#find people who really wanna write with you so i appreciate y'all! thank you for giving nancy some love!

[rebelcliche-archived]

okay! i’m gonna write today! my adhd is not going to get the better of me! i am not going to reblog anymore memes until i get stuff done! 

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Period Cramps (James Wilson x reader)

Summary: dealing with periods isn't so bad with Wilson as your boyfriend

Warnings: periods/menstrual cycles mentioned, reader is completely gender neutral besides the implication of them being afab (because women aren't the only people who get periods plus it's my fic and I'm transmasc so deal with it), basically just a bunch of fluff

A/N: this isn't long at all but I wanted to write something fluffy while my cramps slowly kill me (joking..for the most part) and I hate that the title is are so unoriginal but honestly who cares. Also the reader makes a playful comment about Wilson using menstrual products that could either be taken in jest or be implied trans Wilson (which was my intent when writing it but really it's up to you)

"I brought you a heating pad and some painkillers," Wilson's soft voice called out as he entered the bedroom, setting them both on the nightstand beside you. "How's the pain?" His brow was bunched together in concern as he watched you shift around on the bed, trying to get in a position that was at least somewhat comfortable.

"It's not so bad that I feel like I'm dying, if that's what you mean." Your voice came out as a discontented grumble from the pile of blankets where you laid bundled up. "But I appreciate this, thanks." You took two painkillers with some water before grabbing the heating pad and placing it on your lower abdomen. "Ahh, that's much better."

He didn't say anything, but you noticed how the corners of his lips turned upwards into a slight smile while he got next to you on the bed. You never had to make a request for cuddles from him whenever you were hurt or didn't feel good, as they were freely given.

"I'm sure you've had plenty of experience dealing with these kind of things before," you commented playfully as you leaned into him, which he responded to by moving in closer. "You probably keep your bathroom stocked with plenty of menstrual products in case you have guests who come over and need them. And of course there's some in there for yourself."

At that, he let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "You're absolutely right, of course. What kind of host would I be if I didn't?"

"A bad one," you said with mock seriousness before letting out a giggle. The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke again. "Do you know what would make this moment even better?"

Almost as if on cue, he pulled out your favorite type of candy from his pocket and handed it to you. A visibly gleeful expression lit up your face as you snatched it from him and tore open the packaging, happily devouring the cavity inducing treat.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," you managed to get out between chews, giving him a look full of adoration.

He simply smiled and replied, "I'm glad you think so."

End notes: y'all have no idea how long it took me to find a gif I actually liked for this I almost gave up

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama

[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)! 💗🧣💗

*

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[psychologicalwarclaire]

How does one organize thoughts, piece together plotlines, fill in the gaps, lay everything down in a specific order that makes sense to the narrative, and more importantly COMMITS AND GETS PAST THE PLANNING STAGE

(rhetorical question haha...unless)

Writers amaze me. Idk how y'all make novel length stories out of putting together words.

Don't mind me, Im just feeling appreciative for the people who write. Thank you, Curly 💜

Well hello Pixel! I know this is a rhetorical ask, but let me impart some of my wise wisdoms upon ye.

Write down all the things you WANT to include. From there it might be a little easier to figure out the narrative order in which they happen (ex. I can't torture Leo in his cell with Viper yet because he hasn't refused to fight yet). It should be vague and gap-filled. Like a skeleton!

The easiest way to start (for me, at least) is at the beginning. In order to get to the next thing I want to happen, I think of the best and most exciting, effective, painful, or dramatic way to get there, which lets me string the pieces together.

If you're having trouble thinking of how to string the gaps together, IT'S OKAY TO TIME SKIP. IT REALLY IS. If you don't want to write (or draw, because comics, you know?) the next part because it's boring, then either find a way to make it interesting to you, or SKIP IT. Travel times are especially rough for me, so I just hard cut to the destination.

Also if you're having trouble stringing the gaps together, skip ahead. I got stuck on chapter 16, so I worked on 17 and 18 until I figured out what to do. If course, this doesn't work for everyone. My dear writer friend absolutely CANNOT write out of order. But I, personally, find if you're excited to write (or draw, because comics) something in the future DO IT NOW before you lose your excitement for the scene. When you end up there chronologically, there will be some things you have to fix but you can still use the bones of the scene or certain electric lines to help rebuild the scene even better.

Honestly, Pixel? In order to make it past the planning stage, you just have to jump in.

The DAY I texted DrSmer and said "hey I actually wanna write this idea I've been bouncing around for the past week" I sat down and wrote an outline. And then, because I had more time, I thought "What the heck, I can start writing the first scene."

"Later" is the project killer.

Thanks for giving me the chance to ramble, dear Pixel! I love getting to talk about behind the scenes stuff, writing processes, and all that jazz. Hope this was helpful?

[nochangeintheplan]

hiii! just want to say how happy I was to find your page. it seems like everywhere on the internet (except tumblr- but even then I've seen some hate) DESPISES yakuza 3.. like they won't even acknowledge the good the game has. is it the best? no! but they would sooner brush off the plot the game set up and the amazing characters to say it's ass and looks bad, just say ur going through a quality drop from yakuza kiwami 2. yakuza 3 brought us MORNING GLORY. THE PLACE THAT IS KIRYUS MAIN MOTIVE?? like it's the whole reason kiryu went into hiding.. it set up the future games. (also humanized him soo much but that's a topic for another day) THEN I CAME ACROSS THIS PAGE! your love for this game clearly shows through your introspective art and beautiful ask blog! I spent ab a whole night going through ur page gushing bc 'omg someone who writes mine and daigo correctly! and doesnt make mine's ONLY character trait about being obsessed with daigo!!' keep up the amazing work!! I also look forward to seeing your other works that are unrelated to yakuza! have a wonderful day!

(In case u see this ask again somewhere else I sent it to the wrong blog at first LOL)

Thank you so much for sendin in your ask! I'm really glad you've enjoyed the stuff I've been throwing up on the internet about my favorite little guys.

And yeah, for a good while in most fan spaces people had a pretty big dislike for Y3, and I think a lot of it just comes down to fandom bandwagoning dissuading people from playing it or giving it much of a chance. Right now actually I've seen somewhat of a shift in some spaces where suddenly 3 is underrated and people are apparently (?) dogging on 2 where it used to be considered peak. It's all cyclical really, but I'm glad when 3 gets the attention I feel it deserves.

I do understand where people's dislike comes from honestly, but it is definitely my personal favorite! For all its faults, I think it has some of the strongest character moments of the games, personal stakes, and drama, with stellar animation that more than makes up for the older graphics that might put some people off. And of course, Mine lmao. I can't say how right I am in how I characterize Mine and Daigo since I'm sure I fall pretty short of even my own standards of how I see them (and am guilty of simplifying them because its funny lm ao), but I'm happy folks like my take on the guys! I have A LOT OF THOUGHTS on these dudes (obviously) which I'd love to write up sometime. I have an ask about my Minedai HCs where I will probably dump it, but that and a lot of asks have been put on the backburner until I get the time to address them all to the extent I want to.

