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astarionancuntnin · 4 months ago

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Die For You (Epilogue)

summary: a year after their confrontation with the corrupted lords, a fleeting thought crosses astarion's mind as he watches you admiring the crack of dawn.

rating: E

word count: 4.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. time skip, fluff (in my angsty fanfic? its more likely than you think!), emotional smut. full list on ao3

a/n: gods, what a ride! this was my very first long fic, and im very happy with how it turned out, considering i had NO idea how this would end up when i first started it! this ending was one of three, based on the poll yall have taken on the second chapter. i hope it lives up to your expectations and im looking forward to all the feedback! this is not my only work, if you wanna be tagged on my other works, feel free to let me know and ill add you to the tag list. thank you all for sticking along! <3

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You're part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark

You're a part of the morning and everything matters

And we are, an atom and a star

You're a part of the movement and everything matters

It has been a year since your transformation. A year since you officially died and came back as Astarion’s dark consort; his bride, his eternal love. Since the incident with the corrupted nobles, you’ve only grown stronger, as much as a vampire – and he couldn’t be more proud of you – than as a couple.

Your return among his court was gradual. You were reluctant at first: the lingering fear from the dreadful soiree you experienced still affected you, so Astarion let you watch from the shadows; he would never force you to do something you didn't want to. It's only after two more months that you asked if you could attend, and only if you could stay by his side; your social anxiety wouldn't let you be alone in a room with so many strangers without feeling as if you were asphyxiated. He was beyond thrilled by your request, as he wanted nothing more than to introduce the whole world to his beloved.

It took some more time, but you found yourself joining in on discussions with lords about the state of the city and its economic state. Your teachings were buried deep in your memory, but you retained the most important parts of them, using those to show your knowledge and bring forward ideas to save the city from its downfall following the mindflayer attack. To your surprise, you found yourself right at your place within the high society; it was in your blood after all, and what was the point of running from it when you were clearly a natural? You found out that it was never your title that you dreaded, but rather the association to your parents and contributing to their schemes — something you were glad to not be a part of anymore.

The change was almost seamless: one day you were attached to Astarion's arm, never leaving his side, and the next, you were strolling through the crowd, knowing everyone's name, their occupation, and how influential they were. While Astarion was able to persuade more nobles to ally with him, you’ve been very successful at swaying people to your advantage, using your charms and wits to redirect power from the right people for the good of the city; together, you’re considered the strongest couple in Baldur’s Gate.

You proved yourself countless times, and he was always delighted to present you as his partner.

His equal.

After yet another successful night of dancing and socialising, one where you had convinced a neighbouring lord to fund an orphanage for the children who had lost their parents in the attack, you met up with your lover in your chambers to celebrate the news. In truth, everything you accomplished was a great reason to celebrate.

To see you act with the might of a Lady, smart and witty, and use every tool you had to your advantage made him swoon over you, and one of the best ways to express it was to worship you in bed, spending hours and hours devoting himself to you.

It’s something you thought you would struggle with — the intimacy after the violence you had endured — but you found yourself easily melting in his embrace once you were back at the palace. Just like that first night you spent together and he had let you guide that dance; upon your return, he let you take control until you were the one asking for him to take you however and wherever he wanted, how you grew to crave his touch, the look in his eyes when a sinful thought was shared across your connection, and the faint blush you could spy on cheeks and ears as he painted his vision of you via your bond. The endless teasing throughout the evening sure made the meetings more interesting, and less dreadful, if you had to admit it.

After a great season of events, Astarion cancelled all his meetings for the next tenday to devote his attention to you, and you only. No one was to disturb either of you unless they had a death wish.

And the night of that last meeting, any restraints had broken down, when you almost threw yourself at each other as soon as your last visitor had left the palace. It started out in the hallways, but you were quickly brought into his room to have the privacy you required. You spent the remainder of the night in bed, switching from making love to cuddling, until you were back to straddle him for more; unable to leave the other’s side or even spend a second without your bodies touching.

He kissed each and every part of your body, showing his devotion to you in such a delicate manner that turned you to putty in his hands, embracing away any pain your body had gone through. This past year, he had been the most attentive lover; always in the moment with you, making sure that your eyes met as his hips collided with yours, sharing the same breath that united you both, body and soul. As your bodies fused and you both came undone, you could sense the love, the utter adoration he had for you. Both of you grounded the other and reminded each other that you were not the result of your past; only you chose what to make of it.

There was no one else in the world who could understand you better than each other.

It’s only when you noticed dawn approaching as you nuzzled into his chest, that you realised how long you had been indulging in the other. You chuckled and commented on how you both could use some sleep, since if one of you was tired, the other would be too, and really, how impractical it would be to have you both incapacitated at once.

He took a look at you as he lazily caressed your hair and that’s when he was reminded of the one thing that had been on his mind these last few months. The one thing he dreaded, but couldn’t avoid anymore.

“There is a way, you know…” he said, his voice soft. “To sever the bond. Between creator and consort.” He pauses as you lift your head, frowning as you meet his gaze, and for a second he doubts if he should carry on, but quickly pushes the doubts aside; you deserved to know. To have a chance to decide for yourself, without any ultimatum.

“It is mostly painless,” he continued, “You would remain as you are, a full fledged vampire, but we wouldn’t share our connection anymore; no more mental discussion, no more shared sensations.” You looked at him with a thousand questions in your eyes, as this was the last thing you expected this morning. “I am willing to go through the procedure for you, should you desire it.”

You remained silent through your blinking, until you finally found the words that fought to get out. “You would… really do that?”

This proposition felt so unlike the Astarion who once had you chained up in his dungeons, something that he had agreed had been, and you quote, ‘impolite’, since you last spoke about it. He didn’t regret it — you wouldn’t be in his arms otherwise — but he supposed there could’ve been a better way to talk to you at the reunion.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself, I can’t bring myself to keep you bound to me after what you’ve been through. It… wouldn’t be fair for me to make that decision for you. I want you to have the chance to make the choice yourself.”

You scanned his expression, and although you saw the sincerity, you also sensed grief. Breaking your bond would sever any type of connection between you both. A part of you would die along with it, and you would lose the possibility of lingering in each other's mind. Even though you understood his intentions, it didn’t make sense for him to propose this when he finally had you to himself. Against your best judgement, you peeked into his mind, searching for an explanation, and what you found completely shattered you.

By offering this to you, Astarion understood that there was a chance you might just… leave. With nothing holding you back, linking you to him, he thought you had no reason to stay. That the sole reason keeping you here was this bond, and even with how close you had become, how much you had grown together in your relationship, how utterly in love you were — in that moment, under all the false confidence, you saw right through him; he was convinced that once the bond was broken, you would leave. Run away from this mess that had been life at his side, and find someone who truly deserved you, saw you for your worth. That you could only degrade yourself if you stayed after what he had put you through. He didn’t believe for a second that you would continue to put up with this life if you had the choice, and yet, here he was proposing it to you, offering you this way out.

You gave him a soft smile, a reassuring one that you hoped carried the intention you had.

“I… would like that.” He nodded, understanding that this was a possibility, and he hoped you would take this opportunity, if only for your own sake, but it didn't hurt any less. “But I do have a condition.”

He smiled sadly, his features softening at hearing you bargaining, a bittersweet reminder of how all of this started. “Anything for you, my dear.”

It’s the warmth of the sun’s embrace that stirs Astarion awake this morning. Gods, he will never tire of it. If only for this reason, his ascension was well worth it, and no one will ever convince him otherwise.

You let your minds connect, telling him your request through your bond, and when you saw the light sparkle in his ruby eyes and his face light up, you knew there was nothing in the world he would like more.

That, and seeing his reflection again. He's lost count of the times he spent admiring himself; pausing at every mirror he had meticulously installed around the palace, stealing glances at his reflection, and lingering at the colour of his deep ruby eyes. Those same eyes that had sealed the fate of so many unfortunate souls; these deadly, beautiful weapons, that keep helping him charm the right people. How he went two hundred years without enjoying the sight of himself has him completely astounded. Needless to say, this was an issue no more, and long gone were the days of misery; Nearly two years later, he had everything he ever wanted, at long last.

Everything, and yet his most prized possession remained this little human fighter turned bride.

Really, the only person he ever truly wanted, that he ever loved, even. A feeling that had felt most foreign once upon a time. He never thought he could experience such a strong emotion, something that was forbidden to him just over three years ago — something he would’ve considered a weakness — turned into his greatest strength. A feeling that overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t restrain himself from physically expressing it; taking his dark consort in every room, every surface of the palace, until they were both panting, eyes half-lidded and lost in one another. That same feeling that would now have him chanting out her name all night long as he devoted himself to her; her body, her pleasure, her desire for him. How utterly blessed he was to have her just as enamoured for him as he was for her.

As he finally awakens from his reverie, he quickly picks up on the empty spot next to him. Curious, he thinks, she was never the early bird. When he lifts himself on his elbows, that's when he sees her on his balcony, and he takes the time to admire her; his consort, his love, still by his side through it all, blessed by the rising sun’s warmth. It took over a year more after their engagement, as Astarion couldn’t believe her decision to stay, but he finally got over the fear of losing her. After everything that had happened, and the opportunity she was given, she chose to stay and have a life with him. After everything, she still loved him just as deeply, and that day at the altar, she promised to spend the rest of her undead life showing him just how much she did love him.

Content with the sight of her, he finally gets up to join her on the balcony, without bothering to dress up. He sneaks up on her, snuggling her from behind, his hands wrapping around her waist, while he leaves playful kisses along her neck and shoulder to greet her.

