#every writer reblogging this with their hopes in the tags i sincerely hope you get so many wonderful comments and likes

[shichidikai]

had a dream where i logged in to ao3 and saw this

so i'm manifesting it for every author who sees this

likes charge reblogs cast, rb to wish kudos and comments upon your favorite fics

[minkkumaz]

can get myself off ur acc 🫣

but any woonhak boyfie thoughts, like he can't stop kissing u, bros literally so in love 🤕

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS

he lay gently on top of you as his kiss pressed against your puffy lips. it was an action that he quite literally couldn't stop, he was just so in love.

PAIRING kim woonhak x fem!reader WC 0.5k TAGS adults dni. established relationship. fluff. lots and lots and lots and lots of kissing. OMI NOTE anonn! you're always welcome to stay on my account i have a very wide variety wink wink. i hope u like this!

there was a point where your lips became puffy and swollen, your eyes half lidded as the heat between the two of you broke apart. woonhak stared at your tired expression, wiping a strand of hair out of your face to see you better.

he lay carefully above your body, wrapping his arms around you to encase your figure in a fuzzy warmth. you were trapped below him, but you never wanted him to let you go. the light brown strands of hair tickled your face.

you pursed your bottom lip, wanting more from him already.  this sight made him smile, leaving soft pecks on your bruised lips and blushed cheeks.

“you look cute like this baby.” he whispered against your skin, “can’t stop kissing you.”

“woon this is embarassing, what if someone comes in the room? you made me like this.” you whine out, puffing air out of your cheeks.

“i can’t help it i’m just so in love with you. none of the other boys care, it’s my room.” he kissed against your jawline.

the love woonhak had for you grew stronger every single day, and now that he had you he refused to take advantage of that. but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. your pretty features drew him in, as if sculpted by angels themselves. so extremely effortless and he doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful

it was the small things about you, making him grow comfort in the person you were. the sincerity of your words, and the jokes that would sneak their way in your vocabulary after hanging out with someone for a little too long. when you’d playfully punch his arm after jaehyun made him use a stupid pick up line on you.

nobody was quite perfect, yet to him you were shaped with so much love and structure that he could hardly believe that. if he could give you a kiss for every single thing he admired about you, your body would feel numb from the constant touch of his lips.

“you’re so corny kim woonhak.” you kiss his forehead, giving him the same treatment he’s given you.

“but you love how corny i am, kim y/n.”

“oh so we’re married now? when did i become kim y/n?” you grin at him cheekily.

“the second you said yes to being my girlfriend.” he took your hand, lifting up your finger ever so slightly to drag and imaginary ring down it, “see? now it’s official official.”

“imagine i break up with you tomorrow.”

“baby! if you did that i’d probably fall off the face of the earth and listen to jaehyuns unreleased songs from when he had his first breakup.” he fakes a sad face before kissing your lips again.

“okay but then you guys could drop a banger breakup album, and i’ll just get back with you again afterwards.” you suggest, placing the pad of your finger on your chin to make it look like you’re thinking.

“just shut up and kiss me pretty face.” you leaned into him, letting the curve fit against you like a puzzle piece. there were only so many words to describe how it felt to kiss woonhak. but the both of you knew that everything about it felt right. just two kids in love.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

[7-wonders]

Time of Your Life

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVIII)

Summary: It's something unpredictable, but in the end, it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

Word Count: 3.6k

A note from the author (it's a long one): "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" by Green Day has been on repeat while I wrote this final chapter for a couple of different reasons. While one will be revealed literally the moment you begin to read this final chapter, the other is for obvious reasons. We've reached the end of Mad Love.

I've spent more time than I should have thinking about the note that I would write to accompany this finale. This story started way back in 2019, born of one of my first one-shots that blew up. Though I had never planned to write anything beyond that original first chapter, people kept asking for a second part. Thus, Mad Love was born.

So much has happened in the five years since I began writing this, both within the story itself and within my life. I've graduated college, started a new job, moved cities and slowly learned how to become an adult. Through it all, there's always been this story to come back to. No matter what got in my way of releasing the next chapter, or how long the breaks between releases were, there were always readers just as excited to learn what was going on with Michael and Reader as I was to write it.

My thanks to anybody who's ever read this story, and my endless gratitude to those who have liked, commented, and reblogged throughout the years. I've fondly read everything left in the tags, from the quickest of keysmashes to the most thought-out notes. The support of my readers was, sometimes, the only reason I chose to write and update, especially in the last couple of years when my interest in this fandom waned. You've seen this story through the highs and lows, and you've seen me, the author, through the highs and lows.

With the end of this story comes the end of my time writing for Michael Langdon, and I'll miss him so much. He was the reason I started this blog in the first place, and getting to get inside his head has been such a benefit in my growth as a writer. Thank you for everything, Michael, you awkward, puppydog Antichrist.

For the last time, I sincerely hope that you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

Mad Love Masterlist

Seven months later

“Smile!”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard innumerable times today, whether directed at you or overheard among the groups that comprise the hundreds, if not thousands, of people gathered. Though you’ve been directed to smile a number of times today, and that doesn’t show any signs of stopping, you doubt you’ll end up being annoyed. After all, how could you be annoyed on one of the best days of your life?

Your arm tightens around Kate and vice versa as you both do what’s asked and smile brightly for the camera. It’s a bit awkward, having to figure out how to hold your diplomas with one hand while simultaneously trying to keep your mortarboards from hitting, but you make it work. Once Kate’s step-mom flashes a thumbs up, Kate insists on one more, and you giggle as she kisses your cheek.

“Mallory, get in a picture with them!” Brennan, standing off to the side, urges.

“Even though I’m not a graduate?” she asks teasingly. 

“Still a bestie,” Kate retorts, wiggling her fingers in Mallory’s direction. “C’mere!”

She fits herself between you and Kate, the missing puzzle piece to your trio, as the three of you pose once more. Mallory will get her own graduation day soon—she only needs another semester of credits to graduate, and plans on returning to school in the fall to finish her English degree. There have already been plans discussed of how you’ll celebrate her own accomplishment, but she’s insisted that talk of this can wait. Today, she said, is for you.

And today, you’re so, so happy.

Sometimes, you never thought that you would actually see graduation day. Between the routine breakdowns every semester that made you ponder why you actually wanted your degree and how weird and supernatural your life had become in the latter two years of your post-secondary education, graduation seemed so distant, like a barely achievable fantasy. But in the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting among your peers and listening to the same type of cheesy “this is where your life begins” speech that you heard at your high school graduation a few years prior.

This graduation is so much sweeter though, because you had to work for this degree. Through the late nights and tears, the well-researched essays and the hastily finished group projects (the bane of your existence), the relationship drama and the threat of apocalypse—you persevered, despite it all. You earned this accomplishment. This time around, the speeches sounded so much more inspirational, the air filled with more excitement, and the celebrations more deserved.

The best part of the ceremony? Walking across the stage to receive your diploma and looking into the crowd to see Michael standing and cheering with your family, tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. When you waved at him, his smile had somehow grown, and he whistled loudly.

Now, you eagerly search the faces of those streaming around you outside, hoping to see someone familiar. While you found your family right away after the ceremony officially concluded, Michael split off from them for a bit, making you wait to find the one person you wanted to see most. When you finally see your favorite pair of blue eyes, you peel off of Kate and Mallory and run to him. Michael opens his arms and happily wraps you up in a hug, the both of you swaying from side to side.

“Well?” he finally says, pulling away from you to fix your mortarboard, knocked out of place when it hit his forehead. “How’s it feel, graduate?”

“Feels pretty damn good,” you declare, flipping open your diploma and gazing down at it proudly. Your name and your major are written ornately, declaring that you’ve fulfilled the requirements of your degree. Michael kisses your cheek as he looks it over, tracing the engraving of your school’s crest on the inside cover.

“I’m so proud of you.”

You become unexpectedly emotional at this, tears pricking your eyes for the first time today (honestly, you thought this would happen sooner) and your throat growing tight. While you know that he’s proud of you all the time, hearing it on the occasion of the biggest accomplishment of your life so far makes it extra special. “Thanks, love.”

He kisses you chastely, acutely aware of the fact that your family is watching. It’s sweet, how eager he is to impress them. You’ve told him multiple times that he doesn’t need to try—he succeeded at making them like him from the get-go, simply due to how he treats you. Michael, of course, didn’t grow up with any idea of what a semi-healthy family dynamic is, and still believes that he needs to continually earn their approval. It’s a stark difference from the Michael that he was veering towards becoming a few short months ago, and you’re so thankful for it.

He wasn’t lying that night in New Orleans when he said things would be different from that point on, and that included his attitude.