If you wanna look at my non-yakuza stuff, I have a main which I basically do not use; but it does exist!

Anyway, thank you again for writing in! I really do appreciate it a ton, and I love all the lil things y'all send me.

[turtlecleric]

waddles into your inbox and does the Nicholas Cage steepling hand meme

Ok friend, I gotta bone to pick with you. Respectfully of course.

Now I ain't much of an 18+ reader, not really my gig ya know. I ain't too comfortable with it, so you're probably asking then why are you reading it?

Well friend, let me tell you. Because it makes me think. Your stories specifically. Many a times I've had to put my phone down and I've been caught by my roommates with the most intense look on my face.

My friend once said that something is considered art if it makes you feel something, anything, whether good or bad. And let me tell ya Miss Cleric, you've certainly got me feeling somethings.

You certainly have a gift with words as well as speed (like dang sis how you write so fast so much?!) and you use them most expertly, and to that I tip my hat at you.

I hope that you take care of yourself and remember that you are valued and appreciated just as you are ok honey? You don't have to do anything to work or earn love. You are worth loving and experiencing simply by existing mkay? 🧡🙌🏼

Also, if and only if you're feeling up for it just because I need some closure, can we get a part 2 of the recent Rise Raph snippet? I really wanna see how Raph responds when he finds out what happens and how it goes down when Y/N gets out of surgery. Like I would love to see the recovery trauma of having to talk to someone close to you, even when it wasn't necessarily their fault

Or I’d love to see your twist on using hypnotism, but if and only if you’re feeling up to it. If not and if this is too forward then I totally understand.

Just make sure to take care of yourself ok? 🧡

Oh my goodness gracious y'all are really spoiling me with these sweet messages!! I'm so so so glad people are enjoying what I'm putting out there!! Thank you for reading and for being so kind 😭 I'm endlessly flattered that people think my writing is good. And the fact that I can make you think, make you feel things... man. That's like. The dream. To do that with my writing. So hearing that I'm succeeding - that makes me really, really happy. Thank you smmmm 🥰

I don't feel like I write very much or very fast tbh 😅 took me about a week to write I Know Now, for example, which wasn't even a full 3K. But uh. Being obsessed with the turtles and getting ideas that I really like does help a lot I won't lie lol

I'm trying my best to take care of myself! Not always succeeding but trying at least! You're so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 thank you. And this is true for you as well!! We're all worthy of love 💕 even when it doesn't feel like it. (Pounding this into my own head)

Ahhh Raphie boy. I really put him and reader through it. I would like to maybe write a second part, but if I do, it won't be for a while. It's such a hard topic, and it took me hours upon hours to write part one. It is on my mind though, to write a part two. When I get the time, energy, motivation, etc. And oh my GOD. Hypnotism........... Donnie recording Hypno's power and figuring out how to tweak that and use it in the bedroom... or even some kind of dead dove fic involving hypnotism... oh I would love to tackle that... [stares at my current pile of WIPs and winces] at some point...

Side bar- When did I become the type of person who has multiple WIPs??? I can't believe this. [Points at turtle fam] This is all YOUR fault!! /j /lh

I will try to take care of myself!! I hope you do the same!! Thank you again for the sweet ask. I will definitely be thinking about a part two for Raph. If you want, you can subscribe to that fic on my ao3 so that you're notified if I post a part 2! (Same username - I just made it this weekend! Haven't finished putting everything up yet, but What Did I Do? is already there!)

Anyway!! Thanks again!! 😊💕 I hope you're having a good night!!

[brainmaniaman]

That julianXreader fic was absolutely amazing. Please write more JulianXreader fics or headcannons. There is so little of it in the fandom 🥺

Gosh, thank you so much. I really appreciate it. I feel similarly. I'm more of a Ricky guy and all I saw was one (very glorious) headcannon post. I've had this idea kind of swimming around in my head for a while but I haven't had anywhere to put it. This one's for you, bud!

Sometimes I think about a world in which Julian actually went to community college. In later seasons, I found myself disappointed with Netflix's continuation. To me, Seasons 1-7 are the only cannon ones. Though... I think my favorite seasons are about seasons 1-4ish. So let's talk about an AU where Julian went to community college

Julian at community college would be great. I think he'd be overwhelmed because he's no longer the smartest guy around. I mean, there's not much competition in the Trailer Park, aside from Bubbles, but I always thought that Julian saw Bubbles more as an equal.

I just know that Julian gets in trouble with campus police for carrying around that fucking rum and coke. They tell him he can't do that but he does it anyways. Eventually, he's just kind of known as that guy that carries around a rum and coke. Julian is nice enough so people just kind of let him do his own thing.

Maybe you meet Julian because you have a group project for Intro to Marketing and Media 101 or some shit like that? Like, the project is doing a commercial for a specific product and you're graded on the effectiveness or the product. It's a simple project you would typically find in a basic community college class.

I will say, Julian probably doesn't like you to begin with. I mean, you're probably smarter than him. Julian is the kind of guy to take people being smarter than him as a personal insult. Plus, he's used to being the smartest guy around. I think he'd be friendly, but he'd probably kind of condescend and try to take control of the entire fucking project.

You had other group members but they couldn't fucking stand Julian taking charge of the fucking project and they got the professor to let them split into another group. If you knew that was possible, you would have too - but now you and Julian are stuck together.

Julian has shit ideas, I'm sorry. They're not fun. He just wants to do a basic info-mmerical but you think that's super lazy. You wanna do something fun and pretend to sell something creative. He hates the idea and just wants an A. He's good at marketing... he's just not good at marketing the typical kind of stuff.

The two of you mostly meet on-campus because you live with your parents (to save money) and he doesn't want to bring you around the park because he's kind of embarrassed. Like yeah he loves his park family but also he'd be horrified if J-Roc asked you to star in an amateur porn film or if you had to talk to Ricky on a day where he was particularly belligerent.

Sexual tension. Sexual tension. Sexual tension. I like to think that Julian has this nasty habit of correcting literally any grammatical mistake you make because he feels like it makes him smart. That shit drives you crazy and god you just want to shake the fuck out of him.

But I don't know, there's just something about Julian you like you can't quite place your finger on.

I kind of like the idea that you have a crazy fucking ex-boyfriend who thinks he's big and bad and follows you around? You didn't tell Julian about it because you didn't believe it was his business, it wasn't like you were even friends

But I think what really brings y'all from just being group partners to being friends is that one day your ex confronts you as you're leaving class and is just straight harassing you. Your ex is a big strong guy, nobody is stepping in to even call campus police and you feel so alone.

