better at math with me teaching her at home and another math teacher teaching her in school, but she’s hopeless. Soccer is life for Dolly. Your Sarah is very good. I’m guessing that’s why I never see you at the parent-teacher meetings. Never nothin’ to ask your kids’ teachers about if they’re doing perfectly well in school, right?”

“Right,” he said, nodding as he felt the guilt eat away at his heart. She had been raving about this match for so long, was so excited when they made it to the finals and drilled the date into his head. But he still forgot. He would lie to her on the drive home, say he had so much work that he couldn’t get to the match on time. But he would know the truth- that he forgot about it until he heard a soccer match inside the house of the client whose deck he was redoing.

“Now, I know your girl is very busy with the debate club, soccer and art. I asked her to join mathletes but she said she was too busy. I think it would be good for her. On her CV and stuff when she applies for college. Plus she needs a challenge.”

He felt smaller in front of the teacher despite having a couple inches over him. Sarah was a smart kid. Took after her mother there. But he wasn’t. He didn’t know art or debate and Sarah had long ago gone beyond the math he knew, taking advanced classes he never took and getting grades he never had on his report card. And did Tony say the math thing would help her with college?

“Yeah, she does,” he agreed, not even knowing fully what he was agreeing over. “Umm… I’ll talk to her about it.”

He traded some words with her teacher, the two of them agreeing to meet at the next game before he left to find his daughter and console her over her team’s loss. In a while, he found Sarah walking to the parking, holding a gold medal and a certificate. He followed and opened the truck door for her and she climbed in wordlessly.

“Come on, you gon’ be like that the whole time?” He asked, a couple minutes into their ride.

“You forgot about the game, didn’t you?”

“What? No!” He lied. “I wanted to come, baby girl. I swear. Just took too long at work today because of the sub-contractor. He installed the wrong plumbing for the kitchen and wouldn’t admit to it, so—” he stopped abruptly, feeling bad about his string of lies. But he did nothing to correct it. What was he supposed to say? Apologise for being a shit dad who forgot?

“I didn’t forget, I swear,” he lied again. Lying was second nature to him now. It was easier to lie than to confess to your kid that you forgot about something that was important to her. Plus, it wasn’t going to be worth the fight. She was a teenager and on a goddamn debate team. She knew how to argue. Whose idea was it anyway to teach children how to argue better? No one from the south, he was sure. Had he argued with his mama, he would’ve gotten a belt to his ass.

“Fine,” she huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

“A’right,” he said, feeling a weight leave his shoulder. “How ‘bout we get some pizza and celebrate your win? We can watch a movie too.”

“Okay fine. But I get to pick.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll watch Toy Story again,” he said, smiling as her grumpy face lit up for a moment before stretching thin into a neutral expression. He had watched that movie a million times because of her. Their CD had given out from scratches from the number of times they watched it and he had to buy her a new one.

“I didn’t say Toy Story,” she said defiantly. Right… She was growing up now, watching fewer movies from when she was younger to make herself look older and cooler around her friends. He remembered that stage with Tommy.

“Sure, baby girl,” he teased, driving in the direction of their favorite pizza place.

27th March 2001

“Don’t be scared, a’right?” He said, holding her face in his hands. She nodded, putting on a brave face even though she was afraid. “I’ll be right behind you. Won’t let those assholes do anything. Uncle Tommy is inside the store too. We’ll take care.”

She took his word and got out of the truck, following the path she usually took when she walked home from school. She came home crying the other day, talking about how she didn’t want to go to school anymore ‘cause a bunch of guys stood outside a store leering at her and talking shit.

He was ready to go to prison for murder immediately, but Tommy chose to be the smarter Miller for the first time in his life and hatched a plan. Nothing elaborate. Just intimidating the whichever boys dared to fuck with his kid.

He followed Sarah at a safe distance, close enough to protect her from danger while also making sure to maintain enough distance so as to not alert the guys into running away. A few minutes in and he spotted them. Not boys. Not misguided teenagers like he was expecting. Men. Grown men older than him. He caught how their eyes crawled over his kid, how she squirmed under the gaze and he immediately wants to slam the three of them into the fucking ground. Pull their eyes out and kick them to their fucking death.

She was twelve.

He stopped outside the store. A little bodega he frequented. Tommy seemed to have similar thoughts running through his head, his hands curled into fists at his sides as he burned holes into the men’s head. They communicated with just their eyes. We’ll wait for Sarah to get home.

Joel didn’t know how he managed to wait until she walked into their street. From a distance, he could see her opening their front door and letting herself in. She better have locked the door.

Intimidation would not work on these men. Not was it enough for their disgusting act. Joel’s stomach turned as his mind replayed the way they looked at her. No wonder she was afraid. His poor girl.

They took the men out back, hand on their back, words exchanged about needing to ask something. He didn’t remember how much punches and kicks he and Tommy landed, but it seemed enough. Sarah walked home peacefully again. But peace eluded Joel from then on. He was raising a girl. He could remember how his female friends in school had to keep themselves safe- keys in between their fingers, a trusted male walking them home when it got dark. He thought nothing of it then, even walked some of his friends home to keep them safe.

