#so I hope fans of series I'm not into get stuff to be excited about

[loregoddess]

I started Ghost Trick today (some friends lent it to me a while back, but I wanted to finish Rebirth first), and gotta say I like the snappy music and puzzles

[fluffykitteninabox]

wow, you really realise that you don't give a single fuck about a series anymore when they bring a character who has been "dead" for over a year back to life and you couldn't care less

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Fandom things I'm looking forward to:

Kingdom Hearts IV and Missing Link

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth

Final Fantasy IX Remake

Final Fantasy Tactics Remaster or Remake (whichever it is. I've heard both things)

The fourth Madoka Magica movie, whenever that comes out (seriously. Where is it? First it was announced as the Concept movie. Then it was re-announced years later with a new name, and it's still missing)

The Percy Jackson TV show

The Infernal Devices TV show

Maybe the Twilight TV show. Maybe.

The animated Smallville continuation that Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum are working on, whenever it comes out

I was going to put Baron and Toluca on this list (that's, like, a spiritual successor to the OG "Roswell" TV show. Majandra Delfino who played Maria in the show wrote the script, and she and Brendan Fehr who played Michael star in it. They're also planning for more Roswell cameos in later episodes), but it came out and I didn't even know it? But I have no idea how to watch it, though, as I guess it only came out in theaters in Albuquerque. Here's hoping it comes out on DVD or something...

The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes

The alleged Firefly reboot

The new Daredevil show

The Batman Part II

The next part in Tom Holland's Spider-Man movies

The DCU, starting with Superman Legacy in 2025

The Five Nights at Freddy's movie and Help Wanted 2

The Iron Lung movie

The TV show that it sounds like Markiplier will be working on after he's done with the Iron Lung movie

The next Bendy and the Ink Machine thing being worked on

MAYBE the Hello Neighbor sequel. I know. I KNOW! (It's really only because the second game had to end on a cliffhanger.)

Five Nights at Candy's 4

Frozen III

Disney's "Wish"

The next and final season of the Clear Card arc of Cardcaptor Sakura

The new Avatar series (the one about the third Avatar in the cycle: the Earth bender)

The live-action Avatar: The Last Airbender series, perhaps

The Chosen season 4

[vanishingcherry]

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

pairings: f1 grid x leclerc!driver reader, charles leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: sexism, hugging, talk about the possibility of a car crash, 2021 f1 grid

authors note: i was thinking of making this a series, so let me know if thats something you would be interested in! (like leclerc driver in different situations throughout the seasons after her debut in 2021)

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

Sitting on a flight to Bahrain, it would be an understatement to say that Y/N was nervous. She sat next to her brother, Charles, with Arthur sitting across from her, fast asleep against the headrest of the plane seat.

Charles was going into his 4th season in Formula 1, his third with Ferrari. Y/N, however, was going into her first, following her older brother's footsteps as she started out her rookie season with Sauber, or Alfa Romeo as it was now called.

Looking out the window, she watched in amazement as the city lights sparkled in the night. She had been to Bahrain before, during her time in F3 and F2 with Prema, but landing as a Formula 1 driver was a different feeling altogether.

Y/N was confident in the car. 3 days of preseason testing allowed her to get accustomed to all the differences from the F2 cars. While it definitely wasn't at the level of Mercedes, Ferrari or Red Bull, she was sure that she would be able to get at least a few points over the course of the season.

She was also extremely lucky to be paired with Kimi for her rookie season. The seasoned driver was known to be extremely less talkative, but she was sure she would pick up a few tips by just being in his presence. They had even had a short conversation during the pre-season testing during which Kimi told her that he was glad to have her as a teammate. Y/N never really realised just how much that statement meant to her until now, easing some of the nerves.

After landing, she and Charles walk through customs and head outside together, Arthur and Lorenzo following not too far behind. Immediately met by thousands of fans, she watches an unfazed Charles make his way towards them, smiling and signing posters and caps. She watches in awe for a second before a voice calling her name catches Y/N's attention.

"Y/N! Can you sign my cap please!"

She looks over to see a young girl amongst the crown and makes her way to the barrier. Kneeling over, she grabs the pen and signs the cap with a big smile.

"Are you going to watch the race?" Y/N smile turns even bigger when the girl nods.

"We've got seats at turn 3. I hope you get points! I love you!"

She laughs at the response, giving the girl a quick hug before making her way down the fans lined up.

There were dozens of people there, waving flags and notebooks for her to sign. Others just wanted a quick hug or a picture, which Y/N quickly obliged to. While she couldn't interact with everybody there, she made sure to as many people as possible.

Almost all of them were shouting words of encouragement and support, compliments hitting her from all sides. Surprised by how many people wanted her to sign things and take pictures, it was almost half an hour later when she finally sat down in the car, slumping against the seat as it made its way to the hotel. Her hand hurting from the number of autographs she had given out.

"There were so many people who wanted me to sign stuff" She said to Charles. "I didn't think there would be that many. All the girls were so excited."

"You're the first female driver Y/N, of course they were excited. I'm so proud of you, everyone is." Charles smiles as he replies, knowing just how hard it was to make it to F1, even more so as a girl. "Papa and Jules would be so, so happy."

"Thats P12 Y/N! Great job!"

The engineer's voice comes through the radio, conveying to Y/N her qualifying results.

"Oh my god! 12th is crazy, thank you! Where did Charles place? And Kimi?" Happy that Charles qualified 4th she celebrated, although she was slightly confused as to how she qualified ahead of Kimi who was 14th.

"There was an issue with his car." Her engineer explains, before telling her to switch off the engine and prepare for strategy discussion.

Y/N was just a few tenths off from making Q3 in her debut. Nonetheless, P12 was an amazing standing for the start of the race, and she was overjoyed at the prospect of getting points at her first ever F1 race.