You may kind of piss Julian off but he really does like you and respect you, plus he hates seeing a lady getting accosted. He's a criminal but he favors himself to be a gentleman.

Julian confronts your ex and it breaks out into basically a pissing match, toe to toe. I like to think your ex threatens Julian, but Julian is kind of a crazy fuck when you think about it. I mean he did cock the gun Cyrus was holding and put it to his head, so this feels like nothing.

"You think you're a big tough guy picking on a lady, huh? I bet you feel so strong when you make her feel so scared, right? Make you feel real good? Like you're getting revenge. If you're gonna come toe-to-toe with someone, square up with someone you're own size. Come on, hit me. Hit me. I said hit me. That's right, that's what I thought, you're nothing but a fucking punk. Where I come from, we chew posers like you up and spit them out. Next time you come around her, you better think twice."

You're so grateful that Julian stood up for you but also that was kind of hot . . . I think that's where your attraction starts, but you thank him for his help.

The two of you get closer. I mean you two are on the phone fucking 24/7 late at night talking about things that aren't class related. You've got him asking shit like...

"Where are you from? Oh, I've never been there. What's it like?" "Do you know any good food places around campus?" "What's your favorite food?" "Are you a liquor gal or a wine gal?" Bubbles and Ricky definitely take the piss out of him, but he keeps you far away from the park lol.

I mean he comes over to work on the project and your family is home and he unintentionally meets your parents. Your dad isn't too keen on him but your mom is almost obsessed. He's such a nice guy and all of that. It makes him feel guilty because he really doesn't truly consider himself all that nice of a guy.

I just love the idea that he sneaks you into the park at like 2am because he knows everyone is asleep and he doesn't want anyone knowing what he's up to. He sneaks you in and out. Usually you two are extra quiet because Ricky lives in his fucking front yard, but or the most part you two are very hush-hush. He says it's because he wants to be able to work on the project without any distractions which is actually a valid excuse considering how fucking crazy his neighbors are.

Except you two definitely don't work on the project that night.

You're not a big fan of the imbalance, as you feel like you've met all of his family and you've met no-one close to him.

At some point, Ricky catches you sneaking in at the middle of the night.

"What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to break into Julian's house? Julian! JULIAN! SOMEONE IS TRYING TO BREAK INTO YOUR HOUSE." It's a fuck-fest because Ricky is fucking yelling and screaming.

Julian tries to get Ricky to shut the fuck up but by now, the entire park is out trying to see what the fuck is going on.

"Holy fuck Julian why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend? She's hot. I would've covered for you if you just would've let me know!"

I like to think that you do get some shit from idiots in the park and some uncomfortable questions, but you grow to really enjoy the people there - even Lahey, who is endearing in his own drunken way.

You end up using all of the people in the park for your little commercial and that shit is so funny. You're probably selling something insane, like tickets to see The Green Bastard or something like that. It's actually a lot of fun and really endearing, though it was a fucking hassle to make.

I don't know, I just love the idea of Julian meeting someone from community college and being fucking happy for once because that man is always fucking miserable

Bonus content: I think Julian's love-language is touch. I like to think he's subtle about it, like placing a hand on your shoulder. He's the kind of guy to hug you the moment the door closes behind you.

Julian doesn't say I love you first because of trauma and stuff, but when you tell him that you love him the dude tries to hide just how fucking ecstatic he is but definitely showers you in affectionate kisses.

I like to think that you move in with him.

Of course, there's drama surrounding his dope operation when you find out that he grows and sells on the side, it actually really upsets you, but this is a happy post and I'll save the angst for later.

Hopefully that kind of gives you a Julian fix. I love story-based AUs because I can give general ideas and people can kind of come up with their own little plot points in between.

[candyskiez]

20 questions for fic authors

thank you to my lovely mutual @zyrafowe-sny for the tag! for my no pressure tagging, only if you wanna, @phantasmaltrain @thousand-winters @kolapon @msbadatnamingthings @violet-prism-creatively @sir-ballister-boldheart @bleezebrew and anyone else who wants to join in!

how many fics do you have on ao3?

18! most are shoved to pseuds because I do not want them associated w me anymore but I don't want to make it so people who like the fics can't find more by me because that shit drives me insane.

what's your total ao3 word count?

29,876

what fandoms do you write for?

the owl house, mostly. I'm planning on expanding to more, writing for several more fandoms now in fact. but I mean if you've seen one of my fics somewhere, it's probably from owl house.

what are your top five fics by kudos?

an open book (with a torn out page) is very much in the lead still, stubborn is in second, loyal is in third, eggwart salad in fourth, and identity in fifth. I do think most of that is the toh fics being that popular because hunter + they were made during the show being super !!!!!, so when I post more fics the rating will probably change more. one day I'll actually finish more lmao I'm sorry guys I'm busy as shit.

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I try to! because when I'm commenting I'm always worried I'm being annoying andbtoo much about the fic and bugging the author so me replying is me trying to say "hey!!! I really appreciate this!!!!", although sometimes I just don't know what to say and ghost (sorry!!!!)

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ohhh god I gotta talk about my old fics great /lh, cold probably. I think it's the only FULLY hurt no comfort I've ever written? it and settle for a ghost. I'm leaning towards cold because

A. I hate settle for a ghost /lh

B. cold is literally about Pure Pain. there is no silver lining there is no "this character in canon gets a happy ending", it's just "this character is gonna die horribly in a few days, here's some angst"

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, eggwart salad is entirely father son fluff. it's just darius loving his weird son for several thousand words. but if we're talking fics with some sadder parts with a happier ending, probably happy new year, dear, or maybbbeeeee roses and lilies? I used to write a lot of that shit. man I need to write more of it.

do you get hate on fics?

not yet

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

none published no. that is all I'm gonna say and y'all can mind your business on everything else /lh

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

nope! never been my forte besides shit like in the setting of another media. ex, what if [x] character was a pokemon trainer and that shit.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge but they've probably been gobbled up by an ai at least once 😔

have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

have you ever cowriten a fic before?

that depends on your definition! I've done a lot of things where me and a group will brainstorm an idea together, make into a fully fledged thing and we'll all suggest dialogue. some of those conversations have become fics, sometimes even with my dialogue and a lot of my ideas. so I guess...yeah, I've cowriten fics! if that's your definition.

what's your all-time favorite ship?

hmmm, I'm not as much of a shipper anymore. but I did love twohina back in 2020-2021-2022 (ifykyk) and I do have a soft spot for raeda. goldenheart is currently blorboing though and I do love huntlow. and oh I love zukka! I don't know if I really have a favorite ship, though.

what's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I really really really REALLY wanna finish dadrius week and am trying so hard. but ohhh my god my life is on fucking fire lately July just kind of exploded and it's been downhill from there lmao. but I'm slowly getting back up again so hopefully I do finish it. sorry gang my life's been on fire. as y'all have probably noticed lmao.

what's your writing strengths?