It was different experiencing it as a dad. Now men were part of the list of things he had to worry about- concussion from football, period cramps, eating too much chocolate, fucking terrorists taking out goddamn buildings— He cursed the part of him that once wanted his little girl to grow up faster so he didn’t have to change diapers anymore. He would take diapers over this any day.

4th March 2002

“Uh huh,” he hummed as the client hammered on about his good for nothing son who he caught smoking weed and sneaking out to some party. He would’ve whipped out the picture of Sarah in his wallet and rubbed it in the man’s face that his kid never got into trouble and was a straight A’s student. But part of being a contractor was not being a complete fucking asshole to his clients. So he shut up.

Plus he was in no mood to brag.

He returned home late. Again. It had become the topic of all his fights with Sarah. He could understand why she would be angry. But understanding didn’t put money in his pocket or food on their table. It most certainly did not go towards Sarah’s college funds. Animals were what took up her thoughts these days. She brought home a ton of books from the library, ranting off about the different animals and how she wanted to take care of them for a living.

This obsession had stayed longer than the last one. She he believed their neighbor’s dog was to blame. And the stray cat that followed her home to get some scraps of food.

He would’ve brushed it off as his sweet daughter being kind to every fucking thing all the time. Well, he did. Until she dropped the bomb.

Veterinary medicine.

Curious, he slipped into the library close to a store he was building and sat in front of the computer. The number had enough zeroes in it for him to need a doctor and since he couldn’t afford the human one, a veterinary doctor like his kid wanted to become. It wasn’t something he could afford. Not a pet to satiate her obsession with, not a doctor for himself and certainly not enough to make Sarah an animal doctor.

He had just finished paying off the house and now this… Couldn’t she have chosen a different job to do with animals? Or relegated puppies to hobby instead of career. But the puppies weren’t the problem. He was.

No matter what education she decided on, it would end up breaking his back. When at the library, he had gone over a few other degree costs. While not as expensive as medicine, they were still significant costs. There was a little bit of inheritance from his parents, he had started an account in her name and kept his share of the money in it. But it wouldn’t be enough for a college degree.

Sarah’s anger over him not coming home on time hurt. Missing her games and not cooking her the best meals made him realize the failure he was as a dad. But by god he wouldn’t fail to give her a good education. Had he had that, he would be able to give her a better life. And he would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to give her the education to reach her dreams.

27th September 2003

Sarah Miller came into the world crying when the doctor handed her to him, small and covered in blood. He took her into his arms then, his hospital gown red with her blood and he held her to his chest. His voice trembled as he introduced himself to her.

“Oh, baby girl…” he’d said as he looked down in wonder at the person who would become his entire world. “It’s daddy,” he said as tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. There would be no one adopting her. He wouldn’t give her to anyone else. No one could care for her the way he did.

She left the world the same, crying and gasping for breaths. She was still light in his arms, too easy to carry and still so little. The blood her father gave returned to him, oozing out of her bullet wound and covering him in his failure. He was supposed to have cared for her much better than anyone else could have.

His mother had taken her from his arms then, telling him she knew better, excited to see her grandchild even though she’d thought until then that they would give her away to another family. His brother tried to take her from him now. He held her closer, a whimper akin to that of a wounded animal escaping his lips. The chaos reeling on around them and the sobs that wracked his body weren’t enough to convince him that his world had ended.

A pole marked her grave, dug hurriedly by her beloved uncle.

“We’ll be back, okay?” He reassured the girl’s father, his hands squeezing his shoulder. Stifling a sob, he removed a chain from around his neck, a pendant shining silver from the light of the moon that sat peacefully in the sky as though unaware of the chaos underneath her.

He wrapped his chain around the pole.

MILLER

THOMAS R

9913387701

B POS

CHRISTIAN

A lot would change in the next two decades. But the dogtag would stay on the pole above her. Marking the grave of a child well loved, a name she shared and the type of blood he could’ve donated to her to save her life. The little girl would rest, but the man who had to be dragged away from her grave never would. He would wander, much like the zombies themselves, trying to find his purpose.

#joel miller #joel and sarah #joel and tommy #tommy miller #uncle tommy #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #dad joel #pre outbreak!joel #pre outbreak!tommy #joel the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #all that i've inflicted on the world

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optimismxmagicism · 2 months ago

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TOA Anniversary Munday

(TY for the template Neffi!)

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Queen

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday (no year): October 18th

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Netherlands, CEST

How long is your roleplay experience? Uhhh about 10 years now I'd say?

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Gamefaqs had a thread where you could create your own Fire Emblem Fates character. I joined out of curiosity when i was like 13 or so and things just kinds went from there.

How were you introduced to TOA? Rosie, my online big sis, sometimes shared snippets of her experiences with me. I got curious and the rest is history.