As she makes her way to the driver rooms, Charles catches up to her, giving her a quick hug. "Xavi told me you qualified 12th! Congratulations! Get points tomorrow okay?"

She nods in response, congratulating him for qualifying P4 before once again making her way to the driver's room. She received many pats on the back on her way there, some from drivers and others from reporters and general people around the paddock.

Walking into the motorhome, Kimi is quick to congratulate her. Y/N expresses her sympathy for his qualifying position, but Kimi is quick to brush it aside. Having been in the sport this long, he knew that a bad qualifying doesn't mean a bad race.

After the discussions with the team for the next day's strategy had been closed, Y/N heads out, wanting to get a good nights rest before her first race.

The only goal for the next day was to race well and hopefully get a few points. Y/N knew that Alfa Romeo was feeling the pressure just as much as she was, being the team that signed the first female driver. All she wanted was to learn as much as possible while proving herself to the world.

"Just learn", is what the team principle had said not an hour ago. "Learn as much as you can, enjoy, and try not to crash the car."

Just as the rookie opens the taxi door, a voice calling out her name makes her turn around. At the sight of Sebastian, she pulls out her earphones.

The driver had just made the switch to Aston Martin, being Charles's teammate the year before. "I heard you qualified 12th! Thats amazing!"

Shyly she laughs. "Yeah, thank you so much!"

"Is anyone giving you a hard time?" he asks, fully prepared to defend Y/N. Sebastian had been an advocate for women in this sport for a long time, and was truly delighted that the step had finally be taken. Truth be told, he was honoured that he would be getting the opportunity to race against Y/N, even though she would insist it was the other way round.

"Not really," she replies. "Just a few fans on social media and stuff, saying it's a 'mans' sport."

"Ah, I think Hanna showed me a few of those posts." Sebastian mutters, thinking back to a weekend ago when his wife showed him the latest news, courtesy to the driver not having any social media accounts of his own. "Ignore them, we all know that you're amazing and believe me, you absolutely deserve to be here."

The 4 time world champion was speaking from experience. He had kept an eye on her the previous year. Although they hadn't talked much, other than when she was in the garage to visit Charles, Sebastian was ecstatic when he heard that the young girl had won the F2 Championship.

"I bet you'll get points tomorrow, you're just that good."

"Ah thanks Seb!" Y/N is close to blushing at that comment, overwhelmed with the number of compliments she had been receiving over the course of the day.

After another few moments of chatting, Sebastian walks away to his own car, leaving Y/N to get in hers and get back to the hotel. Popping her earphones back in, she relaxes against the seat, ready for what the race would bring.

"It's lights out and away we go for the first time in the 2021 season!"

The voice of David Croft is heard all around the world, thousands having tuned in to watch the start of the new season. Y/N gets a good start, overtaking Perez and moving up to P11 by turn 1.

Ahead of her now was Stroll in the Aston Martin. Staying close to him for the next few laps, she manages to overtake him on the straight when DRS opens.

"You're in the points! Push!" Her engineers voice comes through. Behind him the team was watching the screen in suspense, hoping that she would be able to keep the position. They jumped out of their seats nearly every time she got close to another car, worried out of their mind for the driver but excited nonetheless.

Choosing to stay out on track for an extra few laps earns her another two positions as most drivers go in for their pitstop, putting her at P8. Y/N manages to defend her position for majority of the race, keeping the Aston Martins and Red Bull behind her.

Towards the second half of the race, Y/N went in for her pitstop, unfortunately losing a spot in the process. Still, just 13 laps later, Y/N crossed the finish line in P9, having gotten 2 points for the driver standings and the team.

"Thats P9! P9 Y/N! Amazing, amazing job!"

Body in shock, she thanks the team and engineers profusely, jumping out of the car the second she parked it.

"Y/N Leclerc crosses the line in P9, an absolutely stellar performance. The first points scored from a woman in decades, and that too in her first race. I'm sure we can expect nothing short of brilliance from her in the future." Martin Brundle's voice can be heard by all watching.

Still in awe at the moment, all Y/N can think about is the fact that she got points. You did it, you did it, you did it. She runs into the barriers, giving a hug to everyone from Alfa Romeo standing there.

Behind her, Charles comes in for a hug, having heard from his engineer that Y/N placed 9th. "Je t'aime, je suis si fier" i love you, i am so proud

The next few minutes were a blur. Waving to the fans, Y/N can hear them cheer in the background as more and more people come up to her. Lewis pats her helmet on his way to the podium, Max and Valtteri doing the same. Sebastian walks by and offers a hug, widely grinning as he winks and says a quick "Told you so."

It was an out of the world experience. While not everyone may see the importance, everyone on the grid knew exactly how she was feeling. Having worked your entire life to reach F1, the feeling after getting your first points is one that no one would ever forget. One that Y/N would never forget.

"So Y/N, how does it feel having won points in your debut race?" The reporter asks when she enter the media pen. Replays of her crossing the checkered flag in P9 can be seen playing on the television in the background.

"There was a lot of pressure on me to perform well, being the first signed female driver and of course Charles being in Ferrari. People expected a lot. So, I am extremely happy that I was able to deliver."

Her response is short and sweet, as directed by the PR manager, but true nonetheless. There was a lot of controversy when Sauber announced that she would be joining F1 that year, with people on both sides of the spectrum making statements. It meant heaps to her, knowing that she had already started proving the haters wrong.

Toto and Susie Wolff were in support, both mentioning how important it was for more females to enter the sport. The Mercedes Principle having mentioned how "proud" he was, and how her presence would likely "encourage more girls from around the world to enter motorsport."

Susie being having participated in motorsport herself had reached out to Y/N when the news broke, sending her congrats and sharing her enthusiasm. Y/N and her still stay in contact, having just replied to another congratulatory message from Susie before coming out to give interviews.