INTROSPECTION!!!! ohhh my god. character studies I like to think I can do pretty well! character analysis is my special interest. give me a character and I will find a way to give them depth so help me god.

what's your writing weaknesses?

ohhhh god. describing actions. like hand motions, fight motions, movements, expressions, visual shit, or anything descriptive, or just! shit like that! it's insane!! I don't fuckin know how!!!!

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have no fucking clue how and considering I want to write more luz stuff I really should learn. the problem is I Have No Fucking Clue How. do you see the issue.

first fandom you wrote for?

warriors, not on ao3. first fandom bb.

favorite fic you've ever written?

open book! I think it holds up pretty well, although I do wish I focused more on how the secret effects gus. one day I really want to sit down and write something with him , I just need to get in his head more. I do think my hunter characterization was pretty good there? I think? I hope so. I need to work on him again, he's tough to nail down.

thanks for the tag, and I hope you enjoyed seeing my thoughts :D

for anyone curious, my ao3 is here! mind the spoilers!

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

I was the one who lastly (probably) requested a bts fake text au and it took me so long to answer because I can't check on tumblr a lot but I just wanted to say that I'm kind of sad that you have to resort to such bureaucratic things for this one thing that you do that makes you happy and that you share with us for free, but I'm also happy that you'll do that and also to hear that you have people that not only validate you but that encourages you to keep doing what you like. Idk why I have been thinking about how you expressed yourself and how said this really made you sad... I guess I'm worried and I don't know what to do about so I will just say what I can think of saying: you are really appreciated. I just wanted to come back here and say that your talent makes a lot of people happy and I guess that's kind of the call for everyone that creates anything or maybe it's just because y'all want to express yourselves and just want to share it bc your proud lol idk. I wanted to say that you must be a delight to be around way before this whole thing. I'm pretty sure I said it before but I have shitty memory: you are so funny and witty. I'm so glad you ever chose to share a piece of yourself with us and I hope that these things that shakes writers will not be responsible for making you give up on writing. I'm glad you have a support network.

(I have, like, really shitty, pathological even, memory. so please, forgive me if I'm annoying —as in repetitive, wordy or idek — bc it probably it's related to that lol)

This omg 🥺 you're so sweet. I've read this like 10 times already and it just makes me so happy to see 🥺

I genuinely can't wait to continue to share my work with everyone. And I want to thank everyone for being patient with me while I work through this 🥺

And I wanna thank you for popping back in and saying all of this 🥺 because it really means a lot to me. I appreciate you and love you so very much 🥺💕🥺💕

And don't worry about your memory or being too wordy. I'll never find it annoying. It's endearing and makes you you 🥺💕🥺💕

[tabithatwo]

I'm very happy with the rambling answer for what it's worth 😭 MORE people should be prone to rambling TBH. What are we on earth for if not to ramble like I'm so serious.... But anyway. I wish I could write even half as good as you. And I say this with admiration like I hope that vibe is correctly communicated. As someone who's read not all but most of your fics esp the ongoing ones (abmb and 🐝charmer) I think your prowess as a writer has really grown. It's all about finding a balance between, like, the dialogue, the flow of said dialogue, the introspection of a character's mind that really only a written work can give you, and the description of wtf is going on. And this first chapter just HIT for some reason. I don't mean to make it seem like the other fics are lesser, it was just so noticeable to me that the quality of the actual writing seemed to have increased. But it still felt like YOU. Your writer's voice. Just more refined?? Idk. It really felt like you had found that sweet spot, that balance, more so than in the other fics. BUT I STILL READ THEM AND I LOVE THEM DEARLY! This is meant to be a compliment fr fr lol. And sorry if it's unnecessary but even though it's -just fanfiction- it's not Just Fanfiction . To Me . Because fanfiction is kind of everything isn't it. But not all of it is created equal and I think it should be ok to say that? I critique what I love and some of my favorite written works I've ever read have been fanfics. And just because something isn't That good doesn't mean that it doesn't deserve to shared y'know. I love the idea of kids writing things for other kids and so on and then we get older and older and more skilled. It's so cool and so beautiful. This has really gotten away from me lol.... Bet you did not expect yet another ask huh !!!! Fanfiction means so much to me and it wouldn't exist without the AUTHORS I think y'all are doing gods work. So thank you. I'm excited to watch you improve, for as long as you choose to share your stories with us. You don't have to respond of course, as always, but if you do read this I hope it made sense??

The vibe is so clearly communicated and I appreciate this SO MUCH like seriously the fact that anyone is even…THINKING about my writing like this is so beyond amazing to me and an honor fr. This feedback is endlessly cool because I never thought anyone would be reading what I was writing and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect to fall in love with writing so much like AT ALL. Which is my segue into saying I bet your writing is already better than you think AND that if you want to you can absolutely get it to a place you never even imagined. I’m inferring you write yj fic?? Maybe you just mean writing in general BUT that said, if you do write yj fic and you ever wanna talk about it you can ABSOLUTELY message me. I would not be ANYWHERE near where I’m at without the other fic writers that I’ve shared stuff with and learned from, whether it’s like sharing snippets of drafts or even just talking through ideas (mamaweeds, dollfaces, and shipmvn have totally changed my fic and my life for the better in a million ways, along with so many others) and I know it can be awkward or hard to reach out at first. Maybe you’re like lady I already have yj fic writer friends or you’re not interested lol but I just want to offer it because it’s been soooo positive for me <3 <3 anyway if you’re just on my blog don’t mind the paragraphs of convo but I really wanted to respond to this lovely anon!

[nadiafalconer]

I wrote this yeeeeeaaarrrssss ago when I was in a specific rom-com era. I want to say this is from like 2015?? 2016? This is a one-shot excerpt. I don’t think this is going anywhere or will be built upon but it was a good exercise on writing a flowing conversation with multiple characters.

Anyway, any constructive tips are appreciated. Who knows?? Maybe I’ll be inspired to breathe some life into it.

meeting the friends

He nodded and we walked in. "Hey, y'all wanna grab a beer?" Tom asked the room. A couple of "yeahs" and grunts ran across the room. "I've got this." I told them, walking towards the bar. As I passed by Grayson, he whispered "incredible" again, with my favorite crooked smile on his face. I smiled back, winking and went to get the drinks. Now, if I remembered correctly, and I do, Tom liked PBR, Jason was a Sam Adam's fan, and Tim and Jack are Bud Light kind of men. Placing the orders, I headed back.

"They'll be out in a second." I said, announcing my return.

"Hey you." Grayson said.

"Hey yourself." I returned, slipping in next to him in the booth.

"So Rachel, what do you like to do for fun?" Tom inquired.