“Mmmh, hello my treasure,” he murmurs in the crook of her neck. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was just admiring the sun,” she hums. “It’s funny, I never really bothered to appreciate it until I thought I could never be under its light,” she takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, taking in the warmth she was basking in. “I never quite realised how beautiful this world is.”

She sighs in his embrace, but it's almost a moan, as she pushes back against him for more contact, “I didn’t think I would disturb you from your precious beauty sleep.”

He can hear her smile through her mumbling, and he smiles in return, “It’s your sleep I’m rather worried about dear.” His kisses linger on her neck, over the bite marks he birthed upon her skin an eternity ago. “And I think you should join me back in bed to remedy it.”

She laughs, “I’m not sure your idea of rest coincides with mine,” she turns around to face him and rests her hands on his bare chest. “Actually, I rather believe you will wear me out more than anything.”

He smirks as he presses her against the edge of the balcony, lifting her nightgown up before propping her up to rest atop it, guiding her legs to wrap around him. “Do you really think so little of me? That I would drag you to bed only to satisfy my carnal desires?”

“Well,” she rolls her eyes as she smiles, “you haven’t given me a reason that proves you would do otherwise.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and in the same movement, he wraps his arms around her waist and leans into the nape of her neck, resuming his sweet attention. When his smile widens, he feels the creases in his cheeks, depicting the countless moments of happiness she brought him since she has blessed him with her company.

“I assure you, my love, my intentions were most pure,” he purrs.

She tilts her head aside, offering him more liberties with her neck. “Were they now? Well, if you say so, then I’m sure I can trust you to carry me to bed where I shall resume my rest.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid the offer has expired. You see,” his finger hooks the string of her nightgown, pulling it down, “now, all I can offer,” he pulls down the other one, revealing your breasts to the morning breeze, “is a morning spent fulfilling our matrimonial duties.” “Matrimonial duties?” She exclaims ironically. “What unholy thoughts have you got in mind, I wonder.”

“I could show you, if you would indulge me,” his kisses over her skin become sloppy, his teeth softly grazing her skin while his tongue leaves a faint trail of saliva from her shoulder up to her ear, playfully nibbling it, while one hand reaches for her breast and the other finds its way in the heat between her legs.

“Ah– Astarion…” Her playful tone is replaced by soft moans as he takes a salacious pleasure in touching her in her most sensitive spots.

“What’s that, dear?” His fingers slide against her folds, not yet daring to dip further.

She groans, “You are incorrigible.”

“And yet, I don’t hear you asking me to stop,” he pinches her nipple between his fingers with the hand massaging her generous chest, while his other hand brushes over her clit, lingering near her entrance but intentionally avoiding it. As he hears her ragged breath, he pulls away, cutting any contact between the two of them, and languidly sucks on his fingers to taste her wetness, while his gaze focuses on her, before releasing his fingers with a pop. He tilts his head, with a playful look in his eyes, “Unless that’s what you want?”

She looks at him with lust clouding her vision, barely containing herself, “If you intend on teasing me, my lord, I hope you know what you’ve got coming for you.”

He leans back, assessing the vision of his consort completely lost in her need for him, with a salacious smile tugging at his lips, “My, my, is my little love threatening me?”

“Oh no,” her hands sneak into his hair to grab a handful of it before lightly pulling back and leaning into his ear, murmuring, “This is a promise.”

She lets go of his hair, leaving her hands wandering, and when their eyes meet again, they are darkened by their shared passion for each other. His voice comes out deeper, as he closes the distance between them, their lips now but a whisper apart.

“Then I believe I should make haste to tend to your needs, my lady.”

Their lips finally meet into a passionate kiss, the tenderness of it even surprising Astarion — considering the eager tone she had previously used — but he melts into it, pouring all of his longing into the kiss, just as she does when her hands pull back to hold his face closer. He picks her up from the edge of the balcony and carries her back into their room, where he lays her out on their bed and removes her nightgown, slowly unravelling her soft skin to the morning afterglow. The sight of her, bare before him — only for him; with her legs parted and inviting him in, her body bearing only the bite marks he had given her — is enough to break any restraints left in him. He couldn’t bear to tease her longer, he needed her as much as she needed him.

Licking his lips, he kneels at the end of the bed, crawling his way up to his wife. He lifts her leg over his shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to the apex of her thighs, until he reaches the centre of his desire. He breathes her in, the scent of her pleasure stirring something deep within him, before his tongue finds its way between her slick folds, where he finally licks her, from the bottom of her entrance right up to her clit.

She moans softly, already lost to the magic of his tongue, and that's when he lifts her thighs over his shoulders, locking her legs around him, and holding them in place to feast on his meal.

His tongue dives into her, reaching into the depth of her cunt and drinking in her nectar, the effects of it visibly affecting him, as his hardened cock throbs between his belly and the soft sheets of the bed. His hips move unconsciously, searching for a temporary relief as he moves his tongue out of her to lick his way back up, where he finds her swollen bud.

While his hand sneaks away from her thighs, into her dripping entrance, his eyes flick up to find her unravelling before him; her head thrown back, and her hands grabbing at the sheets, holding on for dear life.

“Gods, please…” she begs, her breathing failing her, and he smiles between her legs, as he pumps two fingers into her.

With a final flick of his tongue over her clit, he lifts his head up, still hitting that sweet spot inside of her, “Yes, little love?”

“I… I need you— gods, I need you.”

“You have me, my love,” he says, his voice soft like velvet. “All of me, however you wish.”

He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. He would never tire of having her melt under his touch, coming apart under him.

“Inside me,” she whimpers as she clenches around his fingers working wonders inside of her. “Now.”

The urgency of her tone was clearly noticeable, but Astarion wants to push her further, “But I am inside you, my dear.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows, her hair completely dishevelled and her chest rising with each deep breath, staring down her husband with a mix of fury and lust. “If you don’t fuck me right this instant— Ahhh ffffuck!”

While she was talking, Astarion went back to teasing her sensitive bud and accelerating the pace of his fingers thrusting in. “Oh, I’ll fuck you alright. By the time I'm done with your delicious cunt, you’ll only see stars, my sweet.”

He could easily make her go over the edge only with his mouth and his fingers; he had done it countless times in the past already, he was well aware of his abilities, but nothing compared to the feeling of her tightening around his cock and milking him dry while he pumped every drop of his seed into her. It was his favourite way to come with her, and he took great pleasure in making her shatter in every way imaginable. They had all the time in the world to discover the many ways she would cum under his touch.

“Mmh ahh— Pleasepleaseplease Astarion, I want to feel you inside of me, I’m begging you—” Her words get lost in her throat, instead replaced by cries as she nears her climax, until—

“Ah,” Astarion pulls away completely, “but how could I deny my lovely wife when she begs so beautifully.”

Her groans turn into small cries as his teasing starts to overwhelm her, and that’s when he drops her legs down on their bed and crawls over her, aligning himself with her swollen pussy, before linking their hands together to pin her down. He leans down and stops right before kissing her, simply to push her to the limits of her patience, and when she hisses at him for being just out of reach, he shoves his cock inside of her, stilling her.

He remains unmoving, always taking his time with his first thrust to take in the feelings of her tight walls, pulsing around him. Astarion rests his forehead on hers, their eyes lost in the other, carrying the words they had learned to communicate aloud after they had broken their bond.

Carrying on with this ritual had pushed them to communicate better and work on their relationship, creating a new type of bond with the other. They had learned to understand the other’s body language so well that sometimes, a simple look was enough to communicate their exact thoughts from across the room.

His fingers dig into the mattress as he tightens his hold on her, and he resumes his languid strokes, “Focus darling. I want to see every little expression you make while I fuck you. Can you do that for me?”

She tries to nod, but his depraved speech only pushes her further and faster to her climax, as she fights to keep her eyes open and focused on him.

When he feels her cunt’s grip thighten around him, he can barely contain himself anymore, “Fuck, just like that, love,” his groans and the wet sound of their hips slapping against each other gets only louder as he accelerates the pace, nearing his own climax, “Gods, you’re so tight around me— I’m gonna fill you up to the brim, and you’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are.”

A few more thrusts is all it takes to send her over the edge, screaming out as her climax erupts through her like electricity flowing through her veins, followed quickly by Astarion who stills inside of her, shooting thick ropes of come that leak out from her, into their bedsheets. It was the least of his worries right now — he could always change them later, but they would be ruined in the following hour regardless.

They both remain panting, basking in the bliss of this aftermath, until he takes a look at their hands still intertwined. On her right hand, he spies the sparkling diamond ring adorning her finger, the public display of their unison matching his own, and he brings it to his lips for a brief kiss, before taking the time to admire it, thinking back to how it all started.

“I told you, Lady Ancunín suits you beautifully, my love.”

She smiles sweetly, eyes tired from their lovemaking, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

And he knew she spoke the truth. Their marriage didn't only solidify their relationship, but it protected her from solicitors who might've been tempted to try giving her advances after the news of Virric's death had been propagated, and by taking Astarion's last name, she was free from any remaining links to her family, a name she detached herself from completely years ago already, now legally unbinded.

She didn't even need to explain the extent of her reasoning; the second she proposed, Astarion was on his way to commission matching rings for them. Truth be told, he had wanted to make the proposal himself, but after knowing of her past with Virric, he didn’t dare bring it up first. She did give him the chance to announce the news at their next soiree, and it's the only thing he had spoken about that evening.

They would be Aeterna Amantes. Lovers forever, until the world burns down.