On the other hand, there were also people who were doubtful of her. "She's entering a sport that has been predominantly male for over 7 decades. The way I see it, I'm not sure she'll be able to handle the needs of this sport. It's a tough sport, and there must be a reason females have never lasted long before." The statement that Red Bull released via their team principle was nothing short of enraging for Y/N, but she knew that she would have to stay calm and prove them wrong on track.

Nonetheless, Y/N knew that she had the support of all the drivers on the grid, all of them having talked to her and shown support during the pre-season testing. It meant a lot to her knowing that world champions like Lewis, Alonso and Sebastian were all rooting for her.

"And how did Charles react to you coming P9?"

"He was very happy," she exclaimed. "A bit jealous I think, because he didn't get points in his debut." Y/N adds, softly chuckling before moving on to the next reporter.

The rest of the media session went well, all the reporters being respectful and truly happy for Y/N. Finally, once the day was over, she went back to the hotel, ready for a night of relaxation.

Not too long after settling down on the couch, she heard a knock and the door handle turning. Charles walks in.

Falling back onto the couch next to her, he says. "The reporter told me what you said to her."

Frowning in response, Y/N pauses the movie. He elaborates. "About me being jealous? Because I didn't get points in my debut?" He gently elbows her in the rib and she laughs in response.

"But its true, no?

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Hi! Love your posts. Can you write crush headcanons for each of the turtles, like how they develop it, how they may act around them, and maybe ask them out? Thank you! Hope you have a great day!

TMNT crush headcanons:

Leonardo:

• Leo developes slow but meaningful crushes! He's very careful, and guarded of his feelings similar to Raph, but in his own way. His crush starts with feeling inspired by his person of interest, someone who makes him want to better himself in any way by either observing their passions, talents, and skills, or who encourages his limits to discover his own.

• He's thoughtful but very subtle about his affections towards someone, he doesn't exactly want them to know

• Observant, attentive, and a classic romantic is how he is—that last part, in his fantasies, at least. He dreams about being able to provide everything his crush could want or need, even though he can't always do so due to how they live

• Leo asks his crush out after a series of escalating gestures of love so it doesn't really catch them off guard. Asks them to meet him alone to talk because he has something important to say, and then makes the confession.

• "I know you have to know what I'm going to say, you're nervous, I can tell...I probably shouldn't have been so cryptic when I asked you to meet me in the dojo by yourself." He softens his posture a bit, to seem less tense. He'd lit several dozen candles scattered all over the room, partially for himself while he meditated to calm his mind a little, mostly to create an atmosphere. "You've become a close friend of mine despite everything, you know you're always welcome in our home, right? And you can come whenever." There's an awkward pause—he doesn't know how to continue with what he's saying. "Ah, anyways—I was saying...I enjoy your company, I would be honored to show you some stuff I know, in exchange for some of your time. Only if you'd like." God, he hoped that you would.

Michelangelo:

• Mikey couldn't hide his growing feelings, even if he wanted to. And it didn't take much for him to fall fast and hard for his crush; the attention he got was addictive and he wanted to give it back tenfold! He always wanted to feel wanted and accepted by others, so even though he couldn't have that from the rest of the human world, the fact that he had that from you was more than enough for him. He was grateful.

• He's his crush's biggest fan!! If there were merch, he'd wear it proudly even if it embarrassed you

• Creative and artistic; he painted and redesigned one of his old longboards just for you. It had some of his old pop-art on it, graffiti style, random sketches and doodles, and every sticker he could find. He tried to remember everything you liked to put it on the things he gave you, whether it were poster collages he made for his wall art or putting love onto the bottom of a skateboard. Big gift giver, so expect to get a LOT of stuff from him—even sentimental items he's nostalgic over, even if you feel bad to receive those things from him. He has a lot to give. 😌

• Mikey confesses by accident one day when he doesn't even mean to—he's playing around with you as usual and gets talkative when he's feeling excited, so it just slips out. Mid-play.

• "Ha-hah! That's what I'm taking about, I love you, Y/N!" There's a pause where it has to compute for a second. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?" He's serious for a moment—he can't believe he actually said that. But the next beat, he's back to smiling at you, laughing, maybe trying to deflect the hint of embarrassment he felt (which was rare for Mikey). "Yeah, I did say that out loud, I guess. Whoops...oh—now, tag, you're it!"

Donatello:

• Despite his brains and his intellectual nature, Donnie is an emotional person and actually falls in love almost immediately when he encounters that perfect person. He gets stars in his eyes and runs his own compatibility tests through his mind as he learns more about them, and annoyingly, they're stuck on his mind even when he's trying to work on his experiments and projects.

• Helpful, playful, a little stingy with your time lol���when he wants to spend time with his crush, he wants his brothers away because they take the limelight without thinking sometimes. Always offering to help you with homework or if you need anything fixed around the house, he's volunteering for that. Broken cabinet? Fixed. Wifi isn't working? No problem. Pipes under your sink leaking? He's been fixing up the Lair for years!

• Donnie is not shy. Let's say that rn. He's 👏 confident 👏. He's a little bit of a showoff competing with his brothers to snatch your attention, even if it's just games.

• He asks you if you'll have him on a date one night on your way out of the sewers. He'd been looking for the prime time to hit you with the question and was a little nervous to do it with his peers around, so he dropped the question when you went to leave for the night. "I know you're leaving—and this will only take a minute! But I had something to ask you." He lets you get curious. He holds up the keys to his prized possession, the Shellraiser, that he dreamed about driving you around in. "Ever gone on a joyride through New York in a souped-up garbage truck? No?...do you, maybe, want to do it with me? As a friend thing? Or maybe as more than just...friends?"

Raphael:

• Raph was completely UNready to admit he was getting soft for you. Or ready to commit to feeling the uncomfortable—but tantalizing—feelings you gave him. In honesty, for a good long while, Raph didn't let you know in the slightest he was getting his heart stolen over the course of the months he knew you.