Even after your return from your fall trip, as Michael officially put a stop to the apocalypse plans and started charming and convincing investors and Cooperative members alike into believing that Satan’s will had changed, you could tell that there was something weighing heavily on him. It was in the way that he looked at and acted toward you, the way that he hugged you in the morning and held you at night—like he was so worried that he was going to lose you, or like you would disappear if he looked away for too long. After asking him time and time again what was wrong, only to receive the same answer, that he was fine, you finally sat him down and asked for the truth.

“Honesty, remember?” you said. “We promised that we were going to communicate now.”

Michael considered what he was going to say for a while. You sat in silence with him for almost twenty minutes, holding his hands in yours and waiting patiently for him to gather his courage. Finally, he spoke.

“I saw the future,” he said. “The future that would have happened if I actually ended the world. It was a complete wasteland, devoid of almost all life. Those who survived the initial fallout were riddled with tumors and sores from the toxic air. They did terrible things—stealing, murder, cannibalism—just to survive. Nothing, though, was as terrible as me. I became…a monster. Someone cruel, someone evil, who enjoyed playing with the lives of those left like they were nothing but puppets. The only thing that I cared about was my father’s approval, and with the world ended and depravity everywhere, he encouraged me to lean into that depravity.”

Michael stopped when he became choked up, and his hands began to shake. One of your hands went to his cheek in comfort, only for him to let out a sad, distressed sound at the act. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“In that future, you—you died,” Michael blurted out.

“I did?”

He nodded as tears began to run down his face and make his eyes look impossibly bigger. “You died, and I couldn’t save you. I was too late, and left with nothing but your corpse. The image has haunted me ever since I saw it. When I look at you, all I can see is how lifeless you looked in my arms.”

It made sense, then, why Michael treated you the way he did. If you had a vivid image of the future, one where he was dead and you were forced to bear witness to it, you’d likely have acted the same way. To see him in this much pain over what he witnessed hurt you in turn. Sniffing back tears to try and remain the strong one (because Michael needed comfort in that moment much more than you did), you took his hand and placed it on the side of your neck.

“Do you feel my pulse, thrumming away under your fingers?” you asked, waiting for him to nod before moving his hand to your chest. “Feel my breathing? I’m not dead. I’m here, alive, and with you. And if I have it my way, I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael pulled you to him, and you straddled his lap in order to get as close to him as possible. If it took you plastering yourself to him in order for him to hear the truth in your words, then you were going to glue him.

“Yes, you saw a future where I died. But what matters is that this isn’t our future. Our future is this one, where you’re changing your path to ensure nothing like that happens. And it won’t, okay?”

It’s taken a lot of work and reassurance to get Michael to believe that the future you were on a crash course for is no longer even an option. With Satan’s recent acceptance of Michael’s alternate plan—“the long game,” Michael likes to call it—he’s finally starting to come around.

“There he is!” Kate says triumphantly when you pull Michael back to your group. “We thought you got lost.”

Michael smiles. “I was just taking my time.” He turns to Brennan and grins, abandoning holding your hand so that he can greet his friend (his friend! Michael has a friend!) with a hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, man!” The joy on his face at Michael, notoriously not the best at touching, initiating a hug is evident, and you and Kate share a fond look over your respective boyfriends’ shoulders. Never did you think that your sheltered, half-demon husband would become good friends with a self-described frat bro, but stranger things have happened.

“Are you guys coming to the bonfire tonight?” Brennan and a couple of his closest Lambda Chi brothers had planned a farewell beach bonfire for tonight. It’s supposed to be pretty lowkey, according to Kate, with maybe thirty people at most—rookie numbers for an event hosted by Brennan, but ones that make the event more appealing after a long weekend of graduation festivities.

You shrug. “Maybe. We’re going to dinner with my family after this, so I’m not sure how long it’ll take or how peopled-out we’ll be.”

“Oh, you have to come!” Kate pleads. “What if this is our last night all together?”

“It’s not going to be! We have plenty more adventures in store,” you assure her. After all, it’s not like she and Brennan are going anywhere yet, not with Brennan finding an engineering job in the area and Kate getting a job offer out of her internship.

“But you and Michael are going to Europe in a month, and by the time you get back summer’s basically over and you’ll be off to grad school.”

You smile at the reminder of what’s in store for you. Michael was finally making good on his promise to sweep you off your feet with the “date” of a lifetime. Greece, Italy, England, and France were on the docket for your European adventure, but one of the perks of having an Antichrist husband who controls the world’s most powerful people is that you can change your plans to whatever you want them to be.

And grad school! While you’re excited to be in a new area, and to continue your studies in a field you love so dearly, you’re most excited for Michael’s future. In addition to what he’s already been doing with the Cooperative, he’s also planning on taking a couple of classes at the same school that you’re attending to find a major he’s passionate about. His orientation day is the same as yours, and you’re a little too excited that you’ll get to take your student ID pictures together. For the first time in a long time, Michael seems happy and excited for what’s in store. As for you, you couldn’t be more thrilled that he’s discovering who he is outside of being Satan’s son, which is all you’ve ever wanted for him.

“You said it yourself though, Europe’s not for a whole month!” you say to try and cheer Kate up.

She pouts and drags Mallory to her after a moment of thought. “Okay, but Mallory goes home tomorrow night! What if that’s it for us?”

It won’t be, since you and Kate literally have the tickets already booked for a trip to see Mallory in New Orleans before school starts in August. But despite your best efforts, the nostalgia gets to you. This likely will be the last time all three of you get to hang out together here, at the school where you all met. The longer you go without speaking, the wider Kate’s smile grows. Oh, she knows you too well!

Luckily, you’re saved by a member of your family grabbing your arm. “We’re going to head back to our hotel to get ready for dinner. We’ll meet you in an hour, alright?”

You smile and nod. “Alright, love you!” 

Hugs are given to both you and Michael (who still looks delightfully pleased that these people don’t all hate him simply by virtue of him being alive) before they split off. The conversation with Kate is forgotten for the moment as you make the rounds with some of your other friends, going through the routine of congratulating and smiling for pictures over and over again.

“We should probably get out of here if we want to be on time for dinner,” Michael eventually says into your ear. 

You nod after checking your watch to see that he’s right and head over to Kate, wrapping your arms around her from behind in an attempt to scare her. Instead, she just laughs and turns around so that she’s facing you.

“Hey, we’re leaving,” you tell her.

“But we’ll see you tonight, right?” she asks hopefully.

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” Kate’s eyes grow wide, and she clasps her hands in front of her. “Please please please?”

You sigh. “We’ll see…”

Naturally, you end up sitting in the car next to Michael as you pull up to the location Kate sent you at that damn beach. 

The sun’s just barely set, the horizon still a light yellow as the last rays of light try to cling on before giving way completely to the night. It silhouettes the scene below, where your friends are clustered in loose groups around the fire that’s already going strong. Their laughter, along with music playing from a speaker someone must have brought with them, can be heard even up here, at least a hundred feet away. It makes you eager to join them, and you reach into the back seat to grab the bag that you packed with a large blanket, some drinks (both with and without alcohol, for wherever the night leads you), and a couple of snacks.

“You made it!” Mallory cheers when you and Michael walk hand in hand to the group, Kate jumping up to hug you like it’s been years since she’s last seen you—one of your favorite traits about her.

“What can I say? Someone’s pretty convincing,” you tease.

Kate laughs triumphantly. “Damn right, I am. C’mon! Have a seat.”

Doing as she says, you spread out the blanket next to Kate, Brennan, and Mallory, lay your drinks and food out so that they can be shared, and get comfortable.

The night passes like most get-togethers with your friends do: with lots of laughter. And when there’s not laughing, there’s talking. The topics range from anything to everything—the simultaneous feelings of excitement and fear at what’s next, sharing memes, updates on job hunts, new music recommendations. Being able to fit fifty different conversations into one hours-long period is one of your (many) favorite things about your friends. You, Kate, and Mallory eventually end up on the topic of your Europe trip, both wanting to know all of the details now that you’ve gotten it mostly planned.

“How are you going about the Greece portion?” Kate asks.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Kate fumbles for a moment, unable to find the words. “Mal, help me out here.”

Mallory nods, apparently knowing exactly what Kate means. “You know, are you going to look at all the history and culture, explore some ruins and visit museums? Or are you going to live out your Mamma Mia fantasies, endless days spent on the beach, swimming in the crystal blue ocean, and,” she casts a look at Michael, currently chatting with Brennan and Jack, before waggling her eyebrows, “dot dot dot?”

You and Kate both laugh, with Mallory joining you after a moment of trying to keep up her straight face. “How long have you been holding on to that one?”

“Actually, only when Kate tossed the question to me.” She shrugs and sighs. “It’s hard being a comedic genius, but somebody’s got to do it.”

“But for real!” Before Kate can ask you the question again, another song starts up and she lets out a pleasantly surprised shout. When she looks at Brennan to get his attention, he’s already looking back at her. “Of course, you snuck this song onto the playlist.”

“I had to,” he says bashfully. “Beach bonfires get me feeling all sentimental.”