Gods know that he would burn the world down himself if she merely asked — not that she would ever, he knew her better than that — and she was the only one he would ever get on his knees for.

She was the goddess who finally answered his prayers that had gone unanswered all these years ago; the sun that made him feel alive once more; the brightest star that guided him throughout the night; the very reason he decided to live on, and yet, if it came to it, he knew he would die for her.

Pars avant l'aube

Quand la lumière veut nous voir

Quelque part dans le monde

Un oiseau s'endort sans bruit

Toi et moi

Dans la nuit on trouvera

Quelque part où déposer

Les fleurs qu'on a cueillies

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79

#my posts #my writing #fic: die for you #ascended astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #bg3 #ao3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #writers on tumblr #astarion smut #Spotify

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queenofbaws · 6 months ago

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! Pride Month Challenge 2024 !

Well hi there, everyone! With May winding down to a close and June just around the corner, it's about that time again...the time where @jadedsunshine, @unicornaffair, and I host our yearly create-a-thon! 🥳

What's the Pride Month Challenge, you might find yourself asking? Well, this year it's a little bingo game we've put together, featuring some classic tropes. The aim of this particular game? Make something!!! Anything! Just get those creative juices a-flowin' and see if you can snag a B-I-N-G-O along the way!

This challenge is open to everyone and anyone who wants to take part, whether you know the three of us or not! We're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for the stuff we create, so if you decide to join in on the fun and games, feel free to stick that tag on whatever you make, too! If you're interested in more details, you can check below the cut or reach out and ask ;)c

Either way, happy almost-pride, and happy creating!!!

I don't write fic - can I still participate?

Ab. So. Lutely!!! We've done this challenge for a few years now (we've missed a year or two for weddings and other life stuff, whoops!), but in the past we've had people doodle, sketch, draw, make edits, create props or other physical art, and even curate playlists! The three of us are writers, so you're very likely to see fic or ficlets from us...but you? Oh. Oh, you can do whatever your heart desires!!!

Are there word limits/expectations for a finished product?

NO!!! :D Zero. Literally zero expectations. We aren't putting together an exchange, we aren't holding a competition, we're just trying to get the spirit of creation in the air. That's it! So whether you're writing 50 words or 5,000, whether you've made a rough sketch on a notebook page or fully lined/colored a scene, you're good! You're so good. As long as you've made something, you've earned a stamp on that bingo card, baby!!!

What if I don't want to do something fandom-y? Can it be OCs/original work?

OF COURSE!!! 100%. You don't even have to ask!!! Show the world your OCs! Tell the world about your story's worldbuilding! It's all fair game :)

What if I don't want to post what I made?

Don't sweat it! Again, this is...the farthest thing from official. This is for fun, and this is for the sake of making something. Sharing your work can be nerve-wracking - don't feel like you have to! We'd love to see you playing along with us, of course, but as long as you've made something that you're proud of, you've earned that stamp! No ifs, ands, or buts!

Is it cool if my creations aren't necessarily pride-themed?

Totally! We host this challenge during pride month because (1) it traditionally works better for the three of us than NaNoWriMo because of our schedules, and (2) we're queer creators ourselves! But if you're feeling a prompt and can't find a way to make it relevant to pride, PLEASE don't sweat it! As I've been known to say (and then get laughed at for saying), this challenge is no rules, just right, Outback Steakhouse :P

Let's say I get a bingo...what do I win?

:) Nothing. <3

Wait, really?

:) Really <3 Hehehe, in all seriousness, this challenge has been a fun way for us to sit down, take our minds off of life and our bigger projects and just...make some fun stuff! In our humble opinion(s), being able to point at a finished piece and say "I did that! I made that!" is its own kind of reward. The bingo board itself is really more for bragging rights ;)c Which, of course, we encourage wholeheartedly. Nothing wrong with a little bragging!!!

We hope to have you along for our month-long adventure! Again, we're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for our own stuff, so if you'd like to use that tag - or tag any of us!!! - in whatever you end up creating, feel free!!! We love seeing what everyone comes up with, and this challenge is always so much more fun, knowing other people are taking part! <3 Hope to see you along for the ride!

*The bingo board was made by the lovely @jadedsunshine 🥰

#pridemonthchallenge2024 #queenie writes challenge stuff #<- i'll also be sticking that tag onto the things /i/ make personally in case anyone wants to blacklist or keep an eye out!#PLEASE feel free to reblog and PLEASE feel even freer to play along at home!!!#we love doing this challenge so so much and we're so excited to get back into it!!!

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autumnslance · 6 months ago

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In reference to this post I reblogged earlier, but don't want to muck up UC's activity:

#i think it's more important to see that redemption is in the eye of the beholder #not everybody (characters or real people) will accept the same type or amount of repentance for the same sins #some people might not care at all if the person who wronged them feels sorry; only if they materially repaid their crimes #others can feel the opposite #and either way that's their prerogative #you can disagree with the characters or the fans or the writers about who “deserves” OR has “achieved” redemption and that's okay #because it's ultimately a complex philosophical issue #like i agree with OP!!! but there's media literacy in accepting that not everyone will

I'm going to disagree with many of these tags, especially it being "in the eye of the beholder" and would argue it's more media literate to recognize when a character has a workable redemption arc even if one disagrees they "should" get one. It took me a long time to learn this cuz of how we're usually taught redemption = forgiveness in Western (especially very Christianized, and especially if explicitly raised Christian) culture:

It doesn't rely on anyone but the person seeking redemption.

Yeah, it's the wronged party's prerogative to never forgive, to think the perpetrator's atonement (and/or punishment) is not enough and never will be. Anyone (characters and actual people) who sympathize, and who are on their side, can agree it's not ever enough and that character/person's sins are unforgivable.

And that still doesn't matter to their redemption.

We have an example of a workable redemption arc that not all accept in Final Fantasy XIV with Fordola's situation, through the Endwalker healer role quests. She was raised a collaborator of Ala Mhigo's imperial occupiers, and thought the best way to help her people was to soldier for the empire, becoming their Butcher.

In the Stormblood patches, Raganfrid says he will never forgive her; he thanks her for the aid she gave in the throne room that day, but that's all. And even in the EW healer role quests, their interactions are complicated. He still can't forgive the collaborators, even as he works to reintegrate them into Ala Mhigan society. He recognizes many thought they had no choice. He can't, won't, forget the pain of losing his own loved ones to them. This is stated multiple times.

And others, like M'rahz, Sarisha, and M'naago also struggle, also say they won't forgive...but reluctantly agree they can understand how for the sake of their families, the collaborators felt pushed against a wall, and what lengths have they themselves gone to for their own families? M'naago even scolds Fordola: she doesn't get to give up, she has to keep working--or she dies as exactly what everyone said she was.

Fordola starts out as the one punished for her sins. Through the story, she makes her choices to change and fight and work for her people as a free woman. There are still those who despise the Butcher, and always will. Redemption comes from Fordola's actions, Fordola's choices. Who forgives her and who doesn't can't change that she has changed, and continues to do so.

And in the interest of fairness, for the opposite of Fordola, we have Laurentius. In A Realm Reborn, he collaborated with the empire, selling out his nation. He came out of his punishment wanting a new chance, so joined the Crystal Braves...and immediately fell under Ilberd's sway. While others remained loyal and stuck to their morals (and paid for it with imprisonment or even death), Laurentius went along with all of Ilberd's plans. And in the end, the player gets an opinion in the punishment he and his comrade face, but it's clear from talking to Raubahn there isn't much hope. Laurentius had his chances, but he didn't make any effort to actually change--so faced the consequences.

For Reference for the Healer Role Quests: Garland Tools Healer quest text starting with "Far From Free", and my own saved text in Gdocs (raw, not very organized compared to my later saved/updated docs).

(Nero's the war criminal who...didn't even get a slap on the wrist, he just waltzed into a leadership meeting 15 mins late with Starbucks and has been helping us save the world since. Gaius is the war criminal that went through traumas, saw his privileged preconceptions torn apart, and is starting down that road in the wake of Werlyt to clean up his mistakes and not let his children's sacrifices be in vain. None of these characters "need" punishment to decide to change; some of it simply happens as part of their stories, but they make their own choices and actions toward atonement.)

(Also redemption is usually an ongoing process, which is why "Death Equals Redemption", like how Yotusyu's situation is framed, is so dicey and often unsatisfying; are they actually changed, or they just getting out of putting in that effort to? Nothing indicated Yotsuyu actually cared to change, as sympathetic as she was in the end! But she has her redemptive moment for her fans, and the people who hate/won't forgive her also "win"--the trope is a "have your cake and eat it too" writing cop-out IMO at this point.)

#final fantasy xiv #endwalker #stormblood #role quests #redemption #character arcs #fordola rem lupis #raganfrid bleaker #laurentius daye #yotsuyu ge brutus #I also blame everyone touting Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender as a 'good redemption arc'#when from the start he's a protagonist on the wrong side making bad choices & failing at them cuz he's not as evil as Zhao & Azula & Ozai #he's an antagonist to Team Avatar for much of it yes but he's also in a dual position as we follow his exploits as much as the Gaang #Zuko makes mistakes he has to apologize & make up for but as mixed up as that kid was he never actually hit murderous war criminal #heck his story starts cuz he was trying to protect soldiers from being needlessly sacrificed by actual warmongers #so Zuko the kids show character is Palatable & easy to forgive cuz he's always been sympathetic & Trying to do right but failing at it #but anyone 'worse' than traumatized teen navigating dangerous & toxic situations trying to do what's right w/out knowing what that is - SOL #cuz so many people have never expanded thinking about morality beyond that kids show

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bloopitynoot · 27 days ago

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11 Wangxian Fics Where Wei Ying is Raised by Others

This list is brought to you by the winning option in my latest wangxian reclist poll.