• Very much puts off his crush with his prickly demeanor. But underneath that tough exterior, he's secretly taking every chance he can get to try to impress you in the ways he knows how; if there's any heavy lifting to be done, you bet he's volunteering himself out for that before anyone else can.

• Acts too good for sappy things until the moment his crush is being vulnerable—it disarms him, he's a protector at heart. He wants to be your shield from everything bad in the world, which is a lot.

• Raph plays the long game with his crush hinting over and over again he's in love, with no luck at times. It frustrates him but it's a challenge. He won't be outright and say it; everything he does is subtle, but the second your back is turned, he's making it known he's got your attention just to pull one over on his brothers (in good humor!)

• Makes his crush work with him to get the confession out, low-key. He makes you guess until you finally start to piece everything together. He will not be saying it with his words, but he'll definitely show it.

• "Y/N. C'mere," he says. "What're you still doing here this late, dummy? Already said it's not safe to walk home alone." Silence. "Agh, I did it again. Ignore my crap. But I mean it, stop goin' home alone, you know I told you I'd come too. And if I ain't available then I'm making Mikey go. Hear me? Stop acting like it's a burden or whatever..." He's kicking himself mentally for being unable to say what he actually wants to say. He ruffles your hair roughly to deflect. "See, now ya look silly like you act. Come on, let's go. I like you better safe in one piece than ending up in the back of some guy's van."

I lost all of my TMNT gifs from my old phone 😭 The post feels bare without it, but anyways, this is my first post in over a year so i hope it's good! 🐢🐢🐢🐢

[skruttet]

What are your thoughts on s4? Personally I was actually kind of disappointed, a lot of the characters felt... off?? Not like themselves. Snufkin really didn't appear much and the Comet Episode was confusing and wasn't really all that Book-Accurate... And Snufkin got the 90s Movie treatment :(

Like there were definitely scenes and a few episodes I liked, but overall I feel weird about the season. And I'm curious what your thoughts are.

I will say that overall, I was disappointed.

To be fair to the series though, it arguably largely stems from my personal expectations and hopes? The two biggest disappointments for me were Joxter and Snufkin not meeting, and snufmin's relationship.

The Joxter stuff on the whole I adored, and really could never have dreamed of happening. Just seeing him - or any of the Oshun Oxtra crew, really! - interacting with the characters in "modern day" is great. And then he reunited with Mymble and it was so exciting, and then Little My started wondering about him and Snufkin, and then-! ...They didn't meet. Honestly baffles me why they'd give us so much fanservice but not include probably the main thing most fans would want to see with Joxter. Also interesting that they're afraid to even touch Snufkin's issues with family but they KEEP bringing up Little My's.

The snufmin thing surprised me because my expectations were LOW; during the wait I kept telling people not to get their hopes up, that snufmin would never be explicitly "canon", etc. And I still say they would never do anything explicit with them, however, I was expecting at least for the relationship to be on the same level as it was in season 3, but it seemed to take a step down unfortunately. I wanted more romantic subtext, more hints that something was up between them, and for about the first 4 episodes I thought Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden were finally just interacting as friends and I was hopeful, but unfortunately it was soon clear that they were still supposed to be romantically linked. To their credit, Moomintroll and Snufkin's relationship does maintain some of the development it grew throughout the series, and it funnily ends up presenting it almost as one-sided on Snufkin's side; he's now so much more openly affectionate and patient with Moomintroll, and their communication is a whole lot better, but the latter continues to pursue Snorkmaiden instead. I think Snufkin himself feels so mellowed out in this season, like he's no longer fighting against his own feelings or pulling away from others as much, which is nice to see (though I can see others complaining he's too out-of-character compared to his original counterpart, which is understandable, but I'm personally fine with the characters being "different versions" of themselves in adaptations).

Another disappointment for me was, like you mentioned, the Comet finale... it just wasn't as epic as I thought it'd be, and the stakes weren't high from the start, and after the journey was over the rest of the episode taking place in the valley was a bit dull and directionless. And inaccuracies from the book I expect by this point, but I'm personally not a fan of the ending change with them all just waiting outside to die but the Groke sacrificing herself but actually this is a family show so she's actually alive yaay 😂 Just a bit strange and not the send-off I was quite hoping for.

On the positive side, I LOVED Mamma and Pappa this season. Moominpappa kinda stole the show, and whilst the creators clearly favoured him in past seasons, in this one he finally lost that meanness he sometimes had in s1-3, so he was just a delight to watch.

The guest stars and characters were fabulous, which is a bittersweet thing as it makes it all the more sad that this is the final season and it's all we'll see of them.

The animation and music and sound and acting were all as wonderful as they always are. The crew did such a great job and it's a shame the story decisions dampened the experience for me.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Happy New Year, everyone! I thought it would be fun to do a little retrospective on the game's progress over the last year... Shepherds of Haven has grown so much from the little demo I posted in January 2018, and it continues to steadily build and flourish in so many different and exciting ways! Here's a look at just some of the things we accomplished in 2023!

I added 143,151 words to the game (2.5 main chapters, 8 new character interludes) in 2023: the equivalent of writing the longest Lord of the Rings book in one year! We also broke our huge 1 million word milestone—without including code—meaning Shepherds of Haven is now officially twice as long as War and Peace, and almost as long as the entire 7-book Harry Potter series... and all in a single game!

A lot goes into game creation behind the scenes, including the coordination and creation of visual assets for the game��like character cards, codex entries, maps, portraits, and backgrounds—fun stuff for the fans (like the MC info template we created), and songs for the official soundtrack. As the game creeps slowly and determinedly towards its initial completion, that also means learning new things as a solo developer to prepare for the future, like learning to build an official website, researching business and tax practices, and beginning to think about how to conduct testing, publishing, and marketing down the road. Much of what I enumerate here hasn't been made public yet and will continue to cook in the background for a while, but I'm very proud of the work I've gotten done this year and will be excited to unveil more in the future!