“We met at a beach bonfire,” Kate says to you and Mallory. “Labor Day weekend of our sophomore year! This song comes on, and suddenly I find myself talking to a guy who also thinks Perks of Being a Wallflower is one of the few movie adaptations that’s just as good as the book.”

“How did I not know that!” Mallory exclaims. 

“Brennan, you’re such a sap,” you tease.

“Only for my lady love.” He crawls over and kisses her, so naturally it’s your and Mallory’s duty as her best friends to gag when he does so. “So? May I have this dance?”

Kate goes along happily, allowing Brennan to pull her up and spinning with him in the sand. Michael joins you now that his conversation’s been broken up, settling back down on your blanket and pulling you against him so that your back is to his chest. You both watch your friends dance for a bit, a few others on the opposite end of the fire getting up to join them.

“Do you ever think about it?” Michael asks you, bringing your attention away from the scene in front of you.

You look at him curiously. “Think about what?”

“How we would have met if I wasn’t who I am. What our life would have been like.” He smiles, a slight movement tinged with self-deprecation, and takes a drink of his water before continuing. “I do. In my head, we met on the first day of class. It was probably some gen ed—English, I usually imagine. I would have sat next to you because it was the only empty seat left, and by the end of the second week, I would be asking you for help since I’m not the best at writing. We probably would have started out as friends before I got up the courage to ask you out on a date.”

“That does sound nice,” you admit. 

Though you won’t say it aloud, sometimes you’ve thought the exact same thing. How, if he was just a regular guy, your love story would have been something simple, something normal. You never would have been kidnapped (twice), or poisoned by Satan, or forced to marry the Antichrist, falling in love with him despite your very best efforts. You wouldn’t have had to spend so much time and energy worrying about the world ending while trying to figure out how you, a mortal with no sort of powers, could stop it. There wouldn’t be some alternate future out there where the world did end and you died, according to Michael, a painful and traumatic death.

“You know what, though? If I had the chance, I don’t think I’d change our story.”

He looks at you in bewilderment. “Even after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve put you through?”

“Have the things that we’ve gone through been crazy and oftentimes fucked up? Yeah, absolutely. But for every bad, there’s been so much good.” 

With Michael snapping for the first time and accidentally hitting you came going on your first “date” with him and learning that he really likes mint chocolate chip ice cream. When you were in the trenches after Dinah gave you the potion to reverse the effects of the poison apple, Michael never left your side and cared for you diligently until you woke up. The Cooperative meeting you attended, the one where you watched Michael incinerate a man with his mind, seemed a fair trade-off for getting to experience your senior homecoming with the man you love.

“I love all of you, Michael, demonic parts and all. If you weren’t the Antichrist, then you wouldn’t be the man that I love. So yeah, I’ll take everything we’ve been through. Because everything we’ve been through, we’ve done together.”

Michael’s laugh sounds surprised, as though he was waiting for you to reveal that you’ve been lying this whole time. “I love you too.”

While you and Michael had an impromptu heart-to-heart, more of your fellow beachgoers got up and started dancing as songs came and went. The song changes once more and this time Mallory jumps up with a whoop, grabbing Kate’s outstretched hand and spinning herself under it. As the two start to move with the beat of the song, they catch your eye and begin beckoning you over. Laughing, you shake your head and settle yourself more firmly against Michael.

“Aren’t you going to go dance?” he asks.

“No.” You smile and kiss him, happy to feel him smiling too. “I’d rather just stay here with you.”

It’s the truth, both for your current situation and for life in general. You don’t have the gift of divination like your husband and best friend—nor any powers at all—but you don’t need them. With Michael by your side, you already know that your future’s looking very bright.

•••

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05 @codycrazy

@love-on-the-murder-scene @gabriella-aesthetic @radicalisopod

[missmaywemeetagain]

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 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03

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[https-furina]

2023 is coming to an end and while this blog has yet to hit one year old, it’s gathered its fair share of mutuals. it’s only fair to give you all some thanks and appreciation before the year closes. if you’re not here i apologise sincerely, i’ll make sure you are on next year’s list.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ mika — @mikacynth

hi mika !! i’ll start with you. i know we haven’t interacted much since you went to university (i hope you’re doing super well !! please take care of yourself) but i wanted to thank you for being one of my first mutuals on this hell site. you were super friendly and you always randomly drop cursed genshin memes in the server <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ mae — @maehemthemisfit

mae, i don’t know where life has taken you but i miss you a lot. it was so fun trying to figure out dango anon and you made me laugh countless times, i just hope you’re doing well <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ bell — @blue-b3rries

ew it’s bell (i’m JOKING) hi sweetheart !! you literally never fail to make me laugh in the network server and you always come out with really random things. it’s okay, maybe next christmas we’ll get you a dictionary /lh i love you !! /p <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ inky — @lemeowade

inky !! my favourite artist ever !! we don’t actually interact too much on tumblr now (i do like a lot of the stuff you rb tho) because we talk a lot on discord now. it’s nice to have someone that checks in occasionally and i absolutely love when you show your art !! it’s clear you’re making progress with it and finding your style and i love it so much. you’re gonna do fab things sweetheart <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ amai — @amaiaqt

one of my favourite writers ever and a fellow cyno simp !! i miss you a lot and it shows because i always get excited to see you in my inbox. i hope life is treating you well and that we get to see you more in the new year <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ general — @watatsumiis

hi general !! i’m sorry we didn’t interact as much anymore but you’re so sweet and fun to talk to !! i love your writing and i have the best time reading your tags on people’s art because i’m like “damn. that’s so me” and also you always reblog the best art?? it’s wild you keep my dash alive <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ aly — @soleillunne

who are you? anyways hi wife !! i send you appreciation letters whenever things get tough so i’ll dull it down here a little. thank you for being probably my closest mutual, talking to me daily and always sending tiktoks to each other. if you dare think about leaving me, i’ll find you. in every lifetime <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ari — @n3r0-1417

another person that i’m super sorry we don’t interact as much anymore ): you literally never failed to make me laugh and you 100% have permission to kill me at any time, just don’t tell aly. i hope we can interact more in the new year and i hope it treats you well too, you deserve it <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ yui — @ilyuu

yui !! wow i’m really failing on interacting with some of you but whenever you’re on my dash it’s pure chaos?? even with no context i can’t lie it’s funny. i picture it like when the scooby doo gang are running and you see all the different shots and stuff. anyways, 2024 better treat you good !! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ kiri — @kirimoochi

the last time we interacted you wasn’t doing so hot on some fronts and i really hope things have improved for you, sweetheart. you deserve the world and whilst i love your alhaitham & kazuha works, i know a lot of them came from your heart and i hope you’re healing. i pray the new year is kind to you and that things are going better <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ bori — @bboricha

hi bori !! we’ve only interacted a few times because i find it sooo funny when you randomly appear on my dash talking about leon kennedy (because honestly, same) but i hope there’s chances we interact more in 2024 !! fun fact, i followed you for your 5swirl stuff and 1k special (i actually remember what content made me follow you hahahelpme) but i stayed because… relatable. here’s to more interactions !! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ yume — @yaminohimeyume

oh boy.. hi yume !! you know i could sit here for hours appreciating you right? whenever i log into genshin i check to see if you’re online so i can say hi !! i love helping you with bosses, domains or even exploration but even when we just talk and i don’t join you, it’s nice to have a conversation with someone. you’ve provided me with plenty of distractions this year but in 2024 our goal is to build your characters HAHA i love you !! /p <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ aya — @miuzki

my neuvillette !! i miss you so much, i hope you’ve been doing well and not overworking at all. i know you haven’t really been in touch with genshin towards the end of this year but you’re always welcome in my messages, yknow? i love your writing so much (i still re-read that comfort piece you wrote for me all the time…) please take care of yourself and i hope you have an amazing new year <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ yukari — @ryuryuryuyurboat

is that.. is that my favourite child?! hi ryuu !! i don’t exactly remember how we met. you kinda just appeared in my life one day but it felt like i’d known you forever. you’re an absolute joy to know and you constantly bring a smile to my face !! i’ll c6r5 morrigan first though. have a fantastic new year (and you will not be getting rid of me) <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ lili — @lillonvia

oh my gosh !! my chihuahua !! every time we talk i have the best time ever i can’t even lie like that one time we randomly started reciting the lyrics to california girls and how you started playing on eu server for me. it’s a little crazy with the timezone difference but you’re the amber to my collei and you deal with me torturing you with my genshin va knowledge (did you know cyno is izumi from horimiya?) i love youuuu /p <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ dumbi — @dumbificat

well well well, if it isn't the cutest mf to ever exist >///< it's my co.. parent-in-law? i don't remember because i just remembering rizzing you (oops.) but hey dumbi !! i'll be fr i was always a little nervous/scared to interact with you but i really wanted to and then you joined the network and i minorly lost my mind.. thank you so much for all the smiles and laughter you've brought in these past few months and also for your writing that i am very happily married to. oh and all the fun i get to have helping you explore on eu <3 thank you for letting me join you sometimes. i really hope we get to interact more in 2024 and here's to hoping the new year treats you well!! i love youuuu /p <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ heia — @heiayen