Now, this is a pivotal moment, honestly, this whole evening with the guys is a pivotal moment because it's basically judgement day with them.

"Well, on the surface, it looks like I do normal things like, you know, working out, finding out new places and things, meeting up with friends but really, I'm just wrecking havoc, seeing destruction." I said dead panned with my voice dipping slightly at the end. Jason cracked a smile, Tim chuckled softly, Jack nodded agreeingly but Tom fired on, fulfilling the role of the inquisitor.

"You work out for fun?"

"Yeah I do. It's good for stress. And the body and all that."

"Right, right."

"Yep. I try to drag this one along" I gesture towards Grayson "but he can't quite keep up. So I try to take it easy on him."

"Can't keep up huh?"

"Sorry buddy. It's the truth."

"Don't sweat it." I told him, patting his thigh. He grabbed my hand, gave it a little squeeze and held on under the table. Our drinks arrived then, with fresh beer nuts and the waiter started attempting to distribute it when I delegated the drinks and the owners.

"Damn. That's pretty good." Tim said. "How'd you know?"

"I saw you all with them when I came in."

"We weren't drinking when you came in."

"True. You all were done but the bottles were in your vicinity at the table. I made an educated guess."

"Well, that's a damn good educated guess." Tim said in that sure way of his.

"Why, thank you."

"So Grayson here tells us that y'all met at a rodeo." I nodded.

"Excuse my assumptions but what were you doing there?"

Chuckling, I answered. "A friend of mine from school loves horses. Always has. We recently reconnected and he invited me out. It's been a while since I've been to one actually. College time was the last couple of times I'd been to a rodeo."

"'He' huh?" Tom jumped back into the conversation.

"Yep. 'He.'"

"How close are you and he?"

"How ever do you mean?" I innocently asked. He slightly squinted his eyes, realizing that I was forcing him to voice his insinuations aloud. Staying true to his reputation, he fired on unashamedly.

"How close are y'all? Your rodeo friend and yourself?"

"Pretty close, now that we've reconnected. We do all sorts of things, you know. Sometimes we get together and just braid our hair, other times, we like to go to cafés and bash on people's outfit choices but our absolute favorite pastime would have to be trying on dresses together when we go shopping." He smiled. "Right, right." He said, his twang slipping in. "She's funny." He told Grayson.

"She's also right here." I said, winking at him. "So, tell me, which one of you knew he was going to go riding without any safety precautions?" I turned on them. I saw recognition flash in all of their eyes. "Yeah, that's right. I know. Buddy over here got hurt and on your watch. Let's try to keep that to a minimum yeah?"

A chorus of "Yep.", "Yes ma'am.", "You've got it." rang loud and clear, with Jack staying true to his nature as a man of few words, he nodded and uttered a firm "Got it."

"Good. Now I've heard that you like to get some beers and go to the range?"

"Uh yeah. We do."

"Good. When you're ready, we should go." I told them.

"I like her." Jason said matter of factly, then turned to me and repeated his statement. "I like you."

"Why, thank you." I told him.

"I second that." Tim added. Jack nodded firmly and shot me a wink. I smiled fully and clapped my hands. Tom stayed silent, looked around in betrayal at his friends as though they'd broken a pact.

"Well then. This would've awkward, if I succumbed to peer pressure." Tom quipped.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

The Masters + finding rocks that match the color of each other's eyes

Characters included: Simm, Missy/Gomez, and Dhawan

Warnings: some cute and romantic fluff, brief mentions of light hearted threats/violence (it's The Masters, what do you expect), brief swearing

A/N: for anyone who doesn't understand the context here basically there was a trend on tiktok where you and your partner or friend look for rocks that match the colors of each other's eyes and I thought that would be a cute thing to write with the masters (if y'all want me to do a version with the doctors or the companions then just lemme know)

Simm! Master

Absolutely does not want to do it with you at first I'm sorry

He needs to be either tricked or bribed, or you need to catch him at a moment when he's already feeling vulnerable

Honestly it'll most likely end up being the former of the two

Bribe him with extra kisses and cuddles. It'll work, even if he does still complain

Doesn't actually look for the right rock color at first, he just wants to throw rocks at other people instead

Gets mad when you tell him to stop and (lovingly) threatens to stone you

As soon as he finds the one he's looking for he wants to leave immediately, even if you're still searching. He does not care

Acts like he doesn't know what happened to the rock he found that matches the color of your eyes when you ask him about it later on (he snuck it in his pocket and stares at it every night before he falls asleep)

Missy/Gomez! Master

She'd be the most excited out of all of them honestly, even if she doesn't show it on the outside

I'm a firm believer that Missy is a true romantic at heart and actually really loves cliche couple activities okay

Ends up taking you to a stony beach or rock covered planet with her TARDIS, wanting to make a day of it

She doesn't rush you when searching, mostly because she also doesn't want to be rushed

Spends her time finding a rock that matches the color of your eyes perfectly, and if you can't find one that matches hers then she'll help you look

She wants to sit with you on a blanket and hold hands while watching the sunset <3

Later she finds something that'll turn the rock she found that matches your eyes into a piece of jewelry that way she can always have a part of you with her

Dhawan! Master

He doesn't need to be bribed like Simm! Master does, but it will definitely take some persuading

Refuses to let you choose where you're going to search. It's his TARDIS, and he'll take you wherever he wants lmao

Says he doesn't want to spend all day looking, but then does just that because he's a perfectionist who refuses to settle for anything that's not the best, especially when it comes to you

Grumbles under his breath the entire time he's searching because he gets upset when he doesn't find the 'right' rock as soon as possible

If you help him look not only will his frustration disappear he'll also get calmer and maybe even give you a kiss as a thank you

He ends up leaving with an entire bag full of rocks because he couldn't decide on just one, so now he has a whole collection of them that's literally just your eye color

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87

[1111jenx]

Astrology Observ Rants: 🌜random placements🌛

Heyyyy!! So I was really inspired by this one fellow blogger that i have mutuals with on my tumblr feed and decided to start writing some rants!😆 Take this easy and have fun! Lemme know what you guys think down below:)

1. Leo Moon/Venus/Rising. You do not need others validation to feel happy. When people tell you to back off, back off. Repeat after me until that becomes real. I'm a Leo Rising/Venus so I truly know this best. Some of us really see red flag as a sign to chase lol

2. Are you really bestfriends with a Scorpio Venus if they never told you all of their sketchy schemes? Oh you didn't know that they created a fake Tinder account and spent 2 hours swiping left on the app at 1AM in the morning to see if they will find their s/o account? Even if their s/o is sound asleep next to them? You didn't know they do that? They probably not your bestfriend then😬 (Mix this with Virgo/Libra energy and you get a demon)

3. A big hug then a loving slap to all of my Gemini Sun with Leo Venus out there! Some of y'all are simply crazy possessive but refuse to show it somehow? Why do you feel so much but show so little? Being in love will not make you guys distracted. Show the world how big your heart is. My Leo Venus will really appreciate this thank you.