Do you have any pets? I have an elderly doggy named Beef :)

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Winter, definitely. I'm a cold over heat kinda girlie and I like the early nights and cold weather. Perfect for soup!

What is your IRL occupation? IT support service worker and Maid Cafe waitress during the weekends.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I'm big into cooking, gardening and cleaning.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Final Fantasy, Genshin Impact, Persona, Danganronpa, Pokemon, Tales of, Uchikoshi games, just to name a few. Also big into Otomes and BL games.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Fairy! Favorite is probably Sylveon and Vivillon.

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! - I am an auntie to 3 adorable little nephews. Love babysitting them :) - Truly I am a girly girly girl. I love pink and cute things and all that goodness. Always have firmly believed that femininity is strength and anyone who disagreed with me has been ground to dust under my heels :) - I used to have a YT channel where I uploaded my own vocaloid covers. I stopped though because I lost interest and the videos gained little traction.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? *Deep sigh* Ike x Marth Yaoi during the Smash Bros Brawl days.... This was before I knew anything about either character and just thought they looked cute together.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? All of them except for Gen 2 of Genealogy (glitches killed that run) as well as Thracia. I'll get to them someday...

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: My First game was Shadow Dragon. My favorite is a tie between Sacred Stones and Three Houses

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Ashe, Ewan, Nils, Nina, Dimitri

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Wolf. This was because I was still young and just entered my "started liking boys that weren't squeaky clean" phase.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Dimitri.. If you know me you know I'm down horrendous. Sorry kwdjwkdj. Chrom and Xander are also hot.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: Chrom forever and always. - Fates: Tsubaki was my first. Nowadays its Xander, Jakob or Shigure. - Three Houses: Dimitri. Its always Dimitri. If I play BL and I don't choose Dimitri I have been killed and replaced. - Engage: Diamant was my first! I also really liked Kagetsu and Amber.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? Dancer!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? I'd be the cleric that needs to be babied at first but gives cracked heals later on. High magic/speed/resistance, low Strength/Defense.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Blue Lions baybeeeeeeee

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Faith Reason Authority - Banes: Axes, Brawling, Heavy Armor

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) Wherever Kagetsu's from.

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) To-ah.

Current TOA muses: Ewan, Nils, Byleth M

Past TOA muses? Uhhh from the top of my head: Saleh, Rolf, Nina, Takumi, Male Corrin.

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Ewan was my first! I don't think I'll be dropping him for a long time as he's just become so special to me :)

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? Characters that put up a front of being easygoing or simple, but have a lot of inner troubles they hide from others. Those that like to make others happy.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? Very masculine types. Manly Men or Muscle Himbos are characters I greatly enjoy but just don't like to write.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? I like writing scenes where characters bond with each other, either over an earnest heart to heart or silly shenanigans.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? I would love to write a scene where the mask just fully crumbles and the entire truth is revealed about my muses deepest feelings. Also for Byleth specifically I'd love to write post timeskip scenes where he's in touch with his emotions and takes on the role of Archbishop.

Favorite TOA-related memories? A specific one was Andrei's turnaround on Ewan during the halloween candy game. It was one of the first major bonds Ewan would end up developing.

Present or past tense? I Try to say I'm past tense mostly but sometimes I jumble things up a little.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? I've started trying small text recently, but I'd say I have no real preference.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 Nope! I think I'm set for now. There is one character that, If the opportunity ever arises I'd want to get but not right now.

#(ooc: let's take it easy!)#munday

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tohellandback99 · 11 months ago

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Well, I feel bad for Raul who has to sit and listen to all the creepies online, white knighting him as if there was anything to white knight over. By also attacking and derailing and defaming his person of interest, Kat, for absolutely no fucking reason, all while choosing to be tone deaf to the whole reason why she’s the “asshole,” to begin with. And the fact that he stays with her throughout on his own accord because he genuinely likes her no matter how you choose to look at it, he’s not an imbecile and understands why she is having a hard time intrinsically (and from experiences,) and simply wants to support Kat.

Yes he probably understands. Yeah that’s right. During, those three nights, and four mornings of them knowing each other, or being reunited with each other. Because maybe, that’s the whole goddamn point. AND MAYBE, the ending of the movie was just the beginning of their “acquaintanceship.”

So wait…. you didn’t, watch the movie? All you did was lurk upon Raul in certain scenes with Kat and thought, “hey, she’s being a dick. I’m gonna go post about it now!”

Raul didn’t ask for this, and you’re not saving him at all you’re just sneakily choosing for him like he’s a baby with no autonomy. And just for which you feel so strongly about him without looking at anything else this movie had to say, makes me wonder if you want him all to yourself locked inside of your musty weird sultry basement.

What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you care so much who Raul wants to be around? Are you jealous of Kat or something? It kinda feels like it. Yikes

So for everyone’s sake,

Leave Raul, a fourteen. Yes, let me remind people since someone has forgotten already. Leave this FOURTEEN-year old transgender BOY, who is a literal DOLL, out of this! He’s not YOUR puppet. He’s his own boy and you can’t keep him contained in your deranged fantasyland. So he’s hanging out with a girl with bad PTSD who’s his own age!? Too bad, princess. Deal with it.