This list will include fics in which:

WY is raised by a person/persons other than the Jiangs

Wangxian become a thing

because it's me it will have happy endings BUT they may include a bunch of angst before then because I am masochistic

are all "tried and true" meaning I have read and love all of the fics included

If you would like a personalized wangxian list- pls feel free to DM! I love making and sharing them!

1 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) (58881 words) by Reverie

Chapters: 40/40 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: POV Nie Mingjue, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Joining the "Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect" Club, Mentions of WWX's life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang & Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Protective Nie Mingjue, a plot showed up, Sunshot Campaign (Modao Zushi), Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, nielan, Found Family, do not repost to another site Series: Part 1 of Untamed Fics & Prompts, Part 1 of Different Sect Wei Wuxian AUs Summary: This was why he didn’t like to leave the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue thought with dismay. Guileless dark eyes blinked up at him, tiny hands clutching at his robes. Or: Nie Mingjue comes across Wei Wuxian before Jiang Fengmian and decides Nie Huaisang could use a friend. A/N: Y'ALL I FORGOT 50 SHADES OF GREY EXISTED. Please note there is NO relation whatsoever to that dumpster fire of a "book." Title has been updated so there's hopefully no association anymore, because yikes.

NOTES: This was the first WY is adopted by someone else fic that I read and I immediately fell in love. You'll notice on this list I have a bunch in which the Nie's adopt WY and that is most definitely because I am SOFT for Mingjue. Something just hits different about single dad Mingjue and his two hot messes of children/siblings.

2 The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen (138813 words) by KouriArashi

Chapters: 30/30 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin/Wen Qing, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Wēn Qíng & Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, this fic's got it all, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Revenge, Families of Choice, Sibling Bonding, Mutual Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Everybody Lives Summary: The fic where Wei Wuxian is adopted by the Dafan Mountain Wens instead of the Yunmeng Jiang.

NOTES: This fic was surprisingly delightful! Yes there are intense moments of angst- ofc there would be with Wei Ying basically being adopted by the wens. But the boy is absolutely brilliant in this and the ending is lovely. Also, we get big sister Wen Qing which- MY HEART. What a BAMF.

3 Building a home (586482 words) by R95irth

Chapters: 110/110 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Cangse Sanren/Wei Changze, Jiang Fengmian/Yu Ziyuan, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin/Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli/Jin Zixuan, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao/Nie Mingjue, Baoshan Sanren / Lan Yi, Meng Shi/ Sisi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Okay maybe some will die, Some like Wen Chao?, Angst with a Happy Ending, Horror, Nightmares, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete list of ships in the serie summary, Family Fluff, Found Family, Babies, Untamed heroes are babies, Basically only no-canon-named people or bad people might die?, Like the trope but also lost and found family in the literal sense, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, but not done by the Lotus Pier squad, Also JGS exists so canon related things linked to him, Same goes for Lan parents Series: Part 1 of Home is where your heart is Summary: This was supposed to be an easy night hunt. They left Wei Ying at an Inn, and wanted to be back before sunrise. Instead they find themselves at the door of Lotus Pier, in the middle of the night, wounded, and their son, their beautiful son, injured. Things did not go as planned. Maybe, because, it is time to change their plan. Maybe it is time to stop wandering, to stop running away from the man they hurt, maybe it's time to heal. Maybe it is time to build a home. It's over!! See you on Burning roofs : the next installement!! Spanish translation is now available : https://archiveofourown.org/works/28693317 Russian translation is now available : https://ficbook.net/readfic/11789571

NOTES: letting you know In advance- the rest of the series is not complete HOWEVER, it is still worth it to read this fic as a standalone! This was such a cool story. Yes, WY is technically still with the Jiang BUT raised by his parents. There is some sneaky time travel(?) things, and demonic cultivation things, and ADORABLE baby wangxian. This was kind of wholesome with a bit of mystery. I truly hope the author completes the series because it is so wonderful.

4 forces of attraction (20925 words) by bleuett

Chapters: 4/4 Rating: Mature Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Song Lan | Song Zichen/Xiao Xingchen Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Romantic Comedy, of sorts, Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi), au where wwx was raised by Boashan Sanren, Idiots in Love, Developing Relationship, Accidental Marriage, Sharing a Bed, everyone's gay uncles sl and xxc, secret matchmaker lxc, Fluff, No War AU, Hand Jobs, lan wangji's fight flight or fuck instincts, the inherent horniness of sword fighting, Happy Ending Summary: Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian, rogue cultivator and disciple of Baoshan Sanren, and Lan Wangji is simultaneously annoyed and infatuated with him. “You are not here to be entertained,” Lan Wangji bites back. Wei Wuxian has the nerve to laugh. “I’m not here to learn either, I already know everything we’re going to be taught in these lectures. If you’re not going to entertain me, I’ll entertain myself, gege.” “Wei Wuxian!” Lan Wangji yells, barely maintaining his composure as his ears flame red. Wei Wuxian’s laughter rings through the Cloud Recesses and breaks about a dozen rules. “Call me Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, we’re going to be best friends!” Wei Wuxian replies, tugging at the sleeve of Lan Wangji’s robe with two fingers in a scissoring motion before he runs off in a flow of white robes and inappropriate laughter.

NOTES: If you love WY, chaos gremlin, you will LOVE this fic. This is the au in which WY is raised on the immortal's mountain and then makes his first appearance off of it at the lectures in cloud recesses. Bless Lan Wangji for his patience, RIP Lan Qiren's qi LOL It is a no war au with so much joy and romance.

5 Heart of the Beast (488986 words) by WaitForTheSnitch

Chapters: 109/109 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang & Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Nie Mingjue & Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen & Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang & Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin/Nie Huaisang, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao/Nie Mingjue, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao/Nie Mingjue, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao Additional Tags: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Adopted Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian is a Nie, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Deserves Better, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Deserves Happiness, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Deserves Love, Protective Nie Mingjue, Scheming Nie Huaisang, Protective Nie Huaisang, Soft Nie Mingjue, Nie Mingjue is So Done, Nie Huaisang is a Little Shit, Pining Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji Has Feelings Summary: “Wei Ying?” Nie Mingjue prompted him gently. “Where are your parents?” “They went on a night hunt,” Wei Ying said, a bit evasively. “Your parents are cultivators?” Da-ge asked in surprise. “Did they leave you here while they hunted? When did they go on their night hunt?” “Four summers ago,” Wei Ying said a bit uncomfortable. “Four summers ago,” Nie Mingjue repeated. “What are your parents’ names?” “My mama is Cangse Sanren and my baba is Wei Changze,” Wei Ying told him, and recognition registered in Nie Mingjue’s eyes. “Wei Ying,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding a bit regretful, “Your parents aren’t coming back.” Or, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang run into Wei Ying while in Yiling and decide to bring him home. And it changes everything.

NOTES: This is one BEEFY boy, but absolutely worth the read. WY really deserves all the good things and does eventually get them in this fic. It is very much a canon divergence but WY is adopted by the Nie's. I truly could not get enough reading this. Yes there is some angst, but WY has so much more respect this time around :'3

6 Phoenix and the Ash (280378 words) by cytheriafalas

Chapters: 51/51 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao/Nie Mingjue, Song Lan | Song Zichen/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei Characters: literally everyone Additional Tags: Everyone's favorite: A good old-fashioned prostitute AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Trauma, trauma for everyone, you get a redemption arc and YOU get a redemption arc, canonical Lan falling in love way too fast, slow burn but only in the sense of Circumstances Get In The Way, Because again: Canonical Lan falling in love way too fast, Platonic(?) bed sharing, Hair brushing as sign of affection Summary: At the request of the Nie, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji investigate allegations about murders in a brothel in Qishan. Lan Wangji meets Yiling Laozu, and everyone discovers very quickly that murders at a brothel are the very least of what is happening. Started out as an homage to Kushiel's Legacy and ended with a war. Fully written, fully edited, chapters coming weekly—maybe biweekly, if I'm feeling particularly spicy.

NOTES: WARNING: this is such a heavy fic. It was truly hard to read, but the ending is very good I promise. CW: So much abuse, sexual assault, kidnapping, sexual slavery, non-consent. It does get better but I did cry a fuck-ton reading this. This is the AU in which the dafan wen's (they are enslaved and work in a brothel owned by Ruohan and co) take in WY from childhood and he is basically groomed by Wen Ruohan and squad to be their most deviant customer's favourite sex worker (he is tortured for their pleasure i cannot state how terrible it was). BUT He does get a very happy ending, lots of mental health and physical support and it does end with Wangxian in the softest of ways. I know I spoked a lot about the trauma but it was very good I promise.

7 We Meet at the Thousandth Step (315914 words) by Rynne, Admiranda

Chapters: 44/44 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Cangse Sanren/Wei Changze Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign (Modao Zushi), Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze Live, Rogue Cultivator Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Night Hunts (Modao Zushi), Genius Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Inventor Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, Wei Wuxian's Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Wei Wuxian Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Honeymoon, Wangxian's Baby Fever Series: Part 1 of The Different Paths We Tread Summary: As they both go wherever the chaos might be, Lan Wangji and rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian, eldest child of the famous Cangse-sanren, find their paths converging. Soon they'll discover in each other the perfect partner for night hunting…and beyond.