heia. my child. my sweet, funky bean. i love you /p but also. fuck you for how much you make me absolutely lose my shit when it's late for us and i have to be quiet so instead i'm wheezing in bed until i'm crying. chaos hours are the best and you are genuinely such a sweetheart to be friends with. i hope we get to interact more in 2024 (you have no choice) and that it treats you well !! but also, 0.5 stars to the ayaka uber but 10 stars to the network's ooc reporter. mwah! i love you (again) /p (you still need to read to me in some blankets ehehe) <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ coco — @hwaitham

hi hi coco !! we haven't interacted that much (and i'm typing very formal for this post it feels out of character for me) but i've loved your works for sooooo long !! and you and haitham are so cute i just wanna. AAAA you deserve the world and i genuinely hope everything you ever want comes true in 2024 because you just deserve it. if it doesn't, i'll start barking up some trees ehehe. i love you!! /p i hope we get to interact more in 2024 <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ raine — @to-kazuha

oh, it's you /j hi sweetheart <3 2023 has been very all over the place for us but here we are, ending (and starting) another year together !! even if you don't think so, your writing is amazing and i can't wait to see you grow and get more comfortable with it (practise makes perfect!) and also how can i forget that you're my personal miko main.. life would have been a very sad experience if you hadn't came to me on anon in my old blog <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ clara — @umgatochamadopercyval

clara !! you're a very recent mutual so i can't say i have a lot to write (we'll be changing this in 2024 !!) but you are an absolute gem to know. your asks never fail to make me smile and now even your messages !! you're a sweetheart and you deserve a lot of good things. i hope 2024 brings more sagau isekai to my dms and a lot of joy to you. never stop being you !! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ yza — @yzashaven

hi yza !! we've not been able to interact for a while ): but i'd like to appreciate you for all the times you've came to my inbox with angst, i love you so much for it /p and i still have an angst draft with your name on it because of an idea you came into my inbox with !! your writing is so good and i really hope we get to interact more next year. happy holidays sweetheart !! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ honorary mentions — @jingyuansbird, @honeykaes, @nervocat & @bunicate

happy holidays & happy new year to the four of you !! i would love to appreciate you all but i can only go as far as praising the absolute hell out of all of your works !! you're all fantastic writers that i love to pieces and i hope that the new year treats you all well !! here's to more interactions so i can write you all paragraphs next year (cries) <3

signed with love, serafina.

[fadelbison]

the problem is that a lot of fanfic writers won't use a cut, will use tags like 'fandom x reader' or 'character x reader' and not just 'x reader' so people have to fucking filter out every single individual x reader tag. I'd personally just love go be able to go in any character tag and not just see the same garbage x reader bullshit where my favorite character is completely mischaracterized as a daddy dom because people want to fuck them so bad. now get the fuck off your stupid high horse. your dumbass shit about pinterest like fuck off.

thank you so much for this ask - i didn't even add that fanfic authors are persecuted simply for existing in my tags and yet you come into my inbox and demonstrate this point for me with bells and whistles.

so you admit that length and lack of cuts of fanfic posts is only a fraction of your issue with fanfic authors. what you really want is for all those cringefail imagines losers who are correctly tagging their fics to get their dirty degenerate fanfic off your character tags. Just pack up those cringefail imagines losers and send them off to ao3, right? A site that is an archive and in no way has convenient socmed/comms features? And me suggesting that aesthetics bloggers should opt for the aesthetic bloggers website and not the fandom website is offensive to you? Was that my high horse that offended you? Well, I love my high horse and every cringefail imagines loser and i sincerely hope the person writing their daddy dom character imagines are having a wonderful day and blessed with the motivation to write ten more daddy dom imagines and that you die mad about it ♥️

[@pinkkop I really appreciated that you made such a good faith response to the post I reblogged and I tried to leave it be since we are mutuals but yeah...longpost discourse is not what the fanfic discourse is ever really about, is it?]

[rexxdjarin]

(I’m not the anon who sent you hate about Mari!)

I really do mean this in the nicest way possible. This is not intended to insult or belittle you or your writing style at all. I just want to maybe help clear up what some people might find “problematic” about Mari (but the hate anon obviously did a poor job of voicing their complaints because it was very destructive criticism rather than constructive criticism).

I think the misconceptions about Mari stem from the fact that the majority of scenes in both Captain’s Log and Unwritten (I have read both many times) are just smut and lack a true emotional connection between Rex and Mari beyond being physical. That gives off the vibe that their relationship is only rooted in sex and that it’s the only saving grace of the relationship. Sex and love can be mutually exclusive. I understand wanting to write a sexually-liberated female character, because society severely represses women of their sexuality, but sometimes I feel like Rex and Mari are only together because of their physical attraction to one another. Additionally, there is major emphasis on Mari’s beauty from every single character (other than Rex): Shaeeah Lawquane, Omega, Wrecker, Gregor, Echo, Fives, Wolffe...the list goes on. None of her other personality traits are really complimented, just her looks. That might be problematic to some people because it fails to look at Mari as a whole person. Expanding on her intelligence, empathy, and fearlessness in both stories might help counterbalance her seductive nature while not discounting it.

Also, you reblog posts that include details about Rex and Mari’s relationship in the tags, and that’s the only tell about how Mari helps the clones. The audience doesn’t see that in the actual stories because there’s no explicit subplot that shows Mari helping Padmé in the Senate during the Clone Wars. So for those who only read the story, they wouldn’t know Mari’s political background with Padmé, other than an offhand mention of it.

Again, this is no hate toward you. I’m just trying to help elucidate the arguments against Mari. You’re an amazing writer and I admire you so much for your dedication and passion for your stories! I sincerely hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings because that isn’t what I intended at all. I’m open to hearing what your response to these claims, in case I missed something in both stories; you’re the expert!

I don’t even know what to say to any of this. Because despite literally every single thing I’ve put into this story, as much emotion as I can possibly put into the subject matter, I still have people saying and believing this.

Like first of all, Unwritten isn’t finished. I am only 3 chapters in. I have not gotten to explain any of the times she has done things and will do to help the clones politically socially etc. I literally haven’t written them yet.

Captain’s Log started as a reader, so a lot of the things I attribute to Mari weren’t initially in that story because it didn’t start out as being an OC story.

At the end of the day, I feel like I’ve put so many conversations and situations between the two of them that are so much bigger than just sexual stuff.

I’m just writing my stories the best way I can. To sit here and try this hard to dissect my characters and my story is incredibly hurtful. We’re all just here writing stories for fun on the internet. I feel like lately people on here are trying so hard to make me feel like I’m not allowed to do that.

I haven’t written or published anything in so long. I have had a miserable and extremely difficult year as it is which has made writing the stories I love basically impossible. I was really excited to try to get back to my stories. Receiving messages like this from you and others really doesn’t make me want to continue.

“I hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings” while simultaneously calling for me to somehow defend my response to these claims….like wow. Idk how anyone would take this any other way but to be really hurt by it.

So thanks for this. Really made me feel awesome.

[popponn]

hehe popon !!! i'm like trying my best to keep my eyes open bc i am v tired 😞 so i am apologising in advance if there are any grammatical mistakes in this chunk of text 🤞🏻😸 but hi lovely:

WISHING U A HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POPON !!!! i not sure whether it's like ur birth date where u live yet, but it is for me, so i hope this mssg is on time ! but happy birthday to one of the cutest, cleverest and sweetest yoichi kissers in the world 🫶🏻😽 isagi loves u sm and giggles and kicks his legs when u post him on ur blog (real. bro told me and i was "damn yoichi 🤨")

on my friends' birthdays, i usually write a letter and give them my thanks for a number of things. and i think the number one thing i wanna say "thank u" to u for is definitely our interactions <3 u have always been friendly to everyone who interacts w u, including me, and i reckon i'm rly lucky to met u this year !!! u're a kind soul w a lot of love to give, and i think that's why we all love u sm !!! and i'm super thankful for all the times u've visited my inbox/mssges 🫶🏻🫶🏻 it makes me happy hehe

i must also mention that i am so thankful that i was able to find "coincidences and flickers" one fateful day,, like that series has the potential to forever change me as a person and even make me become a temporary isagi kisser (never forgetting who i am 😤) <33 it was that series that helped me find ur blog and realise the insane amount of talent u have for writing !! my favourite writers on this platform often changes (sometimes it's a, or sometimes it's b), but i think u have a fixed position up there <3 i truly adore u and the way u write, so thank u for all the works u post 🫂 it's such an honour to be mutuals w a v skilled writer

i also wanna thank u for all the reblogs u make on everyone's works <3 when u reblog my fics w a bunch of tags, it truly makes me feel like that the effort i have put in didn't go to waste bc there was someone who appreciated what i wrote. also like,, the quality of my writing often fluctuates (😞💔), but u reblog them anyways, and i will ALWAYS thank u for that !! i love uuu (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ🫂💞

oh, and, thank u for constantly feeding my reo delusions 😸😸 not sure if i'd love him the same without u telling me that reo loves me too lol 😽🧎🏻‍♀️

i do hope that everything will treat u nicely today !!! and every other day bc u deserve it <33 eat cake, laugh w friends and mb be silly for a little while—u're not a grandma yet, so have fun being in ur twenties, popon !!!!