4. Sagittarius moon people... Are you guys like... Okay? Literally any sun with sagittarius moon are the worst overthinkers I've met in my life, worst temper too. I'm not sure why some people believe Sag moon slacks off and ignore the problem. In my experience I have not met any Sagittarius moon thats not either 1. confrontational 2. extreme anger issues 3. extreme identity crisis 4. truly feel bad when they did someone dirty and can owe up to their wrongs 5. STUDIOUS ( My mom has this and her sun is in Gemini and despite her age, she's currently learning 2 new languages and has traveled to most countries in the world, I'm serious)

5. I didn't really get why Sagittarius men have such a bad reputation until I met one. Wow. And y'all have the audacity to call Gemini men evil? Have you met a Sag man with water placements?

6. Gemini Rising please please please calm down. I love your energy when you're at your best. Literal sunshine! But your moodiness is INSANE and you guys have anxiety so bad sometimes I just wanna give y'all a hug.

7. Hey Aquarius Rising! It's time to let go of this toxic cycle. You know you deserve better. Clinging on people who won't share the spotlight with you don't do any good.

8. I'm sorry I typed formla instead of *formula! Now can you shut up and stop taking screenshots of my grammar errors? Yeah I'm talking about you guys, Virgo Moon/Mars.

9. I feel like no one ever talks about how Cancer Mercury can either never freaking open up??? Like at all??? Or can't shut up about their emotions??? Like its either the former or the latter it's tiring boo.

10. Gemini Mercury aspecting Venus. Please. Make a decision.

11. Capricorn mars energy makes me wanna bend over and let them torture me sometimes. But only when they're heartless and don't give a damn about me. When they start to care it's like they want us to elope ASAP.

12. I think it'd be best if Aries Moon people sit down and lock themselves up in a room when they're about to throw a tantrum. This will really help your relationships.

13. Pisces sun women and their relationships with their grandparents. A lot of Pisces I know grow up with their grandparents!! Not a rant just a fun fact lol.

14. Pisces Moon people are delusional. I said what I said. Y'all really believe blasting "Attract my ex come back to me affirmations RHZ" will manifest your ex back in your life. Get a therapist. (I'm a Pisces moon so I know. Don't come for me)

15. Finally, Leo sun with Libra venus❤️ I read somewhere saying that you guys are angels! You are. But in the same time. Some of y'all will risk it ALL when you want someone. I mean literally. Stop it.

love,

saint jenx🪐

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Haikyuu manager headcanons!!

Okay so these adorable teams all have the softest spot for their tiny little manager-chan, and here's how they all treat her.

[Ari's note: okay manager fics and headcanons are my absolute favourite and I love writing them]

*.` | Karasuno

They are extremely laid back with you, compared to some of the other teams. They give you your space, at the same time listen to you when you have something to say.

Respectful simps. Similar to how they act with Kiyoko (ugh yes queen-chan) they're in tears whenever you do things to motivate them, like cheer at their practice matches or give them good luck charms.

They still have the good luck charms you fastened on their bag before one of the matches.

Tanaka and Noya would literally worship the ground which you walked on. Like wow how did they get so lucky as to have three?? Cute managers?? On their team??

Yachi and you would probably subtly simp over Kiyoko with them too ngl.

Hinata and Kags would probably see you as an older sister, eventho you're their age because you're so caring and responsible.

Suga is literally your mom and Daichi is your dad. They make sure you're all healthy and you're doing well in school.

Asahi gives you hugs whenever you're sad or upset! Fite me but I think this gentle baby gives the best hugs ever >:( he's like your comfort senpai and you'd do the same for him, especially when he's feeling insecure or down.

Yams would probably be very shy around you, but he'll warm up in time.

Ahhh the best part. Tsukki! He'd find you annoying and simply not get why you're so Mcfreaking happy at first (shut up u salty beanpole, manager-chan is just a ray of sunshine, okay?) But he soon finds it endearing and slowly gets closer to you.

You walk home with Yams and Tsukki every day since your houses are close, and Tsukki walks you to your door to make sure you're safe!

Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita all see you as a little sister and often help you with your managerial duties.

The team cares and respects you so much, and are so thankful you've joined them!!

Meat buns at Ukai's are your hangout spot, and everytime you see them chilling you're so thankful to have such great friends.

*.` | Aoba Johsai

Aaah we're at the team of one of my favourite characters!! I'll start with Oikawa (can't you tell I'm so biased omg)

Oikawa absolutely adores manager-chan because although she's tiny, she's very strict, and doesn't let his fangirls near the gym when he's practicing, which he appreciates.

"yn-chan, you're so good to me, can I take you out as a thank-you?" Cue Iwa-chan's ball which comes flying at Oikawa's head. "Stop flirting with the manager, shitty-kawa"

Iwa's very fond of you too, but he doesn't let it show too often. Sometimes he picks up your favourite coffee from the vending machine and claims that he bought it by "accident". (How believable<3)

Kunimi probably sends you weird tiktok videos and tags you in funny memes. Very wholesome 10/10.

Kyotani just?? Doesn't understand you?? Like wow, she's small but the team listens to her?? Why?? He later finds out you're the manager. Mad dork here didn't know you were managing the team for the past month, and thought you just came to the gym to watch them practice. Smh.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki give you headpats and like taking selfies with you, much to Oikawa's dismay. He wants to be the only one taking pictures with you.

Like no manager-chan. Stop. Get away from them. My phone's right here I wanna take selfies with you :(

Kindaichi is cool with you. Y'all are bros and you game together sometimes.

Watari and Yahaba join too, and they're surprised to know that you're so aggressive when you game.

Cue a jealous Oikawa who struggles learning how to game just so he's invited to play with you. Simp smh.

They're all very gentle with you, and since you're their first female manager, they make sure to never make you feel uncomfortable.

You guys like grabbing ramen together and having eating contests. They really bring out your aggressive side but you love them for it.

*.` | Shiratorizawa

Can I just say Semi bsf material? Yes? Yes. Semi Eita is best friend material.

Makes you cute little Spotify playlists and you help him write lyrics to songs occasionally. You play an instrument too and you guys can just jam out for hours on end together.

You get the idea of applying to be the manager because of him, and it all took off from there.

Goshiki loves you. You're fond of your kohāi, and you genuinely just give this touch-starved future ace a lot of hugs and cuddles, which he's SO grateful for.

Like wow, y/n-chan isn't just pretty?? She's also so sweet? And smart? And capable? Semi why have you been hiding her for so long??¿ >:(

Goshiki is just so protective of you, he'd commit murder if he had to.