And of course, for even more Shepherds of Haven content, I've added and completed even more stories for our little library on Patreon (which also has sizable word count at this point): The Bridge of Bones (a Trouble and Riel murder mystery), O Happy Dagger (a dark adventure featuring Briony, Chase, and Red), and The Hunt (a wild tale involving Tallys, Halek, Shery, and new kinds of spirits, fey magic, and Elves) were all serial stories completed in 2023, while Some Kind of Virus is a cyberpunk zombie apocalypse AU that will continue to be updated with new chapters monthly.

A full list of the Shepherd short stories and serial novellas (with links) can be viewed here!

I hope you enjoyed this session of Shepherds of Haven Wrapped! Honestly, this doesn't actually cover everything I've been working on, but some things can't be packaged and listed out neatly, or otherwise won't seem very interesting to anyone else but me! 😂 As we inch through Chapter 9 and get more interludes done (only a few more main chapters to go), I'm hopeful that I'll also be able to find time to work on my next novel, but we'll see if the Shepherds schedule ends up ramping up or settling down as we work steadily towards finishing the main story!

One important thing before wrapping up is to acknowledge your guys' role in this wonderful, wild journey. I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for your invaluable contributions to the development of Shepherds of Haven. Whether you took the time to share links to the game, supported its growth on Discord or Patreon, left encouraging messages or asked interesting questions, reported bugs, or showcased your remarkable works of fanfiction or fanart, I am sincerely thankful for the unwavering support from this amazing community! Your collective efforts have played a pivotal role in shaping the world of the game into what it is today. Words cannot adequately convey my gratitude for your support, and I am truly blessed to have such a passionate community surrounding this project.

As we step into 2024, I am filled with anticipation for the developments awaiting Shepherds of Haven. Big things are on the horizon, and I am so excited to share these experiences with you! Thank you for being an integral part of this journey, and here's to the continued growth of our shared little world. Cheers to 2024—may it be a year filled with creativity, adventure, and joy! 🎊

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE 4KOMA COMIC PROJECT

Next page

This is another project that I'm currently working on with @kazinsblog! We adore makoyuma and they're our number one faves.

So we decided to make a little 4koma style side special of Kazin's mini series "The Kanai Ward Case Files"

This intro is the only normal comic in this story.

Prologue: Flu season hits worldwide, and Makoto calls Yuma one day and gives him the warning. Yuma notices his congested voice so he wants to head to to Kanai Ward to check on him. But meanwhile, Yuma is trying his best to hold his cough as he talks on the line. Only to suffer the fit after Makoto hangs up. He isn't well either.

When Yuma arrives in Kanai Tower finding Makoto completely disheveled and passed out at his work desk, he ushers the stuffy CEO to bed. The two were shown pushing themselves while being sick alone. But now that they're together, these stubborn workaholics will finally rest and break from their duties in order to take care of each other. (for the most part anyway)

further information below

Of course since I'm involved in this project, they're obviously not going to be doing well... XD But this story is going to be a lot more fun and lighthearted than others I have written. (It's essentially written in a silly sick filler episode of a cartoon kind of vibe) meaning less whump, and more sick comfort and hilarity. There may be a few somewhat whumpy ones here and there (I can't resist) but it won't be as common.

Full Story Summary:

This RainCode fan side story revolves around slice of life comedy 4koma style strips with scenes of Yuma and Makoto being sick together and spending time with each other in Kanai Tower for about a week or two. They both have different halves of cold symptoms, Yuma with throat based, and Makoto with nasal based. (hence the title) Various cute and wacky stuff happen between the two and their bond grows stronger spending this time off together away from their duties as detective and CEO. They may be sick and miserable, but at least they're in it together! What could possibly go wrong?

The comic strips will be drawn by Kazin, but there will be some bonus art that the two of us will work on together (similar to the title which was a collab by us both)

Also, both of us agreed that these strips should be posted on my blog rather than Kazin's. Reason being is that this story is based on illness and my blog is half an illness blog so it makes more sense to share it to mine. You all likely expect this sort of thing from me at this point anyway… XD (I’m also the director so I write the descriptions of them.)

And this series will continue to be ongoing so long as Kazin and I have ideas. (we currently have almost 100 strips planned)

I will update this in separate posts whenever more strips get fully digitally drawn by Kazin whenever she can work on them. With the tag #kanaiwardcasefiles h&h. Some strips will be random, some will be two parters, and some will have a timeline or are connected to others.

We both hope you look forward to this project! There will be a lot of funny and cute moments between these two, so we hope you makoyuma enjoyers are excited!

Also bit of a fun fact: This was inspired by when my mother and I had covid late April 2024. Something similar happened to us, and we each had one cold-like symptom more than the other. (her with coughing and me with congestion) So I thought of this idea for these two!

[dangjam]

The Day You Shine : Part One

Pairing: Ateez ot8 x female reader.

(Once I'm done with the story I'll try to make a version for males so everyone can be comfortable❤)

Warnings! : Fluff, Cursing, and a little bit of Angst.(fans pushing one another)

Disclaimer: The people portrayed in this story is not how they actually act. This is an imagine series, therefore it's not real. MDNI!

English, thinking, Korean.

Authors Note: I know it's been a while since i posted. I just didn't have any motivation at the time. I'm back though!. I hope you enjoy!.

-------------------------------------------------------

Flashback: a month ago

It was a beautiful morning, it was sunny with a little bit of wind and the sun casted a ray of light into you're room. The cool breeze that flowed through the window, made your skin coat in goosebumps which awoke you from you're sweet slumber.

You shuffle around in annoyance at the cool air, pulling you're fluffy and dark blue blanket over yourself. You were about to drift off to sleep when suddenly someone barges into the door.