love u always 🫶🏻☹️

(i hope u like words bc this was a bit of a read lmao)

SAKI IM SOBBINGGG???????? WHATT????? D: JESUS I WILL BE WORDY TOO!! HOW DARE U MAKE ME ALL SOFTTTT thank u so much for typing all this despite being very tired omg ;;;; im gonna bawl mom im so glad i meet saki the sweetest adgudk (also...my grammar is also a mess i hope this shall be forgiven as i am sincere ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡))

it already is!! :">> thank u for remembering it bae :""" and omg yoichi did all that? i get even more in love :(( pls tell yoichi i also kick and giggle when he breathes :(( AND HEY YOU ARE OVERPRAISING ME WHAT IF MY HEAD GET BIG [ahjussi voice]

saki :(((( im also very thankful i get to meet you this year ue ue ue ;;; i never thought i will ever talk to you (or anyone here at all tbh sksk) like i was very shy and hesitate a lot, but then you are there?? being so sweet friendly and welcoming ;;; like you are one of the reasons i'm here and i mean it??? like you are one of the person who gave me courage to be more friendly here too hehe <3 im so glad i meet someone as kind you saki <3

im gonna start blushing and bawling fr now. IM SO GLAD I MAKE THAT SERIESS ;;;;; (CHAPTER WILL COME SOON TRUST!!) hdfkdj idk what to say here before sounding like a madman so uh ;;;; pls know that i was so happy too when u commented and reblogged so positively ;;;;;;; ghjk saki your praises i think i read them over and over girly u r too sweet for me sometimes ;;;;;; ♡( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

okay channeling my coolness energy a bit, saki 🫵i like your writing GENUINELY!!! okay! so im glad you like the madman ramblings in the tags :>> and come on buddy fic writer to fic writer, it would be impossible to like everything we write SKSKSK remember that one time i immediately lose it after posting that rin studying fic. sigh. stupid ass me. BUT YOU AND EVERYONE WERE THERE AND IT SERVED ITS PURPOSE HOHOHO SO I TOO FEEL IT WASNT A WASTE HEHEHEHE

and i will keep feeding ur delusion get ready (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ also quick mention real quick your cats are cool sunglasses or not

THANK YOU FOR THE WISHES SAKIII!!! omg :((( thank you so much for?? writing all these gosh uhuhuu i will reread this over and over again a lot of times today hehe (no matter how busy and hard it is to open tumblr today!!!) this make my day so much ;;;;;; uhuhuhu and aw <3 i will!!! i wanna make a grandma joke again but for today i will spare saki uwu

i love you always too!!!! 🫶🏻😤

[annas-hair-donut]

[image: a purple banner with the words Work in Progress Wednesday in a cursive font]Work in Progress WednesdayCreators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It’s also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what’s to come!Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist’s sketch and let them know you can’t wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!Feel free to repost this image!

Tagging @thefamilybruno; @annaofthenorthernlights; @glassslippers-n-cowboyboots @keeshya6

Coming off of Smut Week I needed a little break before getting back into The Refugees gear! So here's some fluffy angst from my upcoming (approx. 10 chapter) fic "Head Over Feet" (Yes, like the Alanis song!) about HR!Anna Quinn, CFO!Kristoff Boreman, and female!Hans AKA Gianna West who all work at Elsa's gaming company Frozen Fractals. I hope you like it!

Rated T; this excerpt about 1300 words of Kristanna goodness from chapter 1

Kristoff pinched the bridge of his nose and whined, “You just need to be more responsible. There’s a budget and you need to stick to it.”

Gianna’s words echoed in her brain, and Anna took a closer appraisal of Kristoff than she ever had. 

Even though the office was casual, as Anna understood most offices in the gaming industry were, Kristoff wore an expensive, dark gray suit, maybe five years old, with a cheap black tie every day. His shoes were never scuffed or untied, and there was never a single hair out of place from his slicked back hair. 

His face was always so smooth, freshly shaved, and the fresh scent of Barbasol lingered every time he left her office, meaning he never used aftershave or cologne. Though his eyes were bright brown and deep like wells, they were old and weary, and the area around them was sunken and dark, likely from too much worry and not enough sleep. His shoulders were strong and broad enough to hold up the world so they did.

Anna tuned out the rest of what Kristoff said, focusing on how heartbreaking it was that he put so much time and effort into keeping his life in order, but he ultimately had no control over the things that really mattered. Eventually her eyes settled on the small and barely there freckles over the bridge of his nose, which she’d never noticed before.

As he placed two sets of index and middle fingers, nails so short he could have bitten them to the nub, at the corners of her desk and leaned over, it occurred to Anna that she was one of those things in his life that he couldn’t control. She created chaos and made his life more complicated, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. She was just one more thing on top of the giant pile of things that raised his blood pressure.

Kristoff was just a person, and he was hurting.

“I’m sorry, Kristoff, I didn’t realize I was going over the budget again,” she said patiently and sincerely. She made sure his eyes caught her gaze before continuing. “Do you mind explaining how it works, because I don’t think I understand. And I don’t want to keep messing it up.”

Anna had just opened her heart to him a little, and it was pounding, hoping that her words meant something to him. Either he would be the decent sort of man she thought he was, or he’d have an even bigger tantrum and make her feel so much worse than she ever had since starting at Frozen Fractals. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him, but she felt an unwelcome dampness at the corners of her eyes.

He snapped upright, one hand to his hip while the other hand went to his chin. “Tomorrow morning ok? I have to leave early to get my kids.”

Anna smiled patiently, despite how much she’d gloat over this victory with Gianna later. “I have interviews starting at 9:00. Will 8:00 work?”

The corners of Kristoff’s mouth lifted so slightly Anna almost missed them, and his voice softened into something that felt a little like a tease. “Yeah. I usually get here by 7:00, anyway.”

He did? Even 8:00 was hard for Anna. She could easily stay up to 4:00, but waking up early was something different entirely.

She probably wouldn't get home until very late that night, in fact, or very early in the morning. She bit her lip and thought that whatever she did that night, she couldn't even be a second late for their meeting. If she were, he’d lose all respect for her and he’d never stop yelling and she’d forever feel bad for all of his future blood pressure issues. There was too much at stake to screw this up. 

Feeling better about things after Kristoff stopped yelling, having made a new friend so easily, and having purchased the very last dress available at the store—which just so happened to be her size—Anna felt ready for whatever came next.  Then she spent way too much time on her hair and make-up, but she looked perfect, she thought. Gianna was probably going to have smokey eyes sexy enough for a model, while Anna would have classic and flawlessly exaggerated cat-eyes, just as gorgeous if not as cool. Gianna would probably wear her hair poker straight and slightly damp looking, but Anna’s hair would be plaited into an elaborate but romantic French braid that would make Daenerys proud.

She kept reminding herself that she wasn’t actually going to find the one tonight, but the one tonight, but she tidied her apartment just in case. If some random guy was coming home with her just to sleep with her, she shouldn’t have cared about what her apartment looked like. But, wasn’t there always a chance that fate would give her what she wanted most in life: someone she could love with her entire being? She braced herself for an exciting adventure, then she landed on the side of a cliff.

“Oh, excuse me.”

Anna was a split second away from telling Gianna to take a rain check because the chest Anna had just collided into could just as easily have been the one right now as it could be the one. If she could just turn her head and listen for its heartbeat…

“Anna?”

She lifted her gaze to Kristoff’s wide, blinking eyes, searching for an answer. He looked at Anna for a moment, too, as though not sure what to say either.

“Kristoff? Hi! Do you live here or something?” She tried to be casual about it as she quickly backed away, but he completely took her off guard. 

“Yeah. It’s so close-”

“-to the office,” Anna helped him finish the sentence.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and Anna blushed at the way his forehead wrinkled though his eyes seemed so relaxed, even relieved.

“I’m sorry!” Kristoff said suddenly. “You’re on your way out. I didn’t mean to hold you up or anything.”

“You’re fine,” Anna said with a small shrug. “I’m just meeting up with a friend for drinks.”

“Drinks?” he coughed, betraying his discomfort. Anna smiled slightly when she caught him fighting against checking his watch.

“Are you just getting home from work?” she asked. It was nearly 9:00 pm and he was still wearing his suit, though his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt was undone, revealing just a hint of light brown hairs curling to escape their jail.