You have to earn Ushiwaka's respect, yk? And slowly but surely he comes to realise how dependable and responsible you are, and treats you like an indispensable member of the team.

He's got your back. And if he ever senses you're upset, he's trying to cheer you up as best as he can.

"do not feel upset, those grades will mean nothing to you in the future. I doubt you will be able to remember what you got in your second year, third monthly test." You think he's being sweet, and yes he is (in a way), but he's also trying to be reasonable and logical.

Tendo loosens you up and you tend to play pranks on the others with him.

The funniest was when you tried to prank Ushijima by adding wasabi to his onigiri and he?? Didn't get it??

Like "y/n-chan, Tendo, why did you add wasabi to this onigiri? It would've been so much better with tuna mayo??" And he has no reaction whatsoever?¿?

Cue Goshiki who tries the onigiri because he wants to prove he has spice tolerance like Ushijima, eventhough you can low-key see him tearing up.

Shirabu is your voice of reason and you and him often study together. You also have deep and philosophical conversations at 12 a.m. over text, and it is just so wholesome.

He respects you so much, not just because you care for him, but because he finds your brain so fricking smexy.

These eagle babies bring out the best in you and you're always eager to push them forward and bring out the best in them.

*.` | Fukurodani

First thing's first, besides Akaashi, you are the only other person who can cheer up an emo-mood Bokuto.

Just say "Hey Bo, you're gonna look so much cooler when you spike the ball like the true ace that you are" and his hair's all perking up and his eyes are shining.

Akaashi thinks you are an angel sent from heaven.

You're very soft on your baby owls, and they genuinely just love getting positive affirmations from you.

Akaashi always blushes when you compliment him on his sets. And you can hear him murmur genuine words of gratitude.

The other members do too. They're glad because sometimes people focus on Bo too much and forget to give them recognition, yk? It's easy to get overlooked :(

But thanks to manager-chan who's so attentive with all of them, and who's aware of all their quirks and moods, they're all so touched and so so happy.

You have a habit of getting cold pretty often, especially since practice finishes late and it's pretty chilly by then.

Konoha always lends you his jacket and walks you home, since your home's are the closest. There's just something about you that makes you soft.

You get along really well with Kaori and Yukie, and you'd definitely consider them your best friends, considering y'all are in this thang togetherrrr!!

The Fukurodani team are just all a bunch of crackheads, but they're your crackheads and you wouldn't trade them for the world.

You're a very tight-knit family, (like ugh I just get lots of comfortable, safe vibes from Fukurodani :(( <3)

You guys hang out at the store near your school pretty often to recharge after grueling days of practice together.

*.` | Nekoma

My second favourite team, Nekoma!! They are precious, gentle, soft babies and I love them to bits and pieces >:(

I'll start with Kuroo. You've always had a tiny soft spot for Kuroo ever since you've become his lab partner in chemistry class.

His notes are immaculate. I mean, cmon we're all hoes for pretty notes

You think he's so incredibly smart and talented, so when he suggests you become the Nekoma manager, you just agree right away.

You guys grow closer since you've started spending more time with him, and you banter around more often than not with chemistry pickup lines.

"hey kitten, let's form a covalent bond"

He's so whipped after you retort back. Like wow she called me sodium fine and said I'm like an exothermic reaction? Permission to simp??

(Ari stfu this isn't a Kuroo fanfic)

Kenma and you definitely play animal crossing together, and he even lets you try his switch, after you guys grow closer.

Kuroo is so insulted, he's never even touched Kenma's switch before >:(

You also push Kenma to do better during practice and he starts to care more about volleyball, since you seem so enthusiastic about it.

Yamamoto isn't even subtle about his simping smh T-T unlike Kuroo, he shamelessly flirts with you, and can't wait to show you off to Tanaka and Noya at the next camp.

"we have such a gorgeous manager now, Nekoma is ThRiViNg" he says in his head with this ridiculous dopey ass smile on his face +_+

Since deep down inside, you're a huge baby, you, Lev, Shibayama, and Inuoka get along so well. They're just happy energetic kittens, and they make you feel so happy.

y'alls energy just match, yk?

Although Fukunaga is shy to tell jokes, he tells them to you, because he knows you'd never judge him, and you actually kinda enjoy laughing along :) he's so touched.

Momma Yaku!! Yaku always lends you his jacket and makes sure to carry snacks for you in his bag. He knows you care so much about the team that you often neglect your own health, which is why he's always there to make you're feeling healthy and good.

Kai and Teshiro help you with your homework and like talking about their favourite singers with you.

They're all just such amazing human beings who treat you so well, and you feel so blessed to be a part of their team. You adore them so much, and they adore you back tenfold.

*.` | Inarizaki

[Ari's note: Ello there luvs, you've made it to the bottom of this sweet hc post and just get ready for Inarizaki :( they're my favourite team of all time, and I'm just so biased, I'm sorry ;-;]

Inarizaki's entire team just adores you so much, they think you're the light of their lives.

They're all super touch starved babies, and once you realized that, you've made sure to ensure they never feel that way.

Aran is kinda like your protective senpai, and his heart flutters ever so slightly when you call him that senpai kink oops and give him headpats, and he loves patting your head in return.

The twins are so incredibly soft for you.

Their fangirls are sometimes pretty mean, but one glare from the duo is enough to shut them up.

Osamu cooks bentos for you and gives you the warmest hugs when you ask for them, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Your hand is almost always in Atsumu's because he's so slick?? Like y'all, this mf would be like "y/n-chan, my hand has been aching for a while now" and when you go to observe it, he just pulls your hand into his and pulls you to follow him.

His entire body heats up when you kiss his cheek after a particularly good game, and his brain literally goes "grrrr empty", when he's usually so sly.

The twins are your bodyguards, they follow you everywhere and protect you all the time.

Enter Suna Rintaro, your meme king. He definitely records funny moments that happen during practice and send them to you, just to make you laugh, or memes of the members.

He also definitely takes pictures of you when you aren't noticing, simply because he likes the way your hair looked, or because you looked so beautiful.

Like the twins, his eyes widen whenever you kiss his cheek or ruffle his hair, and it's literally like suna.exc has stopped functioning.

Congrats manager-chan, you broke the kid -.-

Omimi might come across as stoic and cold but he's actually a huge softie, and you often give him positive affirmations.

He's also definitely a huge lover of your hugs, and looks forward to them as motivation to play well.

He'd never tell you though, he's shy™.

My baby Kita compliments you all the fricking time.

"y/n-chan, I mean this is the most sincere way, I think this hairstyle looks stunning on you"

Or "you're so capable and you work so hard, I'm so thankful to have you by my side"

And he has the most genuine expression on his face, his eyes are so earnest and shining so bright.

And when you smile at him, he's like oh shit I made her smile, depression whom? I only know serotonin.