NOTES: In which WY's parents did NOT die and he is raised as a rogue cultivator with them (and his sibling!). This is the most sweetest, fluffy, romance between rogue cultivator WY and the esteemed second jade of Lan. Honestly this is a soul cleansing fic. I am pretty sure I have rec'd it before, but I will continue to do so because it is adorable. Bonus- parental teasing from Cansge Sanren and Wei Changze!

8 what builds a home (45953 words) by Stratisphyre

Chapters: 4/4 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao & Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Meng Shi (Modao Zushi), Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Mo Xuanyu, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Adopted Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death Summary: Two children, Meng Shi decides, cannot possibly be that much more work than one. On the run from the Jin, Meng Shi encounters another young boy in need of love, a family and a home.

NOTES: This is one of my favourtie premises I have come across and I am so glad I read it. Meng Shi is fleeing the brothel and the Jin cultivators after her with her son. In an alley in yilling she finds orphaned Wei Ying- what's one more (well more than one- we get some baby Xuanyu!) child to raise? In this AU WY is not a cultivator but brilliant with talismans, wangxian still happens (the most romantic first meet), and the jins have the day they deserve in the end. So sweet!

9 All will be well when the day is done (76082 words) by abCEE

Chapters: 8/8 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sort Of, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan Bashing, Yu Ziyuan Bashing, Definitely not Yu Ziyuan centric, Fix it for our main characters, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives (Modao Zushi), No Sunshot Campaign (Modao Zushi), Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin Bashing, non-yunmeng wei wuxian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle Lan Qiren, OOC, No Beta, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Get a Happy Ending, Wei Wuxian gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mainly CQL but has elements of the novel as well, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY Summary: The one where Yu Ziyuan time traveled but she thought that it was her visions of her alternate life. She learned that there is a brat named Wei Ying who brought destruction to her and her family's life. And so in her present, she vowed that she will never allow that to happen. In which Yu Ziyuan found the four-year-old Wei Ying, newly pushed out of the inn where his parents left him, and decided that no, this child must never be associated with her, her family, and their sect at all. And so Yu Ziyuan thought that she could bring him somewhere where someone may or may not find him but definitely far from where her husband could find him. If he's lucky, he'll survive that winter, if he's not, then death awaits the fevered child. This is the extent of mercy that Yu Ziyuan could give a child. With this, she'll raise her children without having to deal with a brat that brings trouble where he goes according to her visions of her alternate life. Like the tag stated, this is definitely not Yu Ziyuan centric.

NOTES: Listen, I know this is more of a time travel fic (loosely) BUT it still results in WY being raised in the Lan sect (good uncle lan qiren fics are my life blood). The three jades of lan have a MUCH better time, wangxian romance, the war is averted, and we get a sneaky little twist in the end! A solid fic.

10 Going on charmingly (21238 words) by scribbet

Chapters: 4/4 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Teenage Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans (Modao Zushi), Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi), Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian is Baoshan Sanren's Disciple, Genius Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Petty Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Meddling Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, What if Lan Wangji didn't have an excuse to instantly write Wei Wuxian off?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jiang Fengmian Doesn't Adopt Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian minus canon sense of obligation, but still with an inability to shut up around Lan Wangji, Jin Zixun is unfortunately present but only to lose face, Lan Qiren's inconsistent adherence to the Lan clan precepts, writing the effective Lan education you would like to see in the world, Technically pre-relationship - Freeform, but in the typical Wangxian way of them being in deep but just not acknowledging it yet, POV Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, I swear Lan Wangji's inner voice was not quite so snarky when I started this Summary: He pulled the door open smoothly, leaving the noisemaker with their fist still raised mid-knock. He could glimpse white robes underneath a thick and practical-looking travel cloak, but surely no member of his sect would think to barge in upon him in such a way. “Hello!” the interloper exclaimed, a bright smile coming into view as he lifted the sopping veils away to one side. “Would you happen to know how to reach the Cloud Recesses?” Or, a teenage Wei Wuxian arrives at the Lan sect as a (mostly) respected disciple of the Immortal Baoshan Sanren instead of the well-known troublemaker of Yunmeng Jiang. Lan Wangji learns to come to terms with this (eventually).

NOTES: WY was raised by Baoshan Sanren and turns up at cloud recesses once he descends the mountain. This was a cute read and doesn't really dig deep into wangxian as a couple but it is the story of them falling in love (adorable). I love a good Gusu study arc and this was very much that.

11 The Light That Fails to Dim (310880 words) by glowingreverie

Chapters: 81/81 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, tags will be updated as the story goes on, Mild Gore Summary: Wei Ying lost his parents in a night hunt. Cold and alone, he wandered the streets of Yiling for nearly two years. However, one fateful night, a tall, scary man finds him and takes him back to a place he calls Qinghe. Later Wei Ying, now known as Wei Wuxian, discovers that that tall, scary man is not bad at all. And his cowardly brother makes an even better friend than he initially thought he would. With a content feeling in his chest every day, Wei Wuxian can only hope these peaceful, happy days with his new family will last until the end of time. Or, in which Jiang Fengmian is unaware of what happened to Wei Wuxian's parents and Nie Mingjue takes him in and the story continues from there…

NOTES: Another sweet sweet Nie sect adopts WY fic. This fic really broke my heart i'm not going to lie pals. It does have a very happy ending but it also includes 16 years of WY away from civilization (he is not dead but is in the burial mounds fixing some things that happen to him). It is worth it for the happy ending- AND it includes some cute bonus chapters!

#bloopitynoots wangxian recs #wangxian rec list #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #adopted wei ying #wei ying is adopted #or raised by not the jiangs #these fics are all so solid #i will forever recommend them #mdzs recs #mdzs fanfiction

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juminies · 7 months ago

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🔁 tom reblogged

📱 generictexter mutuals

Um I just found an iphone on the street and some guy is texting it telling me to go to an apartment nearby. Might die but he's kind of hot and I'm feeling wild so

#Has anyone heard from her? I'm a little worried! #UPDATE: my friend texted me to let me know she's fine :)

📷 V following

🔁 eattherich reblogged princesshan

🔆 eattherich

it's actually insane how many fans jumin han has considering his dad is literally the chairman of a global conglomerate. do you realise how much money these people have that they could be putting to better use

🎀 princesshan follow

op doesn't realise the money is part of the appeal

🔆 eattherich follow

the money is why everyone at the top of C&R is also at the top of the 'to eat' list

#i can't even begin to form a response to prev tags #also inb4 you say something like 'j*min will be eating something else iykwim' #moving on!

anonymous asked:

if 'lordofthecattower' joins your party block them they'll throw

🧙‍♂️ supermanyoosung mutuals

Wait that's my friend T-T I know he's not great but it's ok! We all start somewhere!!!

#me and our other friend have been trying to teach him! #i didn't even know he was playing without me lololol

🐈 catprotect following

Remempurr our fundraiser is tomorrow everyone! Please feel free to bring along any well behaved kitties but gentle reminder that they must be kept either within a carrier or on a leash. We would hate any accidents!

See you there!

🌟 idolpage follow

anyone else think that soloist that just debuted looks scarily like the president

#delete later

🎭 zenlover7 mutuals

It must be so hard for Zen's friends not to hit on him every time he sends them selfies T_T T_T

🤍 thezenryu following

Haha you flatter me but I'm mostly friends with guys!

🔁 princesshan reblogged eattherich

🔆 eattherich follow

🎀 princesshan follow

op doesn't realise the money is part of the appeal

#he's also insanely hot but i digress !! #...and don't quote me on this but his dad could kinda get it too 👀

⚔️ lololfiend follow

we can't decide in the gc so

#league of loneliness of life #lolol

💒 lostlover follow

has anyone heard of "mint eye" I just got handed a flyer for it but it's so vague and I can't find anything online lmao. are they trying to recruit me into a cult or something

#he also gave me some sort of drink(?) but if it's from a cult I don't really want to drink it #mutuals lmk if I should do a taste test

🎬 zenupdates mutuals

Zen selfie from today (via an anonymous source).

#mystic messenger #dashboard simulator #this was so entertaining to make

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littlespacereader · 1 year ago

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Can I request cg!spiderpunk with spidey! little reader who starts having accidents in littlespace and she's rlly embarrassed cause she's a hero? Thanks! Feel free to ignore!

Heck no I’m not gonna to ignore!! I absolutely LOVE this idea!! This is such a huge issue a Regressor superhero might have! Trying to save the world but what if you need someone to save your world?! What if an accident happens while fighting crime?! I couldn’t love this idea more! So I hope you enjoy this fic! Feel free to send me another idea!!

The Little Spidey

Caregiver! Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) & Spidey Fem Little! Reader

Tags: an accident, pull-ups, fighting, stuffies, hiding/reveal of regression, sippy cups, stuffie,hurt&comfort

Nicknames: darling, sweet one, love

Alright let’s do this one last time.

My name is Y/N L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for 3 years I’ve been the one and only Spider-Girl.

Thats is, until I realized there’s a whole multiverse full of different Spider people! Recently I became a part of this Spider-verse, which had its ups and downs.

My universe was completely different from everyone else’s, which took some getting used to. In my universe Age Regession was a normal every day thing for people. It wasn’t shamed at or thought of the wrong way.

I’m one of the age regressors in my universe. I regress really young so on missions I usually wear a pull-up, just in case I begin to regress or can’t find a bathroom in time. And trust me, with the long hours of crime fighting, this has come in handy on numerous occasions.

My suit is designed by yours truly. It has a special feature that wearing a bulky pull-up or diaper isn’t shown. It just looks like a normal Spidey suit. I carry a backpack with me at all times with supplies for myself and some extra gear for missions.