He finally looked at her again, a little color in his cheeks, “No, my son had a basketball game. They lost, but he scored a few points.”

Anna didn’t tell him that she was sure he was good at basketball, too. Nor did she mention the way  his voice hummed with pride at the mention of his son. “It must have been really nice having you there cheering him on and seeing how well he did, even though the team lost.”

“Yup,” Kristoff said, uncomfortably, and the reality of his situation set in. He was coming home late, alone, after seeing his son. Because his son didn’t live with him. Suddenly, Anna understood the toll being separated from his wife took on him. He was separated from his kids, too. 

“Well, I’m in 6E if you ever need anything,” Anna offered.

Kristoff smiled awkwardly, and pointed, “So, 8:00 then?”

Anna raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Night, Kristoff!” she said as she walked away.

Anna turned her head towards him just as she got to the front door and he folded his arms. “8F.”

Anna gave him a nod and a small wave, and waited until she was a block away before allowing her smile grow to its full potential and letting out a small giggle.

[burningupp]

burningupp's 1.5k followers celebration event

hi hello everyone! brace yourselves, it's gonna be a long one, so if you just want the event details, scroll a bit further!

before you keep reading; I want to say thank you. 1.5k followers is an actually insane number. when I started posting my writing at the end of 2020, I never expected to get this far. I know updates have been spotty (basically always, but especially now), but I've always seen all your likes, reblogs, asks, and other ways of showing me support. it's what's been keeping me creative, and what's been giving me an outlet for all the dumb little ideas I have in my head. I genuinely hope that my stories have impacted you in some way, whether that be a tiny breath out of your nose in place of a laugh or just something that you've been able to look forward to.

and to those who let me know your thoughts, those who comment, reblog, and send me asks or messages - there isn't a happier time for me than when I am privileged enough to get some insight on what feelings my words can inspire. I read every tag, every comment, and I try to respond to as much as I can. please extend this lovely gesture to other writers, too, so that they get to enjoy your words just as much as you enjoy theirs! ❤️

if you're a silent reader, I still want to thank you. I know I don't see you, and you probably think I don't know you exist, but either way... thank you. the thought of someone possibly reading something I wrote at any given time is a huge source of strength and positivity for me. if you ever do want to come forth and talk to me, I genuinely hope that you feel comfortable to do so - I promise I don't bite.

next up, I want to thank everyone in our lovely discord server, clownracha. I'm not as active as I would like to be, but whenever I do pop in everyone is so welcoming and kind that it's one of the happiest places for me. I have friends in so many different places, and yet we're all writers with similar interests. it's amazing, and I want to thank each and every one of you for continually giving me a place where I am accepted and loved. you're honestly some of my best friends, and I hope we keep in contact until we're old and wrinkly 💕

tagging you all bc ily: @bunnypig18 @sunnytaes @wonkiewolfie @simpracha @jxsungie01 @decaffedthoughts @saltyone101 @inkedtae @hobi-is-golden @my-favorite-bangchan @ferrethyun @ashia4 @brownieracha @kwanisms @snow-pegasus

thank you if you read all of that... excuse all my sappiness, it will be gone in a moment 🙃

now... for the event details!

I reserve my right to deny requests that make me uncomfortable, however for this event, smut is actually fine (I make zero guarantees for quality).

I want you, whoever is reading this, to send me fic prompts. it can be in any format you want - smau oneshot, regular text oneshot, a drabble, a timestamp, a headcanon... anything. I will be writing it and posting it whenever I have the time.

I hope a lot of you participate, I really want to use this opportunity to write whatever you want to see on here! ❣️

yours sincerely,

Josie 💞

[queenofmalkier]

I posted 2,709 times in 2022

That's 941 more posts than 2021!

48 posts created (2%)

2,661 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wot-tidbits

@highladyluck

@amemoryofwot

@birgittesilverbae

@wheelwheelwheel

I tagged 2,701 of my posts in 2022

#wheel of time - 1,811 posts

#wheel of time book spoilers - 1,620 posts

#wheel of time tv series - 700 posts

#rand al'thor - 524 posts

#moiraine damodred - 443 posts

#memes - 403 posts

#matrim cauthon - 358 posts

#nynaeve al'meara - 296 posts

#elayne trakand - 263 posts

#wheel of time fanart - 232 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i'm still recovering from surgery and pushed myself too hard so i'm going to wait until i'm better until i respond but for the most part i

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Somehow Moiraine manages to be the most selfless human being on the planet and also the most selfish.

55 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#4

I’m still mad about the lack of thatched roofs with cranes in them.

What’s your minor-missing-detail-pet-peeve about the show?

68 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

#3

The Ongoing Egwene Exploration

If I’m gonna kick the hive, I might as well cite the books and clarify my meaning.

I’m going to preface this with, while Egwene is not my personal favorite character that doesn’t make her a bad character, a bad person, etc. I do stand by my statement that I find her to be arrogant to the point of being dangerous, and her motivations at time are not as pure as she suggests from her own POV chapters, but ultimately she is who needed to be in the role she played, and she is a vital part of the series.

This is going to be a multiple parter, because I truly wish to be fair about my perceptions. The rest will probably be in September because I’m going to be away on a trip. But who knows I might get squirrelly.

Basically, I’m going to skim through the books and only review mentions of Egwene that give insight to her character/how she is perceived by those who personally know her or her own POV chapters.

As an aside, I would argue that unlikable female characters are important. More important than the Moiraine’s (who also had her fair share of arrogance), more important than the stern-yet-soft-hearted Nynaeve’s. They’re the most important in fiction because we so often don’t get to see them.

Female characters are forced to be likeable or be Amy Dunne. Even their grey areas are carefully negotiated so they aren’t written off as a bitch.

They don’t get to be heroes that you sincerely hope you never have to be stuck in an elevator with.

They don’t get the depth and variety because it makes people uncomfortable.

I find that annoying on a good day, on a bad day it makes me want to burn half my library. Modern writers have developed much more nuanced characters, and we’re beginning to see “new” types of female characters that really are just based on living, breathing, real people, but the backlash and fear of it is often there too.

It’s very easy for people to hate a female character. Just look at any popular series and go to reddit. If by some miracle there’s more than one female character in the main cast, chances are there are individuals complaining about her.

Hell, they’ll complain even if she’s the only female character.

(The phrase Mary Sue will appear often. If it does not make you want to boil with rage at the outright hypocrisy when compared with every mainstream male character I invite you to walk into the ocean.)

Lastly, before we begin, this is solely about Egwene. I can just as easily get into every single character in the series and how they also display negative characteristics but then we’re going to be here for ten years. I specifically said Egwene when I kicked the hive and I’m going to see how well my argument is supported by the source material.

So, Egwene.

Why does she get under my skin? How is she any more arrogant than the other characters in the series? What about her do I find troubling and ultimately dangerous? Am I biased because she was mean to my poor little meow meow trash son Gawyn?

Let us start with our first introduction to Egwene, through the eyes of a very, very smitten Rand. (To be fair, I would also be smitten. Just because I don’t particularly like her doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be half in love with her in ten minutes.) We know through later POV’s that Egwene has admitted that he is easy to manipulate so it is difficult not to allow that to color this transaction now, but let us try.

She begins by mimicking Nynaeve, a figure of authority, perhaps to see the effect it has. This is a trait she carries on throughout the series until she no longer needs to mimic and instead becomes the one who is mimicked.

But she soon shifts focus to staring at Rand, unsettling him because he has a crush the size of a solar system and it’s so obvious Perrin and Mat leave him to his fate. They flirt a little before Egwene reveals her now braided hair.

This is a very calculated move, and it feels planned, on her part. A test. But what is she testing?

Being a young, unmarried man in a small village that definitely pushes traditional values, Rand senses a trap here but it’s not what he’s expecting. I think this gives us a very key piece of information about Egwene early on. We think this is her Hint Hint moment, only for her to pull the rug out and mention not only does she want to become a Wisdom, a woman who seldom marries, but that she’ll likely have to travel to a different village in order to do so because Nynaeve isn’t going to retire any time soon. Egwene is telling us that she wants more.

Queue Belle song.

We also see some of her arrogance here. “She says I have a talent, that I can learn to listen to the wind. Nynaeve says not all Wisdoms can, even if they say they do.” When Rand fails to be suitably impressed, we get the very word used that I have mentioned already: dangerous.

Again, we’re seeing character traits I originally brought up: manipulative, arrogant, dangerous. She strikes me very much as the type of person who plans encounters in her head before they happen. That isn’t a bad thing - as the most socially anxious person ever I do this as well as a way to ease my anxiety and plan for everything I can think of - I am simply making an observation. This does not feel like a casual, unplanned conversation on Egwene’s part.

(Manipulative behavior in and of itself also isn’t inherently negative, most human interaction is based on it.)