"Y/n, wake up!" Your friend comes walking in. "What do you want Libby?, and how did you get into my house??" You say, groaning at how loud she was and her sudden entry. "First of all, you gave me a key in case of emergency. And second of all, It's time to get up, you don't wanna be late right?....." Libby says as she turns around to walk out of you're room. "Late??.... late for what?", You say from annoyance until you're eyes widen from realization. Today was Ateez's concert in chicago and you FORGOT. You hop up from you're bed and quickly go to look at you're phone. You think to yourself, 10:47am.. That's not that bad, i just have to get ready and buy the members gifts before it gets 12:00pm.

You jump out of you're bed with excitement and give a long stretch. After you're done stretching, you walk over to you're closet to grab some clothes for the day. You flip and scan through you're closet for the right outfit. Once you pick one, you throw it on your bed and run out of your room to get in the shower. The shower you take is almost about 20 minutes, so it's probably 11 something am. You get out of the shower, wrap a towel around you're body, and turn to the sink to brush you're teeth and wash you're face. After all of that, you make you're way out of the bathroom and into you're room. You don't bother to check the time so you just put on you're clothes. You go back to the bathroom to do you're hair and put on you're accessories.

Once you finish, you walk into the kitchen with Libby handing you a plate of bacon, eggs, and waffles. You start eating. "You better hurry up if you want me to drive you to the store AND to the concert early." She says with a hearty laugh. To this, you stuff you mouth full and put you're dish in the sink. You grab your jacket and run to her car. Libby runs after you, laughing at how you're acting. She gets in the driver's seat and drives to the store. You buy the eight special gifts you're planning on giving to Ateez tonight and run to the check out. You open your phone to look at the time. "11:34!?... COME ON" You shout. The people in the store side eye you but you ignore it. Once the gifts are payed for, you run out the store and into Libby's car. On the way to the concert, Libby turns on Deja Vu by Ateez and you guys jam out to the song. You arrive to the destination and practically jump out of the car. "BYE LIBBY!" You yell as you wave at the girl. She waves back at you and then drives off.

——————————————————————

The boys are currently backstage getting ready for the concert. Wooyoung’s hair stylist is just about to finish up his hair, Jongho is talking with Mingi about the upcoming live, Hongjoong is leaning against the wall and is looking over at the clock to make sure everyone and everything is organized for the concert. San and Yunho are going over some parts in the dances, and Seonghwa is helping Yeosang fix a part of his outfit.

Hongjoong notices there’s only 10 minutes left until the show starts. “Is everyone ready?” He asks in a slightly inpatient tone. Wooyoung hops up from his seat after the stylist finishes with his hair and says, “Relax Hyung, everything is okay. No need to be so…what’s the word?”. Jongho pops his head up from his conversation with Mingi and looks at Wooyoung, “I think the English word is ‘uptight’ Wooyoung Hyung” He says with a sing-song voice. Wooyoung nods and looks at Hongjoong. “What Jongho said”, He says with a firm nod but a playful grin. Seonghwa, who was listening in on the conversation rolls his eyes playfully while Hongjoong lightly smacks the back of Wooyoung’s head. “Shut it”, he says in a half annoyed and half amused tone. After everyone is done, the members gather at the far left of the stage that’s still backstage and gather in their usual circle. They put their hands out and on top of each other and yell. “1,2,3… 8 MAKES ONE TEAM!!”, they all say in unison before walking out onto the main stage and are greeted by screams and cheers of their fans.

———————————————————————

You look up as the boys gather on the stage and get into their respective positions for the first song of the concert. You along with other fans wave their lightsticks and cheer loudly for Ateez. The lights that are everywhere on the stage fade out and everything goes dark. Then, the music of ‘Win’ comes on and the lights are on a hue of blues and reds.

It’s now about 8 songs into Ateez’s concert and you’re smiling and singing along to the lyrics of their songs. It starts to feel a bit hot since there’s a bunch of fans jumping around and it’s not exactly cold in Chicago right now. You decide it’s not that big of a deal and try to ignore it. But after a while it gets too much and your vision starts to get blurry. A few people try to talk to you, but you can’t make out what their saying. The people start yelling and waving their hands to get attention from the members. Yunho, who’s the closest to your section notices you and the people who are asking for help he walks over to Hongjoong, who is waving and smiling at another section. “Hyung, I think something’s wrong”, Yunho whispers into Hongjoong’s ear. Hongjoong feels his heart drop slightly and looks around for any danger. He sees you, and he immediately goes over to a staff member and tells them what’s happening.

While that’s happening you start to get more and more fuzzy. You’re sweating bullets and you’re light headedness gets worse. You look around and try to ask for help but you’re voice only makes out a small and weak mumble. You see some security guards and staff members around you and they’re yelling at fans to move so they can get to you. You remember the panic of all eight members before you black out.

—————————————————————

I hope you all enjoyed!, I’m sorry I’m just now posting. But I hope you all have a good day/night!♥️

[monarchisms]

so for those who missed it, geoff talked a bit more about achievement hunter coming to an end on a f**kface break show on september 18th. some of it was stuff we've already learned from the announcement video/thread from AH themselves, but some additional information was mentioned exclusively on the f**kface stream. with rooster teeth being so great (sarcasm) at relaying info to their audience, i had to rely on a fan recording of the stream from twitter to get more context sooner, since the official recording won't be available until the 22nd at the earliest.