Because regression it wasn’t mainstream in most of the other universes, I kept it to myself. That way I wouldn’t have to embarrass myself infront of the other Spideys. There were some universes where regression was just a normal every day thing like mine but those were rare to find, and it was hard to ask incase the answer was no.

After joining, I quickly became friends with Hobie and Pav, my two best friends. The three of us would travel to different universes and kick some butt together! We really worked well as a team!

Pav always strikes me as a Regressor. But I never have the courage to ask him in fear of him asking me if I’m one.

I often visited Earth-50101 to see Pav and spent time in Mumbattan. But I spend most of my time with Hobie in Earth-138 London.

Hobie and I are the closest. He made me feel welcomed the moment I joined the group. Miguel and Jess can be a bit intimidating at times, but Hobie always takes me under his wing.

He makes me feel comfortable and he never lets anyone yell or order me around. He’s a very free spirited freedom fighter. In London I watched his concerts with his band and in my universe we got ice cream together. He’s versatile.He also has the coolest Spidey moves with his guitar! It’s sick!!

He introduced me to Pavitr. Now the three of us hang out all the time! And when we’re not hanging out we’re fighting crime together!

Despite our close friendship I’ve kept my regression hidden from them. When they come over I just hide all my little gear and when we’re out I fight my hardest not to regress.

So with my regression under wraps I continue to fight crime now not only in Queens, NY but in the multiverse as well! Nothing can go wrong!…….Or so I thought.

~~~

Today was my day off, if that’s even possible for a Spidey. I decided today I’m going to regress and relax the rest of the evening. Hobie is practicing with his band, Pav is on a date with his girlfriend and my watch hasn’t gone off with a new mission. So I’m taking a me day.

I ran to my bed room and grabbed the box from underneath. I ripped the box open and grabbed my favorite stuffie and pacifier immediately. Then I had a choice of sippy cup: am I feeling princess or hearts today? Ummmmmmmm…….hearts!

With my things in hand, I walked into the kitchen. As I washed and filled my sippy cup I started to ramble off everything that’s been going on to my stuffie. Gotta let him know all the juice crime fighting details.

Then I made my way to the couch, plopping infront of the tv to watch hours and hours of cartoons. And hours and hours and hours…..

I woke up some time later to the buzzing of my watch. I quickly jumped up and spit my pacifier out before answering.

“Y/N! Where have you been? We been trying to contact you.” Jess aka Spider-Woman yelled at me.

“Sorry I was asleep after a long day. What’s up?”

“We got another anomaly. Suit up we’ll be there soon to pick you up.” And with that the call hung up.

Be there soon?!?!?!

I immediately started to shove everything under my couch or in the couch cushions. Then I ran into my bedroom to get changed fast! I quickly suited up but not without pausing in my bathroom.

I forgot a pull-up, how stupid of me let me just-

Suddenly I heard a portal open in my living room. “Y/N! Where you at?” Hobie yelled out.

I eyed the pull-up and then the door. It’s okay, it probably won’t be a long mission anyway. Just in and out and I’ll be back before I know it. I’m totally not feeling Little in the slightest so I should be fine without protection. Wait who am I lying to?

With that little pep talk I stormed out of my bathroom, grabbing my back pack on the way, and greeted everyone in my living room. There stood Jess and Hobie ready for the next mission.

“How was practice?”

Hobie rolled his eyes, “Don’t get me started! What practice? I was two second from going on when these guys called.”

“Don’t they know you’re trying to be an artist!” I said all dramatically.

He laughed and smirked, “Oh darling don’t you know? I’m already an artist.”

“Come on you two, we got a mission to complete.” Jess redirected.

The three of us set our watches to Earth-3624 and then we took off into the portal.

~~~

The mission is simple, or should I say was simple. There was a Doctor Octopus found in the wrong universe. We were tasked with finding him and sending him to the right Earth. Only problem is he was somewhere in the middle of NYC. So we had all of NYC to find him…just the four of us…looking for one person…in all of NY.

If you’re saying to yourself “Wow that sounds impossible” you’re totally right.

The night began to drag on and on and on. I was exhausted from the constant searching for hours on end. It didn’t help I was also fighting myself from regressing. But as the night dragged on it seemed Doctor Octopus was winning and I was losing.

My regression nagged at me every single moment. All I wanted to do was find a place to curl up, grab my pacifier and take a nap. But I couldn’t! Not now! I had a job to do!

What didn’t help the most was the nagging feeling of needing to go to the bathroom. I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, I should’ve gone before I left. But I was in a rush! I didn’t even know I had to go! Now I’m sitting on the roof squirming every two seconds.

Everything was so frustrating! I’m stuck on some stupid Earth looking for stupid Doctor Octopus in the middle of the stupid night!!…..Okay, maybe my regression was kicking in more than I thought it was.

“Hey,” Hobie swung up onto the roof I was sitting on. “How’s the search going?”

“It’s going.” I said a bit frustrated. “How about you?”

“About the same.” Hobie said, sitting on the edge of the roof next to me.

“I can’t believe they got us working this ridiculous mission. You think Miguel and Jess could just handle this on their own. But noooooo. Instead they pull the two of us in the middle of the night to try and find this wackjob.” I ranted away.

“That’s right Y/N! Stick it to the man! Let that frustration out.” Hobie smirked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I started to squirm in place a bit. I crossed my arms infront of my chest in an effort to mask it.

Hobie eyed me curious but didn’t say anything about it. “I know Jess is searching on the upper east side. I just wanted to join you midtown and make sure you’re doing alright.”

“I’m doing okay. Tired but okay.” I tried to reassure him. But I felt as though he could see right through me. Before he said another word I changed the subject.

“I don’t understand how we’re supposed to find Doc Oct in all of New York.” I said dramatically.

Hobie laughed. “Yeah, what do they expect? Him to come to us?”

The moment those words left Hobie’s mouth we both felt it, our Spidey sense. Of course we jinxed ourselves.

We flipped backward and just out of range for a giant sign that was flying towards us. I landed back on the roof and looked over to an adjacent building. There, standing bold as ever was none other than Doctor Octopus.

“Hello Peters.” He smirked.

Hobie swung over first. “Yeah you’re wrong on both fronts mate.” He swung his guitar at him, landing a nice blow sending the Doctor backwards.

“Once you go against one Spider-Man you go against them all.” He swung his arms again, this time hitting Hobie and sending him backwards.

Now I stepped up, running up, casting my webs and swinging full force towards the doctor. I managed to wrap one of his arms up, but while I did he grabbed me with another. With my leg trapped in his claw, he leaned back and threw me to the roof of a building next to him.

The back of my head hit the ground hard and for a moment I was seeing stars. I was drifting, I wanted to get up and help but my body just wouldn’t let me. I started to fade into darkness for a moment. Both in and out of consciousness.

It was at this time my regression decided to give in. Choosing for itself that it needed to regress more than anything else. What tipped it over the most was the warm feeling I started to feel between my legs. Tears started to fall from my eyes as I realized I was having an accident.

Then came the float gates. My regression wrapped around me like a warm blanket, trying to comfort me in a time of pain and embarrassment. I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here with my wet suit and headache! I just want to go to sleep with my stuffie at home, my pacifier and my pull-up.

I shut my eyes, not wanting more tears to escape. I had to get up, I had keep fighting. What kind of hero would o be if I couldn’t.

“Y/N? Hey! Y/N! Are you okay?” Hobie’s voice echoed in the background. I could hear his footsteps as he ran over to me.

Oh no. Nonononono!

Hobie and I caught eyes the moment I opened mine. He saw everything already. How could I explain the puddle beneath me or the tears streaming down my face?! I’m supposed to be a hero, someone who takes care of others. But I can’t even take care of myself.

There Hobie stood, not disgusting or confused, but worried and concerned about me. “Awwww sweet one-.”

“I’m fine.” I said with a cracking voice. Tears still fell from my eyes as embarrassment filled me.

I tried to sit up fast but he stopped. “Wow wow wow there darling you might have a concussion. Easy does it, easy now.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and helped me to sit up slowly.

He sat beside me, letting me lean on him for support.

I tried my hardest to talk between crying, “ I-I can explain…it just…just-”

“You’re a Little? I figured as much. No need to worry yourself with worries. You’re okay, it’s all okay love. I’ll take care of everything.” He said plain as day.

Maybe it was the concussion. “What?” Was all I managed to say.

“You know, on my Earth everyone knows about regression. It’s more common than you would think. Plenty of Earths know about regression, even if they aren’t as open about as our Earth’s are.” He went on to explain.

“But all of that doesn’t matter right now. Right now we need to get you changed and padded. Then we need to take care of you and your concussion.” Hobie threw his guitar to his back and lifted me bridal style into his arms.

“Wait.” I tried to say.

“What?” He raised an eye brow.

“Don’t we have to get the bad guy?”

“The bad guy? First off, I don’t listen or do what anyone tells me, especially Jess or Miguel. Second off, I already too care of that for us.” He gestured to the roof across from us. There all webbed up stood Doctor Octopus.

“I already phoned Jess who’s on her way to take care of the boring details. I say we get a move on before she starts ask questions we’re not going to answer.” He explained.

After a moment I nodded my head, wrapping my arms around his neck. With the click of his watch Hobie and I were soaring into another portal.

Before I even realized it we were back in my apartment. Hobie walked us into my bathroom, setting me down on the counter top. Then he began to search around.

“Where are your pull-ups at Y/N?” He asked searching under the sink.

To be honest, I was still in shock from this day. Blame it on the concussion but I couldn’t even fathom that this is even happening.