Yet this moment isn’t Egwene gently letting Rand down either is it? Because Rand - puppy that he is - mentions he’d never see her again and she’s back to vaguely suggesting it’s not like he cares. Because we only see it from his perspective, it’s hard to know if she shuts down ultimately because the conversation didn’t go how she’d planned, or if her temper really did get the better of her.

Was she angry he didn’t demand they wed? That didn’t demand she not become a Wisdom? What was her ultimate goal here? Did she have one? Because of her age, I highly doubt Egwene is some crazy, master manipulator of Hannibal Lecter proportions. She’s not even on level 1 of that crazy train; I doubt she even knows where the station is. Not yet.

My perception here is she’s likely conflicted and confused about what she wants, and angry that Rand isn’t giving her anything to act on. He isn’t saying no, so she can’t dig her heels in. He isn’t offering to marry her so she can’t react to that either. He’s simply saying he’d never see her again, and what’s she to do with that? Egwene very much is a character who wants to act, and right now she has nothing to fuel her to action.

We do get the idea that Egwene is sensitive, perhaps overly so. Does she feel the limitations of the Two Rivers? How small their world is? Do their recent visitors make her feel equally small and therefore her fuse is shorter than normal?

I do want to mention here that I do not want to dismiss Egwene’s cleverness, or her own abilities when it comes to gleaning information from others. Yes, she’s eavesdropping in this moment, but even before she was reading Rand and the others like braille, which is a skill that should not be undervalued.

See the full post

68 notes - Posted July 9, 2022

#2

SHE’S MAKING ITTTTTTTT.

68 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I will not go on a random tangent about silhouettes in clothing. I will not go on a random tangent about silhouettes in clothing. I will not go on a random tangent about silhouettes in clothing. I will not go on-

71 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[loneisland]

ABOUT ME

CHARLOTTE (CHA FOR MOOTS)

Char/ Cha/ Charlotte, 19, struggling law student (undergrad [aka bachelor of law] lol, not law school) , Samantha Jones apologist, unfortunate brocedes witness and if not very obvious already, recovering shopaholic ! Welcome to my account where I do nothing except rant about god knows what— and write. Sometimes. Who knows

CHA LOVES

thrifting, hiking, autumn/ spring, cats, reading, writing when my keyboard cooperates, travelling, tea, lasagna, my dearest mooties, moodboards, plaids, naps, just sleep in general, my 3 different aesthetics that rotate every 3 weeks…

CHA HATES

condescendant people!! You are not better than anyone because your favorite artist has 3 monthly listeners! Tastes vary and that’s okay. beer, having a great plot in mind and then having no idea how to translate it on paper, uni, law, my white ipad case and keyboard that gets dirty super easily, my concealer that leaks everywhere…

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

WHY AM I BLOCKED?

If you fit the basic dni criteria, you will be blocked before you know it. I’m not arguing with people that have no common sense or respect for fundamental human rights!

I don’t mind minors interacting with my sfw content, but i will check and skim through likes and interactions on my nsfw content if there is any at all. Please don’t follow me if you’re a minor! It makes me uncomfortable + i reblog and interact w dc (= which is not tagged! I forget to most of the time and to be 100% transparent I doubt i even have a tag for that so better be safe than sorry and just don't follow me :) )

If your blog is empty, please don’t follow me. Empty blogs look like bots + i want to make sure I’m okay with having you interact with my content (ie age for my dc content/ reblogs)

Don’t spam-like (3 to 4 likes in a row). It clogs my notifications, and can result in me getting shadow-banned which is just not cool

don’t send hate/unwarranted criticism to other writers (esp not my moots!!) if i see you on my dash/ anywhere acting like an ass, idc if you haven’t interacted with my content, you’re blocked!

If you’re a previous moot, i might have blocked you because you made me uncomfortable, or we just didn’t interact. I hard block to discontinue the mutual! If you want to discontinue the mutual with me, pls do the same

Any and all disregard of these rules will result in a hard block!!

WHAT DO YOU WRITE?

À priori an sfw blog, but who knows?

I prefer storytelling over headcanons, but I love me some tiny cute little drabbles. If you see headcanons on here it’s probably a moment of weakness ignore it lolol

I don’t mind writing dark content! —> alcohol, drugs, gore (as in blood, murder and all that good stuff), cheating, profanity, death, abuse and illness are all things im okay with writing about (but mostly not okay with irl, of course).

This is a bllk and tokyo revengers (specifically bonten timeline) centric blog, but I’m eventually open to mha, jjk and haikyuu as well

I do take requests, thirsts and suggestions (see requests section)

WHAT ARE YOUR RULES FOR YOUR INBOX?

I think of this as a given, but please please no rants in the inbox… I understand people struggle and need to talk, but this is not the place to do it! That being said, I do sincerely hope everything works out for you! (This does not apply to my moots :) if any of my beloved mooties are feeling down, my dms are always open!)

i don’t write specific readers (anything pertaining to ethnicity/ appearance, eg) chubby! reader, hispanic! reader etc..) as you are free to imagine the reader however you like + the reader is by default always fem. I do not write male readers, but will tag as gn! reader occasionally if it fits.

even though I prefer storytelling over headcanons, you’re still welcome to ask me about the latter! Don’t be shy :)

When requesting, just send me a little prompt or idea of what you’re thinking about, no ultra specific scenarios pls…

When requests are closed, you can still send asks, thirsts, or random little ideas, i just won’t expand on them too much :)

if you’re not planning on turning off anon but are planning on sending multiple asks, you’re welcome to assign yourself an emoji so i can recognise you!

And last but not least, as you can expect from a law student or a uni student period, I am booked & busy like you probably can’t even imagine 🤓 (+ bonus this semester is ruthless so whatever free time I have is spent outside huhu) so I might take time, and I primarily use this blog as a main, meaning I rant and have a bunch of random posts which are mostly not writing!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN 🤓

MY TAGS

#( 📄 ) — newsletter = asks

#( 🖋️ ) — article = writing

#( 🔐 ) — co-author : moot = mutuals

#( 🧩 ) — games = self explanatory

#( 🔖 ) — reblogs [: dark content ahead!] = self explanatory

#( 📮 ) — recommendations = self explanatory

#( ✏️ ) — rambles = random posts

Don’t hesitate to leave a message in the inbox, I don’t bite luvies + if you want to be on the tag list for a series, send an ask!

This blog is still very new (as of June 18th 2024) and under construction 🚧

[word-wytch]

I just wanted to say that where I do love your story and have left feedback on other chapters, I do think making your readers feel bad for not reblogging and almost demanding people comment on it might actually take away the joy we get from your writing.

Your chapters get a lot of love and I understand wanting as many people as possible to see it, but that's not really our job. You have people asking to be tagged when you update and I see many of the same people leaving love on your story over and over, not to mention quite a few reblogs and even more likes. You can't expect people to share it with others, it might be a very personal thing to them.

I know this comes off as mean and I'm sorry, you truly don't deserve that, but it's supposed to be about loving your craft and not a popularity contest as you've said.

But how much more engagement do you need to feel fulfilled by a story you should love even without the many fans you already have?

Thank you for reaching out to me and voicing your feelings.

I understand where you are coming from with this and why it may seem that way to you. I certainly don't expect that every person who reads my story reblog it and leave comment.

I am deeply grateful for the level of engagement I get with each chapter that I post. I understand that I am actually quite lucky to have this many people who consistently come back to read and share and that aspect is absolutely not lost on me.

However, a lot of times you don't get what you don't ask for, and if I didn't take a moment to remind people that their engagement means the world to me, I really feel like I would not have gotten the level of engagement that I do.

Is simply asking and reminding people to engage really making people feel bad if they don't? I would actually say their feelings about their own inaction are their responsibility, not mine.

When I read stories, I always try to give people the sort of feedback that I would appreciate myself. I understand that not everyone is a writer so perhaps they don't understand how important engagement is, which is why I always like to remind them.

I really don't feel like it's too much to ask for somebody to leave a brief comment or hit reblog on something that I spend hours and hours pouring my heart into each week.

If commenting and sharing is something that takes the fun out of reading my story for you, then don't do it, and by all means please don't feel bad about it. I want you to enjoy what I've created, I mean that sincerely.

But you need to understand that if everyone behaved like that then it would get no engagement at all and many other people who could potentially see my story and love it just as much as you do would be robbed of that opportunity because it was not shared. Also, I would have no idea what people thought and be lead to believe that people really don't like it enough to be moved to leave feedback.

Do you see where I am getting at with this?

Thank you for your perspective, I hope that you can see mine.

[phantajam]

Hey. How are you all holding up?

I came to this tag having never seen Stranger Things, specifically for the purpose of trying to determine whether Byler would be queerbait (How ironic). I ended up scrolling this tag every day for over a week, in awe at the sense of community you guys had. Never before have I seen a tag with over 20k people have such tight-knit energy, be so in sync with each other. I knew from the start that it was not going to end well, but I wanted it desperately for you guys anyway; I dared to hope that somehow your sheer willpower could somehow make everything come true. 