You have nothing to do with him. You ain’t his mom, you ain’t his dad, and you’re not his teachers, friends, and his doctor. Luckily, you’re not even the creep neighbor next door to him. You’re absolutely NOTHING, to Raul. So let the teenage boy, be a teenage boy. How bout that?

And if you didn’t watch the movie then don’t fucking come over here with your CORRUPTED Raul obsession and then tell everyone Kat’s story like you have any degrading leg to stand on. Lol, I scoff at the notion. You don’t, you’re not an expert on this subject, and your opinion is crap on my cat’s fuzzy ass that will just be stuck there for two days, and then later disposed of. Watch the movie and get some therapy, or fuck right the fuck off. And please for the love of all humanity, leave the children alone!

Thank you to the majority of the people who I know is almost everybody out and around and everywhere here, who either don’t care or who have the rationality to contemplate the fact. that actually. you can’t make Raul run around with no shoes on in the snow to desperately speak to anyone other than Kat, with VISCERAL YEARNING. This is not directed at you, just to the ONE PERSON, and potentially any other two people here who want to “protect” Raul. Happy Holidays 💜

Yes

(Deleted my post after because this one says all I needed to say really.)

#raul cocolotl #wendell and wild #w&w #jordan peele #henry selick #Raul and Kat #kat elliot #netflix #leave him the fuck alone #leave her alone #absolutely disgusting

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jackhues · 2 years ago

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peanut's dad(s?) - storyline

okay i can't choose between aus and barzy so i made a quick storyline for each of them and you guys can vote using this poll || also, the tag peanut's world! au has all of these

auston matthews:

mama and auston met through willy. they dated for over a year, before mama got pregnant. they weren't super serious during that time, but they were having fun with each other and loved each other so they never broke up. mama and aus knew they weren't endgame from the start, but once mama's preg, they decide to try for baby peanut

mama's in toronto for the start of her pregnancy, but within a few weeks, mama realizes she can't do it. aus is gone a lot of roadtrips, and mama's really sick during the start, and she just can't be alone. that's mama's biggest thing. so she talks to aus and tells him it's not working. there's a fight, bcz aus tells her she's not trying, but she tells him she can't try anymore. she's sick and tired and alone, and she loved being with him while they were dating, but she can't once she's preg. it hurts bcz they're still in love with each other, but they knew they weren't endgame, so it hurts a little less.

aus lets mama go bcz he loves her, and if you love someone, you have to let them go (very tragic love of them)

mama spends her pregnancy in mich, nj, and van. aus comes to visit as often as he can, but he's busy with work.

after peanut's born, aus misses a lot of milestones bcz he lives so far and he's gone a lot for work. he loves her, like he loves p so much, it affects him in everything he does.

girl dad auston is this and you cannot convince me otherwise. he's showing all the new leafs' everything, and mitchy's like, yeah he does this

all three hughes liked aus bcz he likes the leafs and aus is the saviour of the franchise. once aus and mama start dating, they're like oh damn... then boom! mama's pregnant. then boom! they split. bcz mama's okay with aus, luke decides to be okay with him as well. quinn's not a huge fan, but he respects mama's wish for him to be nice. jack is not happy. mama forgives too easily and jack will never forgive someone if they wrong mama. his thoughts are that there's no reason for aus to not step up and take some more damn responsibility of his child.

after a fight when p was around 2/3, mama makes more time for aus to see p during the season, and aus goes to see her too. jack sees aus being girl dad #1 and slowly opens up to aus as peanut's dad

this is most likely not endgame, bcz it's more of a tragic love thing. aus loves mama, he loves her enough not to ask her to leave everything behind to live with him in toronto. and mama loves aus enough that she would leave everything behind to actually be with him in toronto. it's a 'if you love someone, you need to learn to let them go' sorta trope

mathew barzal:

mama and mat meet at a bar in nyc/nj. it's a while before jack's draft and mama's just hanging out with her friends, and she meets mat. mama's a pretty rational person, so she doesn't just fall for anyone with pretty eyes. (but mat has really pretty eyes). eventually the two start talking and dating. nine or so months into the relationship, they find out mama's preg. mat doesn't have the best reaction, and mama's just devastated.

now jack already heard of mat and his 'ways' but having mama call him in the middle of the night, sobbing... jack would've actually hurt mat if he saw him.

mama's leaving to mich, but mat catches her, letting her know that whatever she wants to do, he's there. he'll pay for child support, he'll help out wherever he can, he'll do it. mama just nods, but tells him she's going back to mich. the breakup was never spoken about, but it was mutually agreed on

it doesn't take long for mat to realize he doesn't want to let mama go, and he's conflicted between not thinking he's a good dad for peanut and wanting to win back mama... so he does neither

once peanut's born, mat tries to be a dad, but it's really hard. he can't find lots of time to visit (he'll ft and call, but jack's annoyed bcz there's less travel distance for him). slowly, mat falls into a routine where mama visits him with peanut at least every five or six weeks during a home stand and they live with mat during that time.