As I watched him raid my bathroom I spoke up, “What are you doing?”

“I just told you I’m looking for your pull-ups.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He stood up and walked back over to me, “Because we need to get you changed before you get a rash or worse.”

I stared at him, still in disbelief. “Why are you doing this for me? How come you don’t think this is weird and why are you being so-.”

He immediately stopped that train of thought by holding my hand in his. “Hey, hey hey. No more worrying about big thoughts okay? Like I said earlier, regression is something I’m familiar with. I’m happy you have an escape from this life as a Spidey. It’s a safe and healthy coping mechanism. I don’t find you or any of this weird. More than anything I want to take care of you.”

“You don’t see me as a weak Spidey because I’m a Little?” I asked, still a bit insecure.

“A weak Spidey?! Hell no!!” He shook his head. “Do you think Pav is a weak Spider-Man?”

I looked at him confused but shook my head no.

“That makes two of us. Pavirt is a Little too. He regresses around the same age as you. Doesn’t matter if you regress, you’re still a Spidey. Don’t get me wrong, I love Pav and I take care of him from time to time when he regresses. But his girlfriend tends to him most the time, I’m just the babysitter. But there’s something special about you. You bring out a side of me that I didn’t know I had.”

He sighed, “I realized early on you were probably a Little, so I kept a careful eye on you. Before you, I was still the cool artist you see before you today. But I was always missing something…something amazing. And I realized that amazing something was you. Without or without your regression. I think you’re truly amazing.”

He leaned forward and took my hand in his, “If you’ll have me, I’d like to take care of you whenever you’re regressed. That way you have someone watching out for you and taking care your needs. I can see you regress pretty young so you’re gonna need a careful eyes watching your trouble maker self.” He smirked.

“So…what do you say?” He asked.

I honestly couldn’t believe my ears. Hobie wants to be my Caregiver?! Also Pav is a Little?!! But mostly, Hobie the “coolest, mysterious, rule breaker” Brown wants to be my Caregiver?!

In disbelief yet happy beyond belief, I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Yes. I’d love for you to be my Caregiver.”

Hobie smirked and squeezed my hand back. “Trust me darling the honor is all mine.”

“But first and foremost let’s get you changed out of that wet suit and into something more comfortable. Now for the final time where are your pull-ups at?” He said dragging the last part out.

“They’re in my backpack.” I shrugged it off and handed it to him.

Hobie took the backpack from me and started to take all the supplies he needs out.

“So you don’t think I’m gross?” I asked, still anxious about the whole accident.

“Nope. You’re a younger Little. Happens all the time. It’s no big deal at all.” He said as if it was nothing. But he’s right, it really is nothing. It’s just an accident. “Alright let’s get you changed darling.”

Hobie helped me take my suit off. He grabbed me a fresh pair of pjs and a new pull-up then proceeded to change me into both.

“There,” he stood back admiring his work. “All nice and cozy!” He picked me up and carried me into the living room. “See? Nothing to worry about. It’s as if it never happened.”

I hugged him tightly in his arms, “Thank you.”

He smirked, “This is just the beginning.”

He carried me over to the couch and set me down. “Hold on, who’s this?” He pulled my stuffie from the couch cushion. “Y/N you didn’t tell me you had a friend over. Introduce to your mate.”

“Hobie this is (your fav stuffie name).” I said introducing the two.

“Pleasure to meet ya.” He said, shaking the stuffies hand. I started giggling.

“Now, I want you resting on this couch. I’m going to get you some juice and a cold compress for your head, okay?”

The moment Hobie left I immediately started to miss him. He’s only been my Caregiver for not even 5 minutes and I’m already so attached to him. Plus he wasn’t even that far! He’s literally just in the kitchen.

Luckily he returned soon, sippy cup of juice in one hand, and a damp towel in the other. “Alright sweet one sit up for a second,” he sat down on the couch and pulled me into his lap. “There we are.”

He laid the towel on my forehead which felt sooooooo nice! He handed me the sippy cup before he grabbed the tv remote. “Alright let’s see what your earth has on the telly.”

I always thought that as Spider-Girl I had to be the one taking care of everyone else, but Hobie made me realized what I needed more than anything was someone to take care of me too.

I haven’t felt safe like this in a long time. Just leaning against him, watching some mindless show on the television and feeling safe and cared for. I curled into his side and rested my head on his shoulder. He leaned forward and placed a kiss to my head.

We stayed like that the whole night, just Little Spidey and Caregiver Spidey.

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nanjokei · 1 year ago

Text

further guidance for newcomers coming from reddit

hi arriving redditors. here are some things i don't see most posts mention. this is for people who conquered the baby steps of joining the site. i think they're pretty important! also me clarifying on some stuff i've seen people word very vaguely consistently in their guides

under the cut because it's a chunky set of bullet points! with a few that also discuss how to keep yourself in a safe and fun browsing environment for yourself and others (mostly quality of life)

if you have any questions either send me an ask (anonymously is ok too) or reply to the post

you can enable a custom theme that shows on the web in your blog settings, if you so wish (blog settings > visibility) and then (custom theme toggle to on) this is the classic tumblr experience, but it's ok to want to hide your blog from the public. however you won't be able to link stuff on your blog to people without tumblr accounts

you can find custom tumblr themes by searching resource blogs like theme hunter or just in the tags in general (like "tumblr theme" or just "theme" and see where the other tags you may find to refine your search takes you)

tumblr is currently trying to enact changes to appeal to "new users" that make the website less friendly to its current inhabitants, such as fucking with quality of life and muscle memory and even stuff integral to the culture of the site. if you see people complaining, i highly advise against going "this sounds kind of nothingburger" and assisting in sending tickets to support the drive against such changes

there is a 250 post per day limit. you probably won't hit it though.. maybe? but people used to make post limit blogs (seperate email) for that. but that is for heavy usage users.

you can make as many sideblogs as you want. you are free to divulge whether or not it's you. of course use common sense to gauge whether or not it matters. but side blogs can be anything: maybe you want to categorize things, maybe you wanna make one into a huge fan page/blog for a specific hobby/celeb/show/game/etc, maybe a quieter space, maybe posts you feel don't belong on your blog, maybe even a blog where you reblog resources to exclusively. the possibilities are endless! (maybe not for porn, it's a little harder to skirt by these days even with muh community labels)

a lot of posts are incredibly vague about whether or not you can leave comments on reblogs. i think it truly depends. for example, if it's praise for artwork, i feel like it is truly best left in the tags. the artist can see it still! it shows up in their notifs when you reblog. in comparison, when it comes to funny text posts and pictures, you can comment as you like, but consider TPO (time place occasion). it helps to check the notes (comments only filter) to see if the quip or comment you wanna make has already been made or if OP made further comments later. again, it's a call to use your judgement and everyone has a different tolerance for this kind of thing

i see many people or perhaps most came from LGBTQ+ centric subreddits so i am surprised i'm not seeing this mentioned often: there are unfortunately a lot of terfs here. please stay safe. install shinigami eyes and engage in blocking sprees whenever possible.

in account settings, not blog settings, there is a section called "content you see". it has filtered tags and filtered post content. the difference is filtered tags is specifically for tags, for example, if you want to hide a certain show you don't like, you can have the site apply a peek-a-boo filter on it (this content contains #TAG, as in click to view). you ask, what if the person on my dash doesn't tag it as that? that's fine! it also takes into account the original poster's tags. the OP didn't tag it? then filtered post content might help. MIGHT. it's pretty helpful and unlike twitter's mute list, as far as my experience, it is not broken. for example, if you write [SHOW NAME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE] in plain letters (with aliases as seperate entries just to be safe) it will filter any post that has the words in the body of the post. pretty useful! use this to curate your dash further or even filter out triggers.

speaking of tags. a lot of people are also vague about this. i'll say it clearly. you can add whatever tags you want to a reblog. there's no limit (aside from character lim per tag)! there's no social faux pas, unless you're being backhanded at someone's creative work, like reblogging just to dunk on it or going "i like the art but not the character" etc. when it comes to your own posts, try to avoid tagging irrelevant tags (for example, if you're making a lot of posts that are tangentially about cardcaptor sakura, think about if it belongs in the tag or not. think of it as whether or not it deserves an OC flair on reddit). again, people's tolerance differs, but especially on older media and slow tags people do not appreciate random tangential text posts (for example "i wanna watch ccs!" and nothing else)

in terms of culture, tumblr has a weird balance between "you can ask for context" and "lurk for 10,000 moar years". i would not know myself. i've been here for 12+ years *shrug* you'll have to gauge it for yourself. most things you can google "[tumblr user] callout" and figure out from there LOL (yes that's usually what happens). i DO encourage trying to garner it from context, especially for terms.

due to the looser moderation(?) on here, LGBTQ+ and other minorities use their own discretion reclaim slurs freely. join in, or put the slurs in your filters. it's fine not to join in as that's your personal comfort, but this is a heads up that the culture is like this since i'm not sure how the moderation is in places like r/196 are. (sorry i used reddit for entirely different things ><)