Queerbait is a slap in the face. To good writing, to the fans of the show, to the thousands of queer kids who just spent their last week of pride month worrying “is my comfort show lying to me?”. To all the people who took to calling themselves Delusional because lgbtq+ representation in a show that’s not marketed explicitly as queer media is that fucking rare. To all of you. 

My heart breaks for all the young queer people who have been in Will Byers’ exact position and are already scared of what will happen and who they’ll lose because of something they can’t control,, and just, for once, wanted to see someone like them get a happy ending. I’ve been there too, so I’ll say what the ST writers couldn’t: You are loved. You are deserving of comfort and happiness. There is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with being queer; Its not a mistake and you are not a mistake. Being queer fucking sucks sometimes, but it is not something you have to go through alone. There are people who will support you, no matter how small your town or straight your friends are. There is a happy ending out there for you, no matter what anyone says. 

I am incredibly disappointed, but not at all surprised. Once again, thanks to Netflix, this is the price we pay for being queer and daring to consume media that isn’t ‘made for us’.

My DMs are open if anyone needs to talk. I am more than okay with listening. Or, if it makes you more comfortable, you can talk it out in the reblogs and replies to this post. I want to make sure every single person who needs it right now is heard. 

I am sincerely sorry for you all. 

[netherite-sword]

Hello, & welcome back to Hermitcraft!

Hi! I’m Dawn! Thanks for dropping in! 

This blog is very primarily focused on boosting fan content centered around Hermitcraft, with the occasional pinch of general Minecraft content! I aim to make this blog enjoyable to scroll & to use it to uplift artists/writers/etc big & small! Feel free to like or reblog spam — it’s great to see, actually!

Tag System:

⇛ #not hc: Any posts unrelated to Hermitcraft, in case you want to filter those out. These are rare.

⇛ #self post: Includes all posts I myself have made!

⇛ #my art: Includes any of my own silly fan content!

⇛ #ask a sword: Collection of all asks I receive! I love getting asks anytime, about (most) any topic, and do my best to answer whenever I can!

⇛ #cw : I do my best to remember to tag blood, gun imagery, & cursing for filtering purposes! I avoid reblogging heavy gore. I also curse in my tags on occasion. Feel free to point out if I miss something!

Disclaimers:

⇛ I know this blog was known for reblogging a lot of posts & with lengthy tags, and apologize sincerely that I cannot do so these days. I am far busier than I was at the time, & even then I would spend multiple hours every day writing tags just to keep up. If I reblogged your work without tags, I just didn't have energy to write anything but wanted to make sure it was seen anyways! Anything I reblog is something I think is fantastic and worth praise.

⇛ I do avoid reblogging ship content, not because I have any problem with it — I just know it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and want this blog to be as widely-applicable as possible! Remember to show others respect.

Thanks again for coming by the blog! Hope you enjoy your stay. 💛

[zanniscaramouche]

MAY WE LIFT EACH OTHER UP

Thank you @phd-mama for such a wonderful idea! Sadly the month got away from me so I could not spread love all month long (although I did try to power read some shorter fics and serial-comment as much as I could!) and I hope you have all enjoyed the quotes from fics @allwaswell16 is reading as much as I have! 

Inspired by that, I’m handing out flowers to every person who’s ever reblogged, liked, commented or kudos on a fic or fic post. A flower for those who leave nice things in the tags and those who interact with wip posts to encourage the process. You’re all a necessary part of this whacky fanfiction machine. Here are some people who are major factors in my productivity levels, and people who inspire me to keep creating and have fun 💕

🌻 @mercurial-madhouse  My lovely beta, supremely smart and bursting with creativity. You inspire me every day and I adore working with you. You bring so much balance and structure to my work, the fine-toothed comb that really picks things out and makes them shine. Somedays(most days) I swear you can read my mind. Thank you for every second of effort you’ve put into making my stories come to life! Your own writing inspires me to be more imaginative and unafraid to dip into the niche. 

🌸 @lululawrence Such a wonderful human! You give off such great energy, I am in awe of how passionately and avidly you commit yourself to creating fanworks for the sheer pleasure of doing so. You remind me to write fic for myself first and foremost, everything else is second. No pairing is rare enough. 

🌹 @kingsofeverything The absolute mammoth list of your discography is awe inducing. Truly I can only hope to have the pleasure of reading them all. Your variety is so inspiring to me to try new and different things. The way you portray the human condition is phenomenal. A real inspiration all around.

🌼 @haztobegood An all around beautiful person. Love sprinting with you and seeing your new works being posted, reading your fics is always a good time! The comments you leave are so kind, thank you!

🌷 @theisolatedlily LILY! A thousand flowers for you, the most supportive commenter out there! You go ABOVE & BEYOND to another galaxy level, I swear. The feedback you provide is instrumental to my continued creativity and desire to pursue writing. Thank you x300million. Your brilliant usage of a large vocabulary and your love of grotesque detail truly inspires me to dig deeper while writing.

🌺 @soldouthaz A literal angel! Continuously taking the initiative to help others in the fandom (betabase was such a good idea!) and so kind to everyone. One of the first writers I read when I started in the fandom and I am so glad because you hooked me in to stay! 

🌻 @falsegoodnight Another of the first authors I first started reading in this fandom. Your hard work and dedication is so inspiring to me, and reading your fics is always a lovely experience that lets me truly escape. Thank you for being so wonderful! 

🌸 @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed WOW! You are continuously encouraging me to work on my wips via tag challenges. I havent responded to them in awhile(life has me by the throat) but know that those tags are VITAL to my sustained writing effort, and I eagerly await tagging you multiple times a week once more. Thank you for always thinking of me to tag! 

🌹 @fallinglikethis A heart of gold! A true darling, thank you for your recording of my work, it was a true experience to hear. I cherish every comment and interaction between us! 

🌼 @nevergooutofstiles Seriously where do I start! You are a serial commenter and it’s fabulous. I don’t think you can truly grasp how much each word in every comment you leave means to me, both those on the fic itself and the tags left in the fic posts. Thank you for your continued support! 

🌷 @londonfoginacup Such a sweetie! I am so humbled by your lovely words and I am so pleased to know you enjoyed some of my work. Thank you for all that you’ve done for the fandom, as well as the support you’ve personally shown me in tags and comments. 

🌺 @louandhazaf Lovely! Through your own work you inspire me to keep writing rarepairs, and I can’t wait to read more of your stories to give back on all the comments you’ve left on my stories. Thank you for being wonderful! 

🌻 @disgruntledkittenface Astonishing! Tagging you back and forth keeps me going, I can’t get enough of seeing your upcoming works and the motivation to create new ‘last lines’ and ‘sunday snippets’ is a much needed boost. Thank you for thinking of me when tagging!  

🌸 @brightgolden  My very first beta! You helped me so much on my first few beta experiences and are such a treat to work with. Thank you for your continued support, I am so proud to see you writing now and can NOT wait to read your new fics! 

🌹 @homosociallyyours Always so kind in the tags! Thank you for reading and commenting and boosting my works. You’re such a wonderful person to follow too!

🌼 @larryyouknow Sincerely wonderful! Always checking in and sharing your enthusiasm for my work. Thank you so much for getting in touch, I adore talking with you! 

🌷 @oldbay-on-apples Sincere and sweet, thank you so much for you feedback and support! 

🌺 @runaway-train-works Thank you for the love of rarepairs! It keeps me going on works that are truly passion projects. Your comments are so thoughtful and intelligent! 

🌻 @bluecolouredlou So lovely to hear from you and to see your interest in my works! Thank you for being so kind and encouraging.

🌸 @allwaswell16 A goddess! Wow there are few words I haven’t used yet, but you are all of them: lovely, sweet, kind, sincere, beautiful! You are constantly creating, be it fic, rec lists, or monthly round ups. A true legend. Thank you for all that you do, and thanks for your support! 

🌹 @solvetheminourdreams Cutie! I love seeing your works pop up, and I am so eager to devour them soon. Thankful for the encouragement and tags in fun little challenges. 

🌼 @harrystinyshorts So much fun tagging you back and forth and reading what you’re working on. Thank you for thinking of me! 

🌷 @makethebestofwhatyouget​ Hello darling! You are a ball of energy and passion, a real shining light! The excitement you exude is addicting. Thank you for sharing it with me and always pushing me to keep going! 

xx 🌺+ SOOOO many more that I couldn’t find the tumblr accounts for or sincerely forgot in my overtired daze. This month has kicked my butt, as my vague absence may have implied, and I miss interacting with everyone. With another season of work coming to an end, I can finally settle down and commit myself to what truly brings me joy: fanfic! In the next month I hope to read all of the beautiful fics that have come out recently (read: the past 7 months) while also fulfilling all of the fic festivals I seem to have signed up for 😅

Here’s to a wonderful summer & beyond for all of us!