i'll put a full transcript of all the clips of the twitter thread under the cut, but if you want a tl;dr:

geoff's known about AH coming to an end for about 6 months (since march 2023), and that the decision to end it wasn't made lightly

he compares AH ending to when he went to quit red vs blue 15 years ago to co-create AH, somewhere between seasons 5-7, and how he continued to work on rvb until he couldn't anymore

also talks about how everyone at the company at the time (like burnie, gus, matt, and jason) were really supportive towards him, and how that led to AH lasting 15 years

he hopes that michael, trevor, alfredo, and joe get the same support he got from the audience when he made AH, and then eventually f**kface. also reassures the audience that all the content on the AH channel will stay as it is

heavily emphasizes that this decision wasn't made by the higher ups at rt or warner brothers, and wanted to nip that in the bud before the rumor went too far. notes that AH didn't fail, it just ended

talks about how there will be a couple more weeks of new achievement hunter content before they close up shop. some of the content includes the members paying an homage to past series and people at AH. it will eventually culminate into a final video that geoff's in where he gets "fucking verbose" about his feelings in relation to everything

gives a shoutout to matt, jeremy, and ray in regards to their streams on twitch, and finally ends his speech by saying that the audience should respect that the past + current AH members are continuing to do the things they love doing while being entertaining, just in their own unique ways

the full transcript:

Geoff: "The Achievement Hunter brand is coming to a close. We have decided to sunset it and to end it. And I've seen a lot of- for a very good reason- and that announcement came in tandem with another announcement, a very exciting announcement about a new brand called Dogbark. And I've seen a lot of excitement, a lot of appreciation from people, a lot of people supporting Michael and those guys [referring to Trevor, Joe, and Alfredo] going off into doing their own thing.

I've seen a lot of fear and uncertainty. I totally get and understand that; you guys are hearing this for the first time. Um, I've known about this for about six months. You know, this has been in some form of discussion or preparation for a while now. This wasn't a decision that was made lightly, uhh... but I think it's the right decision, and I hope that you'll understand and support that, and here's why:

15 years ago, I went to Burnie and Matt and Gus, and I said 'Hey, I'm losing my mind making Red vs Blue.' It was season 5 or 6, and I- I think it was 6 or 7, actually- and I was just so creatively drained and stifled. And I had such a wonderful time making Red vs Blue, but I had made it until I couldn't make it anymore. And I had this idea, and I was very passionate about this idea of this thing I wanted to try. And Burnie and Gus and Matt were so kind and supportive to give me the creative runway to launch and test Achievement Hunter out at a time when everybody- friends- everybody was telling me 'What are you doing, quitting making Red vs Blue? It's a huge hit! You're like, the #2 guy on it. You're a big part of this! Why would you leave that to do this unproven, untested thing?' And I had to! I had to follow my dream, I had to follow my passion. And like I said, Burnie and Matt and Gus and everybody else, Jason, everybody involved in Rooster Teeth at the time, were so fucking supportive and so wonderful to me in that period that 15 years later, we've had 15 years of Achievement Hunter.

We wouldn't be here on this set right now in front of all this Zimmer stuff, in front of fucking dumb pictures of Gavin and Garbage Pail Kids and Barbie and- fucking new Dallas poster, by the way. Uh, all of this has existed because they allowed me to take a chance and supported me taking that chance. And uh- I would be some kind of fucking hypocrite if I didn't provide the same level of support and genuine enthusiasm to Michael and Alfredo and Joe and Trevor as they embark on the same journey I went on 15 years ago! And this is a very- I don't want to speak for them. They didn't make this decision lightly, I guarantee you, and they will explain it in their own voice over the next few weeks as we say goodbye to Achievement Hunter and say hello to Dogbark. [actual dog barks in the background] We worked on that ahead of time.

Uhh... and so I would only ask that you give them the same level of support that the audience gave me when I tried out Achievement Hunter, this untested, unproven thing, and the same level of support you all gave us when we decided that we're going to make F**kface, an audio-only podcast recorded remotely, which is something that I never in a million years wanted to do or thought was a good idea until we did it, and found out it was simply too good, found out that it worked and it ended up becoming, I think, hopefully the best thing I've participated in. I really ju- I really just want to drive that point home. Joe and Trevor and Michael and Alfredo have spent years and years and years making content that they believe in to support and entertain you. And that's all they want to do with this new production.

Everything comes to an end. It's okay for things to end. I know it's scary and it's sad, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen, and that doesn't mean it's going away. We have 15 years of Achievement Hunter content online that you can still watch and enjoy. Hundreds of thousands of hours of content, hundreds upon hundreds of episodes of Minecraft and GTA that are still there for you to go and watch. I mean, hell, I think Emily and I are a great example of that. We've been watching a show that came out in 1978 called Dallas. It ran from 1978 to 1992, and that was 40 fucking years ago. And yet here we are enjoying it, just as if it came out yesterday. Justice for Sue Ellen, I think we can all agree, justice for Sue Ellen. So I would just say that I hope that you'll be excited about this new journey in their careers and this new opportunity for Rooster Teeth. It's sad to say goodbye to a thing, but it's not disappearing. It's still there. You can still go watch all those videos. You can still go enjoy- enjoy all that content, but you can also support them in what they're doing.

And one other little inaccuracy, or not even inaccuracy, but one thing I want to touch on- and then I'll get to breaking cards and being an idiot- is a thing that kind of bugs me, is that- I'm sure you've heard this phrase or some variation of this phrase before where it's uh, said that a lie can travel halfway across the world, while the truth is still putting its pants on, and-"

Emily: "That's kinda deep! I've never heard that before." Geoff: "You've never heard that before?" Emily: "No!"

Geoff: "Yeah, and I've seen a lot of supposition and people saying things that just aren't true. And I want to stop that right now before they travel halfway across the world. Because there is no truth to the idea that like- anytime we make a change that's controversial or a bit scary or different or new or unexpected, there's this idea that there's uh, some dude in a suit from Warner Brothers or Rooster Teeth standing just off-camera, sternly going, 'Make this decision. Follow this algorithm. We're chasing a demographic.' None of that is true. Rooster Teeth would be very happy if they continued making Achievement Hunter forever, but they weren't happy making Achievement Hunter, and they wanted to try a new thing.