Ginjima is usually rash but with you, he takes his time and weighs everything he says.

He doesn't wanna accidentally hurt you and regret it since he was being careless and not thinking at all.

You calm him down when he's getting too hotheaded with gentle words and he's suddenly a blushing mess.

Unlike some of the other teams that tease you a bunch, Inarizaki treats you so gently. Their little princess, as they think of you.

So mf-ing protective, like if someone looks at you wrong, you can totally bet Atsumu's going for their ankles, sangwoo style, or Osamu is trash talking them to their knees.

Would drop anything and everything to help you if ever needed.

They think you're they're entire world because you go above and beyond for them, and they genuinely love you. Like actually LOVE you to bits and pieces.

—*.`

[Ari's note: AHHH so the manager fic is done this was literally such a joy to write!! I hope you enjoyed it

Big big hugs <3 have a beautiful day, luvs!!]

[campeyourdiems]

Hello! I've just seen your posts and i think they are really amazing :] If you dont mind could i ask for some Hc for Daniel, David, (Platonicaly) max, (Platonicaly) Nikki and Gwen with a s/o (Adoptive parent for Max and Friend for Niki, if you dont mind) that mattches everyone personality? If you dont understand here is something that can help: the reader could be talking to Max (or someone else) with their same tone of attitude and Persona then reader turns to talk to david (or someone else) and they match their attitude and persona

im sorry if this was to much to ask for! You dont have to write this but if you do Thank you! (All mistakes are unintentional as im not fully english 😅) - All pronound Anon

Alrighty, this one's gonna be a bit long I think, but I'm gonna try! Sorry, this one's been sitting there for a while, we've been a bit unmotivated lately. Thank you though, I hope we can live up to expectations with this one! A warning though, this may not turn out the way you'd like. I apologize in advance.

Daniel, David, and Gwen x S/o who changes personalities with different people

Daniel

He tends to use it to his advantage

He doesn't really ever completely trust you

However, he finds you useful

So he keeps you around

Truthfully he finds himself attracted to the personality you made for him

Very much so

But he can never be sure if it's real

So I don't exactly see y'all being too close-

But he'd be willing to strike up a more casual relationship with you

He refuses to let himself get too attached

David

I can't really see it working out, really-

In order for this to work at all, he'd have to be unaware of it

Unfortunately, as soon as he'd find out he wouldn't be interested in continuing to see you

It's a matter of trust really-

How can you trust someone if you're not sure who they really are

He'd explain it to you as gently as possible

He doesn't wanna hurt you

But the relationship can't be healthy if you're never the real you

Gwen

Unfortunately, I don't see this working out either

As with David, she'd have to be unaware of it for it to go anywhere

Eventually, she'd end up finding out and I can't imagine she'd be very happy

She'd be charmed by the personality you made for her

Might consider a fling of sorts

But I don't see her really being able to trust you

Max and Nikki & a Friend or Parent who changes personalities with different people

Max

Might understand why you do it a bit

I don't think he'd appreciate it too much outside of when it's useful

Might start picking up on it a bit and adopting a similar behavior

I feel like it'll either lead to problems or him becoming a bit popular

Perhaps a bit of both

Nikki

She'll try her best to ignore it

But it sort of unnerves her

She's worried you don't actually like her and just pretend you do

She never really brings it up though and tends to just go with it

She thinks you're fun while you act the way you do with her

But she gets a little confused when you suddenly change into what feels like a whole different person with someone else

[miss-celestial-being]

𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗

➾ 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖔:

name — bee (moots can call me belle)

age — 16 (surprising, right?)

pronouns — she/they (tho you can call me whatever you like)

sexual orientation — i..... idfk anymore

country — please kill me

time zone — pacific standard time (pst california)

➾ 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊:

white, natural wavy/curly brunette (tho i dye my hair every now and then)

aesthetic is all over the place but i tend to stick with boxy graphic/band tees or really big sweatshirts, mostly muted colors with a small pop of bright color

plus sized, tall, faint freckles and moles, lots of acne bc ✨teenager✨, a bunch of stretch marks and cellulite

➾ 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞:

hogwarts house — slytherin (tho i got ravenclaw once)

three big signs — gemini sun, sagittarius moon, libra rising

personality type — istp-t

➾ 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌:

i dont have any separate blog for shitposts and rants or interaction with friends so expect that all here. i like to think i'm a pretty friendly person (at least online) so feel free to talk to me anytime!

i write for many fandoms, including, harry potter, stranger things, the 100, and bridgerton. expect more to be added as i get invested in more and more shows and movies.

original ideas are hard, i get that completely. and sometimes you don't remember exactly where you got the idea from, which is completely fine. i do not expect any credit to be given if i inspire your writing, that's just part of the process. as long as you're not blatantly stealing anything, we don't have any problems.

if you would like to translate my work or post it somewhere else, please message me. i'm pretty chill so don't feel threatened or anything. if you find my work good or interesting and would like it to reach others, just make sure to get my WRITTEN permission and CREDIT ME!! if you don't, you will be reported and blocked. i may be chill but i DO NOT tolerate plagiarism, it is ILLEGAL!!

if you have any complaints or concerns, please feel free to message me or send me an ask as long as you're not rude about it. i'm always looking for ways i can improve, whether that be in my writing or as a person. i love getting feedback, it really helps me learn and grow

i will never be one of those blogs that block people if they spam like bc i understand that there are blogs that don't wanna have any posts on their blog or they're ashamed they're reading fanfiction or it just doesn't match what they talk about on their blog. and i do appreciate likes because it shows me what y'all like and if i should continue making something or writing about a certain character. i also appreciate the few reblogs i do get because it really helps with the algorithm, so thank you <3

➾ 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒/𝖋𝖚𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘:

i hate the feeling of velvet and felt, i feel physically sick when touching it. its basically like nails on a chalkboard.

i have a cat named oreo, who i am convinced is a velociraptor in disguise (velociraptors can open doors, that's why). She likes to open my door with her mind powers and/or knock on it and scream at me till i open it.

i love frogs and rats so so much, i really want them as pets (which is kinda hard with a cat so im probably gonna get them when i move out).

i have an "irrational" fear of spiders. every time i see one i either scream for someone to kill it, hyperventilate, or cry. my mom gets pissed at me for asking her to kill them

i've been biting my nails since before i even had a developed memory. my therapist thinks its from past anxiety that's become a habit.

i have a depression, anxiety, and adhd

i have issues with confrontation, most likely caused by ptsd (according to my therapist). i usually cry when someone yells at me or looks like they're gonna hit me (unless i started the fight and it's with someone that's either younger than me or shorter than me)

i have a tendency to focus on my insecurities for too long and begin to think i'm unloveable, which is no one's fault, i'm just a dumbass.

i love every single one of you to the moon and back, nothing will change my mind.