mat and mama are most likely endgame. they just compliment each other rlly well

#peanut's world! au #naqia's au's!#auston matthews #mathew barzal #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #hughes!oc #hughes!sister oc #hughes!sister

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bright-and-burning · 8 months ago

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tagged by @landoisokay and @bsaka7 to do my 9 favorite albums (with commentary. i had a lot to say...)

these are all relatively recent because i pick and choose older songs individually more than i listen to them as a single album. like i could pick at least an album’s worth of queen songs, but they’re not all off the same album, ya feel.

in no particular order!! w some explainers below the cut:

dreamland (2020) - glass animals. i almost put how to be a human being but i’ve been listening to that album basically on repeat for the last three weeks so i needed to switch it up. such an experience of an album honestly?? where how to be a human being makes me feel like the main character in an over-saturated murderous movie set in miami, dreamland is like, over-saturated fast car movie set in tokyo (the like. hollywood idea of tokyo, to be clear). forever intertwined with midnight walks through empty cities during covid, driving too fast, the first time i hung out with people after getting to come back to college, neon lights on cinderblock walls and $12 plastic handles of liquor. fundamentally bittersweet as an album imo? but so full of bangers that you forget that it’s . really sad. tokyo drifting with denzel curry was my top song of 2020 and spotify helpfully informed me that i listened to it 30 times on my 19th birthday. lol. the “get loose, streetfighter” with the street fighter sound effect… oh yeah baby that’s art. it’s all so incredibly loud also a song of all time tbh. whole album is floaty and sharp all at once, insane production, the perfect sadness layered underneath, every song building into this brilliant crescendo… perfect album for 2020 eve for like so many reasons, i could wax on about this for AGES so if u want more drop an ask no joke it’ll make my week. still holds up soooo well

lemonade (2016) - beyonce. LOL. this album dropped right around when i was getting cheated on by my gf of. over a year. and then we broke up and i signed the papers to transfer schools the next day without telling anyone. so this album fr got me through uprooting my entire life to start over. (what timing, to get cheated on right as beyonce drops her got-cheated-on album). i knew beyonce belonged on here (too influential musically to me to Not) but i was stumped on what specific album to include (i had 4 on cd in my car in high school, for example, and homecoming: the live album felt like cheating) until i remembered how much play time this one got, and how much i leaned on the album and the visuals then (which. by the way. i bought on itunes bc it wasn’t available for streaming. used precious data bc school wifi wouldn’t let me download it. possibly the last album i bought on itunes??)

save rock and roll (2013) - fall out boy. oh man. 2015 me was on one bc i was a HUGE mcr/fob/atl/p!atd/green day girl but at the Exact same time. a 1d girlie. my shuffle would literally go from mama to up all night. ANYWAYS. was stuck between american beauty/american psycho and save rock and roll, but i think american beauty/american psycho didn’t hold my attention for long and only recently came back on my radar (has some very toxic inspiration won’t lie). the mighty fall ft big sean? life changing. big fan of rappers being dropped into songs that you aren’t expecting them to feature on. “i’m either fuckin or workin so the grind don’t stop” is a work of art. young volcanoes and save rock and roll were legitimately like. the most comforting songs of all time as a sad and lonely 14 year old

when we were friends (2019) - the backseat lovers. starts out so strong and keeps it going. what an album to listen to while absurdly into someone who then starts dating your roommate lol. just like, beautiful stuff. makes me yearn. crazy good to belt out in the car while driving

cleopatra (2016) - the lumineers. feels like home, and being dumb young and in love to me. i’ve been listening to them since ho hey played on our local membership supported radio station when i was . 11?? finally got to see them two summers ago and bawled my eyes out the entire time. this whole album no skips but also like. so overwhelmingly nostalgic and infused with feelings with nowhere to go that i can’t help but want to cry. i learned how to play ophelia on a piano in a basement of a dorm i’ll never see the inside of again lol. patience makes me insane and it’s literally just piano. the lumineers in general make a lot of music that makes me ache for times and places i can’t return to, but this album is pretty peak for it

lungs (deluxe edition) (2009) - florence + the machine. god florence just does not miss does she. dog days are over another local member supported radio station hit. i started listing all the perfect songs off and then had to stop because i was listing the entire track list. floaty and romantic with a heavy edge of morbidity and violence. remember when i said i love when rappers on songs you aren’t expecting? if you listen to anything from this post PLEASE listen to you’ve got the dirtee love ft dizzee rascal from this album. a long ass album that’s good the whole way through, i’ll truly never tire of it