DO NOT TAG D0NATION POSTS WITH #D0NATION OR ANY OTHER VARIATION. this is SO important. it's best not to tag donation posts AT ALL. tumblr internally flags them and suppresses the post. just reblog silently (d0nate if you can) and move on (censoring just in case lol)

search is useless for finding specific posts. give up before you even try. your best bets are google, asking for help on the dashboard, or just hoping it shows up on your dashboard one day (it probs will, maybe not immediately when you need it though)

i called old tags "slow" but not dead earlier: tags Do Not Die (though some just kind of randomly get wiped or lose posts, idk, it is some post-2018 indexing weirdness) so you can find fanart and posts from 2012 and it's ok to reblog! the essence of tumblr is the continued circulation of people's creations

please do not repost screenshots of tumblr posts unless they are no longer accessible (reblogs locked for example) 😭 i am seeing this happen already. this is the one thing from reddit you're gonna have to let go of. twitter and other place screenshots are OK (probably, some people don't like them). but don't let your page look like one of those r/(etc) post aggregate bots on twitter is what i'm saying. once you explore a tag enough times you'll know what is usually appropriate to post (usually derivative meme templates are OK, but don't overdo it (tho this just falls under "dont spam") (also this is MY personal preference, so if the climate of the tag houses a lot of memes, go ahead!)

in general reposting content that isn't your's is kinda eh. especially reposting people's art without explicit permission. there are art reposters who in the modern day usually ask for permission, of course there are internet spelunkers who repost content from old web and dead sites. there's a lot of nuance, but i highly discourage reposting things you didn't make yourself unless it's stuff like official art and whatnot. photography and other stuff from other people, use your judgement. and as an aside i know "stolen memes" are r/196 and other meme subreddit cultures but it's not exactly appreciated here and i feel like if the reposting gets out of hand tumblr users might get real tired of it. the humor isn't really the same here in that sense, i suggest posting them in a sideblog that archives such things so they aren't lost and/or keeping them in your community tags. ofc no one can stop you!! but the whole highly derivative fried meme thing is very reddit. the culture could not be more different even if we are similar in many ways. i mean this in the nicest way possible >_< if you're not sure, DON'T REPOST.

this is just advice from me, but when liveblogging a show, it's nice to tag it with a unique tag, such as #[your name/nick] plays [game]. i find it's ok to tag series name to some posts that are more substantial, people are happy to see others enjoy what they love, but using a unique tag also helps people track YOUR liveblog since they may save the tag to look at :)

put your age or whether or not you're an adult somewhere where people can see, (and your pronouns too or lackthereof). whether or not if it's on your bio, or an about page, or a carrd. please. it's a matter of curation and safety. some people don't wanna follow minors by accident and vice versa, just as a means to curate their space

people write alt text and image descriptions in the post bodies pretty often. yes it's built into tumblr, but either some people forget or the feature... refuses to work that time. yes it's BROKEN. if you feel like you can contribute alt text for an image in an adequate fashion, go ahead!

try not to reblog people's personal posts. asking people never hurts!

you can restrict non-followers from replying to your posts, or turn off replies all together. as far as i know it's not possible for seperate posts unfortunately, just a blog-wide toggle. when replying to someone specifically, be sure to @ them so they can see it!

for a long time, only the first 5 tags you used in an original post mattered. a lot of people still repeat this, but in my experience this seems to have... changed?? i can't say for sure, but my posts appear in tags beyond the first five. just to be sure, tag the most relevant things first! (or not, if you have your own strategy LOL)

you're free to not tag trigger warnings (it's nice to do it for others tho especially if they ask) but please tag flashing images as such. #epilepsy warning, #flashing, #flashing image, #flashing, etc.

REPORT BOT BLOGS. it blocks them for you anyway. just blocking doesn't do anything for anyone

you can add other people to a sideblog to make it a group blog. this is how blogs with mods work, or even collectives, it has a lot of uses in general so have fun with it! be wary it requires getting someone's email so be safe about that and try to do it with people you trust.

this is advice from me since i noticed after publishing this post that a lot of reddit users don't tag things. you don't have to btw!! but my advice that brightens up the website: if you reblog cool art, writing, music or photography (taken by OP) and you like it a lot, i highly recommend leaving compliments in the tags. we live in an age where creative creation is increasingly unappreciated and people are quiet silent— creators get no feedback therefore no encouragememt to keep creating. this is more like a personal plea, but like to reblog ratios have become DIRE. people are apathetic and scared to interact with people's creations even though on here they are actively ecouraged to. if you like art or fic etc i even more highly recommend you reblog it. likes don't do anything! reblogs = more eyes on it. let's support each other's creative endeavors 🩷

don't fall for the trap of trying to make tumblr into reddit, or trying to recreate the feeling of a subreddit. it's not gonna work. try to adapt. it's easier said than done but lol. rome wasn't built in a day. operate your blog like your own space rather than trying to recreate a hub. the tolerance for trying to change tumblr culture is super low and a lot of people who are much meaner than me will probably try to bully the idea into the ground. and people DO get mean. (like playground namecalling, but people have no reservations about it, so it's stuff that would probably get you banned on reddit)

if your post gets traction and the note notifications annoy you, deleting the original post will make the notifs stop coming. a lot of people reblog the post to keep it on their blog then delete the original to effectively "mute" the notifications permanently.

#196 #r/196 #reddit #r/tumblr #r/curatedtumblr #curatedtumblr #reddit blackout #reddit boycott #reddit migration #r/traa #i hope this reaches people bc i feel like some of this stuff is important #traa #r/ftm

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Maunder Labyrinth Character Intros/General Information

A concept blurb for my haunted attraction yan series in which the Reader applies for a position at the location to make some extra cash for the upcoming season. This post lists the main cast plus a few of the rules they have to follow. Feel free to ask any questions

SawBones (she/they)

Doctor; grouchy 24/7

A woman of science looked down upon by peers and loved ones for her unorthodox methods. Tricked into visited the Labyrinth by "friends" and betrayed by that same group right before the exit. Seeing the talent in her twisted mind she was given a second chance. Was gifted the bodies of all four members as a welcome present to her new home which she then stitched into a new pet who carries out patrols for her. Turns every guest she gets her hands on into a new guard or another trophy on her shelf.

Sawbones lost an eye to a guest before being fully twinned to the Labyrinth. Hates Hound for stopping her from chasing after them once they had safely escaped her section. Her sole comfort is a cassette player she had in her pocket before venturing to the attraction with a mixtape of the songs it once loved. It serves a deeper purpose as her real name is on the tape.

Martyr (He/Him)

"You can trust me!" You can't trust him.

A once shy and awkward body with a tame love for horror now a homicidal fanatic. Lost his mind to the horrors and wonders of the Labyrinth, and slaughtered his friends as offerings for a hope to appease. Bangs himself up and dupes his way into large groups to slowly bump them off one before breaking into a frenzy and killing the rest in his lust.

Welds a chainsaw he decorates with stickers and prints guests might have on them. If something they own is cute enough he will let a guest go - if a ten minute headstart means anything.

Jumpscare

...

....boo

Not much is know about Jumpscare. They reappear and disappear mostly as they please. There one second and gone the next. Devoid of expression and is alot jumpier than they look. Half of their scares are from being startled upon finding living guests while disassociating, and screaming their head off because of the realization.

Jumpscare is one of two actors who will not actively kill guests (unless they have a heart condition). They are interested in the outside world and offer places to hide in exchange for knowledge. Pulls back from this habit once Reader joins the crew and dumps their questions on them instead.

Bedevil

"I see dead people...." "B, that's a mirror." "I know...."

Plagued by wails and visions of the damned. Has trouble telling guests from living or dead and will fly into panic when they attempt to interact- adding another voice to the choir that haunts them. Reader's name tag helps Bedevil differ them from others, but they cling to their side to assure their companion is still among the living. Has thought of asking Reader to quite, but is too afraid of being alone again.

Hound (they/them)

Do not remove their muzzle. Do not interact.

Hound is the other member who will not kill guests - they are also the most monstrous in appearance. Hound is reluctant in their cannibalistic urges, but feels they deserve to live same as everyone else. Eats the corpses of guests littered around and offers sanctuary for survivors in their bunker. It is the only safe zone in the main building.

Twins - Leader (he/him) & Follower (whatever you want)

Follower and Leader swap between manning the front and being guides for the tour. Follower is very assertive, dominant, and boastful. Leader is reserved, submissive and self hating. Follower will lead a tour safely through the maze unless a guest acts against them. Leader will do just about any order giving to them, but has a walkie-talkie at all times to receive them from their bother. If a guests asks for a discount - they will give it. If they ask to be let go - Leader will let them go.

Spector [It]

Enforcer of law, order, and punishment. Has free range of all corners of the Labyrinth and the ability to phase through walls. A tell tale sign of their arrival is the temperature dropping. The cameras around the attraction are their eyes.

Boogeyman

Your Boss.

THE SEVEN IMPORTANT RULES ACTORS HAVE TO FOLLOW

Do not attack guests until signaled.

Do not fight amongst each other.

Once inside Hound's bunker no actor is permitted to attack guests until they exit.

Do not leave your assigned area.

Do not cover the cameras.

Do not take the hired helps name tag. Failure to comply to this rule will be met immediate termination.

Failure to comply otherwise will result in the mask given to you sewn into place. A second strike will give the jailer free range of punishment.

#yandere imagines #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere harem #yandere horror #yandere character #yandere concept #yandere x reader

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - Part 20 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, he’s cared too much.

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

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

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

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

He’s too late.

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

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

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always be alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t seem to escape him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn him and Sandy both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

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

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

At all

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

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

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

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

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

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

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

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

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

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

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

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

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

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

He’s loved you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

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

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

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

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

When it’s time, I’ll know.

Four Weeks Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d called her last night.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On your knees,” you command.

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

“Did I stutter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me,” you command.

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words,” you order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s all yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your back,” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” he nods back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

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

He can only manage a whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still sensitive, you think.

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

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

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

“I love you,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

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

Here, with Elvis.

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

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