ctrl (2017) - sza. i think SOS might be better and eventually take this slot but i’m trying not to let recency impact this too much. drew barrymore went quintuple platinum in my bedroom in high school. it really was the perfect album for insecure 16 year old me? speaks of growth that listening to this album doesn’t hit me where i live half as much as it used to, that instead of being like damn so real sza to things like . “im sorry im so clingy i dont mean to be a lot... lonely enough to let you treat me like this” im like. damn good song

hozier (expanded edition) (2014) - hozier. take me to church another song that member supported ad-free radio station introduced me to. what a fucking album my GOD. angel of small death and the codeine scene… jackie and wilson was literally like. the love song to me. still is can’t lie. need to be saved and have hands through my hair. every single song has lines that literally make my jaw drop, i feel like i discover something new on every listen through. “free and young and we can feel none of it”… foreigner’s god makes my chest ache. i can’t fucking believe this album is ten years old???

mt joy (2018) - mt joy. another album that reminds me of home; my whole family listened to this for months on end during covid. i’m your wreck is such an opener… “and whatever happens please remember all the laughter” like i’ll cry. my instagram bio is from this song lol. the bit where it shifts into what my family calls shoulder lean mode… anyways. ASTROVAN!!! A SONG ABOUT JESUS SMOKING WEED but like. also an emotional tale of assuring mom how music’ll work out even if they’re broke the whole time. whole album gives me Feelings. this might be the happiest album on this list and it’s. not really that happy. just a very specific kind of like. optimism. we move forward even when we look back. the world fails us but we build it better. idk. like the last song is a break up song, but it’s whole thing is “so if you worry, don’t worry bout me, i always wanted you to see the california coast-line on your own time.” so like yeah, love is burning out, but don’t worry about me. i told u. Feelings.

uhhhh no pressure tagging @mecachrome @freeuselandonorris @monacotrophywife and @oscarpiastriwdc

#tag game

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - Epilogue (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

TW: SEX. FLUFF (!!). Cussing. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Oh, lord, here we are. THE END. It seems highly fitting that it all comes to a close on our man's birthday. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELVIS DARLIN') 💗 So here's some tooth-rotting, sexy fluff for you because I love them and I love y'all.

I have heard your requests for a paperback/ebook loud and clear (ahhh, thank you!) and can tell you I am writing bonus material as we speak and working on the process of self-publishing through Amazon. I will warn you that the physical book is gonna be HUGE (my estimate is close to 600 pages with the bonus material added 😂), but that does mean the cost of the physical book will be a little spendy (not outrageous or anything) because of the cost of printing. Just wanted to let you know in advance!

Also, I know in the past that people were interested in me dropping in for a Q & A type thing on Discord or Twitter Spaces to talk about Pink Scarf...is this something y'all are interested in still? (If not, totally okay!) Let me know in the comments if that sounds like something you'd want!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. I'm hoping to soon have a website and an Amazon page up and running soonish so you can follow my other works. I'll keep you posted! Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, and I can't say this enough, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, 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 and generosity. 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! 👀💋

I also want to give a special shout out to my flower, Daisy, @powerofelvis for keeping me sane (relatively lol) and on track throughout this whole process. Thank you for all your encouragement and love (and for listening to me scream into the void), baby! 💜

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I know I'm terribly slow at getting to them but I love every single one!

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 AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Graceland, New Year’s Eve, 1969

The mansion you now call home still sparkles with Christmas decorations as you make your way through the throng of friends and visitors, smiling and laughing, sipping on a delicious champagne that you are positive is ridiculously expensive for the way it melts on your tongue. Everyone is rested and in great spirits, as 1969 was a monumentally successful year for Elvis Presley Enterprises and all those involved.

For you, it’s been a monumental year in many ways. You would never have imagined six months ago that by the end of the year you’d be in the midst of divorcing Jack, preparing for your new career as a backup singer, and moving into Graceland with Elvis, who you are wildly, madly in love with.

A whirlwind, to say the least.

Speak of the devil, you feel that telltale rise of goosebumps on your skin, that magical sixth sense you are now so aware of when you know that Elvis is watching you. You turn from your conversation with Joe and his wife Joanie to find Elvis gazing at you from across the living room with a dangerously coy smile playing on his lips and that unmistakable glint in his eyes. The heat of the look sets your body aflame, a flush rising quickly to your cheeks.

Lord in heaven, this man, you think, giving him a furrow of your brow and a disbelieving look back, only this man would be so bold as to want to take me in the middle of a party at his own damn house.

But damn it if he doesn’t even waver, completely uncaring that any of the guests might see the blatantly sexual, heated intensity of his stare. He calls it “that lean and hungry look,” and you cannot help the shiver that cascades down your spine because you know he’s about to eat you alive, party be damned.

And sure enough, he strides across the room as if no one else is here, and saying nothing at all, grabs your hand and yanks you away from your conversation. You briefly catch the look of surprise from Joanie and Joe’s smirk before being whisked away.

“Elvis!” you whisper loudly enough for him to hear you, “We have guests!” You manage to set your champagne flute on a nearby table before doubling your steps to try and keep up with his long strides.

He gives no indication of hearing you, though you know he has. But he is singularly focused, which sends warmth into your core and wetness already pooling in your panties because you know what’s coming.

He surprises you by not even making it up the stairs to the bedroom, instead pulling you into the half bathroom on the lower level. You yelp at the change in direction and then he’s slamming you up against the door while locking it at the same time.

Your yelp quickly turns into a quiet moan because his large hands and luscious mouth are suddenly everywhere, all at once. His lips crush into yours, then burn down your neck, sending fire into your belly, and you can’t help but respond. Your hands fly to his head, raking through his scalp. His hand grips the outside of your bare thigh, hitching it up to his waist, his hand slipping under the hem of your dress.

He rolls his pelvis slowly and deliberately into yours. He’s already rock hard, and the sensation of his bulge pressing into your core through his pants has you groaning a little too loud, considering you have a house full of people. Elvis doesn’t say a word though, he just smirks and places a ring-clad hand over your mouth.

That action alone has you melting into a puddle because you know, you just know how he’s going to take you: quick and dirty.

“You better be quiet, lil’ mama, or ev’ryone’s gonna know I’m fuckin’ ya senseless,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. You can smell the musk of arousal on him, the pheromones so strong they are nearly dizzying. He nibbles the lobe of your ear possessively. This action coupled with his words sends sparks showering through you.

You think you might come apart already, and he’s barely touched you.

His brilliant blues are blown black when he draws away. Free hand snaking up your thigh, his fingers first dance over your soaked panties, then dip them underneath the delicate fabric to graze up through your folds and straight to your clit.

Your eyes roll back, his hand muffling the moans that escape your throat involuntarily. He’s so worked up already, he doesn’t tease you long. Two long fingers plunge knuckle deep into your wet heat, the cold edges of his rings making you squirm a little at the intrusion. You begin panting into his hand as he so expertly thrusts and curves them to give you the maximum amount of pleasure as he stretches you out.

This doesn’t last long, though. He’s too far gone and much too needy for foreplay. A deeply primal instinct has taken over the man you love—you can see it written all over his handsome face. And you welcome it, even as you whimper at the loss of his digits when he unceremoniously pulls them out of you. You welcome it as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door. You welcome it gladly as he hikes your dress up to your waist and rips your lacy panties right off your body.

You gasp, hearing the tearing of fabric as your flushed cheek is pressed into the wood of the door, shivering both from the exposure of the air on your bare ass and for what you know is next. Soon after, you hear the clink of his heavy belt and the woosh of his pants as they thump to the floor and then he’s filling you so completely that you are clawing at the door for purchase.

He can’t stop the growl that comes from within when he sinks deep inside you to the hilt, bottoming out quickly. He’s impatient and does not linger, however, instead pulling back and thrusting into you hard, gripping your hips like his life depends on it.

You manage to keep your gasps quiet as he sets a relentless pace. Your entire body tingles, the obscene sounds from your joining sending you hurtling towards the edge of your own release. He knows your body so well, rubbing desperate circles on your clit that, along with the way he’s filling you, already has your legs shaking and abdomen tensing with pleasure.

Neither of you are going to last long. It’s evident as your breathing speeds up and the coil in your belly snaps, causing you to hit your climax hard with a strangled cry. The wave crests fast,and your walls tense and flutter around him. You love how he still can make you see stars, even in these circumstances. His hips stutter, the rhythm faltering, and he follows soon after you with a relieved and gracious groan, pulsing and coating your walls with his arousal.

Heavy breathing is the only sound in the tiny space. Elvis envelops you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your hair as he pulls you close. You live for these moments when he’s stripped vulnerable, his love so evident and overflowing, making even a bathroom quickie more like making love than you’d had in over a decade of marriage.

You sigh into him, and he kisses the back of your head. “Sorry about your panties, baby,” he whispers almost bashfully into your ear.

You can’t help but laugh, “At the rate you go through ruining them, you might as well just buy me the whole store, love.”

Elvis pulls out and turns you around, grasping your chin before pulling you into a deep kiss. It has you melting into his arms, but you know you can’t stay there long, not with a house full of people.

The swell of love you feel for this wonderful, talented, charismatic man is incredible. So many years of shared history has made it easy to slip into a comfortable life with him, so much so that you almost forget what your life was like before. It’s not without its challenges, certainly. He is still mercurial, and you still get locked up in your own head sometimes. The both of you are stubborn as hell, especially now that you’ve taken more agency for yourself in this relationship, more than you ever had with Jack.

As you pull apart and clean up, you feel incredibly lucky that things have worked out the way they have, despite so many years of struggles to make your way to each other.

Once put back together (though sure some of your guests will know exactly what was going on in the bathroom), you reach for the door. Elvis stops you.

“I was gonna wait ‘til midnight and make it a big thing, but I just can’t,” he drawls behind you.

“Wait for what?” you ask quizzically, turning around.

You gasp and your heart begins to gallop in your chest as you watch him sink to one knee as best he can in the tiny space. He pulls a little black box from his pocket. You’re afraid your heart might flutter right out of your body at the sight of it.

“You make me a better man, baby. I love you so much it hurts sometimes, and I thank God every day that He put you in my life. I can’t imagine tryin’ to go another day without you by my side. Now, I know it feels real soon, but if we’re honest, it’s been a long time comin’, and I-I-I know you’re still in the middle of the divorce and all, but y/n, would you do me the honor of bein’ my wife?” Elvis asks, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s both exhilaration and trepidation all at once, flooding every part of you. Part of you screams with excitement: Of course! Of course! Of course, I’ll be your wife!

But another part is filled with latent fear—fear of being consumed by another marriage so soon, still afraid that this man before you will love you and leave you like the rest. Elvis had said many times over the years that he wasn’t really interested in marriage, and you can’t help but think of that in this moment, as much as you don’t want to.

“Elvis,” you manage to breathe, “I thought…I thought you said you weren’t the ‘marrying kind’? That you didn’t want to be tied down? Are you…are you sure?”

You watch something flash in his eyes for a moment before he looks up at you again. He stands and takes your hands in his. “I-I said that cuz I didn’t think I could ever have you. I knew I couldn’t marry anyone else, wouldn’t be right. You’re the only one I ever truly wanted. I-I-I…you’re my soulmate, y/n. It’s only ever been you, honey,” he says quietly, laying it all out for you, as he pushes an errant strand of your hair behind your ear.

A happy tear trickles down your face. You know he loves you—he tells you every day. But this is so much more than that. You didn’t realize he’d put his entire life on hold for you like this. His soulmate.

As much as it scares you, you know it’s true. He’s right. This inexplicable pull that’s been between the two of you for all this time, the pull you tried so desperately to ignore and forget for so many years, is stronger than anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in your life. Every cell in your body yearns for him, and he feels like home. You fit together perfectly. Now that you’re finally in sync, everything just works.

You cannot ignore the truth that finding your way to each other after all these years feels utterly meant to be. He is there when you need him. He brings out a side of you that you never knew existed—in the bedroom, with your music, your unyielding love for him, even in the hardest moments.

The way he gazes at you now, full of hope and love, makes your knees weak. But part of you is still scared that it’s too soon, that you’ll lose yourself all over again.

Elvis reads your mind, sensing your doubts in that intuitive way of his. “The wedding part doesn’t hafta be right away…I know we gotta wait for the divorce to be final anyway. But whenever you’re ready, whenever you’re comfortable, I’ll be here,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours.

This sends a sense of relief through you, a release of pressure. Finally, you find your voice. “Let me be your everything?” you whisper, taking his face in your hands, your eyes searching his deep and worldly ones.

Elvis knows what you are asking of him, and he doesn’t think twice. His lips curl up into that beautiful grin of his as he nods. “Yes, everything,” he says back.

“Then yes, yes, I will be your wife,” you laugh, through more happy tears.

“Yes?” he asks joyfully, just to be sure.

“Yes!” you squeal as he scoops you up in his arms, pressing his pliant and soft lips to yours.

His hands shake adorably when he slides the tasteful yet extravagantly sized diamond on your ring finger.

And it sits perfectly, as though his ring was always meant to be there. You both stare at it for a moment, your hand resting on top of his.

Squeezing your hand, Elvis looks at you with a boyish kind of awe. “Are you happy, baby?” he asks quietly, his long lashes fanning out as he runs his eyes over your face.

A moment of déjà vu hits you. He’s asked you this before, many different times, and those moments flash through your head, reminding you of your deep history together. The history you now remember and share.

All he’s ever really wanted to do is make me happy, you realize. The thought sends warmth blooming through you.

You look up at him, into that handsome face that you want to spend eternity with. “Oh, I’m more than happy, my love,” you respond. And you are. So much so, you almost don’t believe it. Then you pull him down for a sweet, soft kiss. He drinks you in as if you are oxygen, bringing you closer.

“Are you happy?” you ask as you nuzzle his nose.

“Darlin’, I’m so happy I wanna sing from the rooftop,” he drawls, grabbing your ass. “I’ll marry ya right here in this damn bathroom, if I gotta. Gonna make you Mrs. Y/n Presley. Then I wanna parade you around and let everyone know you’re mine.” He almost growls the last part and presses his long body into yours.

You laugh. “Well, I don’t think we have to resort to getting married in the bathroom, but Mrs. Y/n Presley has quite the nice ring to it,” you say, smiling, putting your hands in his back pockets.

“I love you,” Elvis says unabashedly, suddenly serious.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, kissing him again. “Now let’s go tell everyone how I’m gonna make an honest man out of you.”

He laughs at that, a big and boisterous sound that makes your own heart sing.

And it will do so for the rest of your days.

*THE END*

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interested in me doing a Pink Scarf Q & A type thing on Discord/Spaces! 💗🧣💗

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