They wanted to do what I did 15 years ago! They wanted to do what Ray did when he left Achievement Hunter, right? They wanted to bet on themselves and make their production. I love the work they put into- to mine, and I did my best to make it ours. But at the end of the day, I left Achievement Hunter five years ago! Uh, it would be really foolhardy and stupid and- and dickhead-ish of me to have a problem with them doing the same thing, uh, but it's also them. This is a decision that they made, that they wanted to make. It didn't come from anybody at Rooster Teeth or Warner Brothers. There was no, I don't know, this marketing department you always hear about that's telling them to make these decisions and- 'Chase the Gen Z crowd and come up- This is the name we've workshopped.' None of that's true! They came up with the name. They came up with the logo, they came up with the design, the color palette, the trailer, the content that's going to be released in a couple of weeks, that's all them! That's what they wanna do.

That is them following the same passion that I followed 15 years ago and the same passion that I followed when I created Let's Play, and the same passion that I that I followed when I created F**kface. And hopefully the same passion, the same passion that I created this with, and hopefully the same passion that I'll create the next and the next and the next thing with, and hopefully the same passion that they get to do, uh, as they continue their career. So all I'm asking for is give the new thing a chance, support it. It's a brave thing to do to walk out of the safety of Achievement Hunter into a new thing.

And also, uh, I've seen a lot of doomers that are saying like 'Ah, I called it ten years ago! I knew it was gonna fail!' It didn't fail. It ended. It was 15 fucking awesome years. And I'm going to stop talking now because I'm just going to get rambly. But I will say: There's a couple of weeks left of Achievement Hunter content coming out where they pay homage, if you will, to a lot of the videos and the shows from the past,, and the people from the past, and they have a lot of sweet things that they're going to do. And it'll culminate at the end with one last video that I am in where I get fucking verbose about my feelings about all of it. So if you want to hear more about my feelings of the 15 years of Achievement Hunter, I ask that you tune in to that last Achievement Hunter video. But I also ask that you tune into every video between now and then, because they're going to be saying goodbye to Achievement Hunter with a lot of love and respect and humor. And uh, I think that's what it deserves. And I hope that we all get to share in that together, and then, and then subscribe to Dogbark and give it a shot. [dog barks again] Thank you.

And uh, remember that all of these people that you've loved that have come and gone are still making content right now. Jack and BK, I think Jack's on vacation, but Jack and BK are over there in Inside Gaming, making content, playing video games 3, 4 hours a day, 3 or 4 days a week, playing Minecraft, playing all those old games that you loved to see us play. And Michael is making Face Jam every week. And Michael and Trevor and Alfredo and Joe are going to be making Dogbark every fucking day. And Gavin and I, we're making F**kface every day. And I'm making ANMA and I'm making So... Alright, and Ky has helped producing it all uh, behind the scenes.

Matt and Jeremy and Ray, they're streaming every fucking day of their lives, I believe. I think Jeremy's on, like, 18 days in a row right now, or something? [referring to Jeremy's uncapped subathon]. So all the people that you loved to support and who uh, entertained you throughout the years, they're still doing the thing that they love. They're just doing it in the way that they wanna do it, in the way that makes sense to them. And I just hope that you will be... respectful of that, and give them an opportunity to entertain you uh, in much the same way they entertained you last year and the year before and 5 years ago and 10 years ago. They just want to get up every day and make the best content they can make, and they're not- they're not making these decisions for any other reason than this is where their creative interests are leading them. And much like you gave me a chance 15 years ago, let's all give them a chance today. [dog barks again] That's it. I'm done. Let's open up some fucking cards."

[gunsatthaphan]

✌🏻✨ ~ 2023 wrap-up ~ ✨✌🏻

another year gone, another post no one asked for djkghdf

I normally don't talk about personal stuff on here but like in the previous year I wanted do a little recap and give shoutouts to some lovely people 🧡

It hasn't been an easy year for me, I started a new job which has been stressful and annihilated my work-life balance which resulted in me being sick a lot & just being stressed for most of the year lol. I barely found time to maintain this blog which may not seem like it on the outside since I somehow managed to frequently post but it's been difficult. I know I don't have to be online 24/7 but the fear of slipping into irrelevancy due to lack of content remains. I didn't have much time to watch bls & asian shows in general which I still consider my safe space and escapism so I'm resentful that I didn't get to fully take in and enjoy the things I'm passionate about and make content about them like I did in the previous years. That being said thank god for all the weekend shows that I did manage to watch and fully focus on like Only Friends and now Cooking Crush and Cherry Magic. Those have been life savers lol and also thank god for all the talented creators who gave us tons of content; I will mention some of them below.

But aside from my personal schedule and despite not watching a lot of stuff, I still tried to keep an eye on what's going on in the BL world for my monthly breakdowns, which I still enjoy making and I will likely continue them in 2024. I also came to the conclusion that 2023 ended up being another rendition of quantity > quality in the BL-verse so not much has changed lol - not that I expected it to. We got a wild and extended mix of different genres and subgenres this year which was nice to see. We saw companies & actors experimenting a lot (with varying results), we got new ships, new fandoms and new enemies, as well as a variety of comebacks and retirements. My watchlist this year was limited to Thai BLs and my blog mostly consisted of gmmtv related content and like I said, if I had had more time I probably would have explored more different shows - but I eventually resorted to what's familiar. I guess I needed an anchor in midst of all my personal chaos lol.

But despite my short list, there were a few gems that I enjoyed. The big ones like Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken, Be My Favorite, etc., and the small, less popular ones like Be Mine Superstar, Mission Fan Possible and a few more. I enjoyed talking to friends & making content about them in the limited timeframes I had. My opinions mostly matched those of the general public but unfortunately there were a few disappointments that were bathing in a success that I could not wrap my head around - Dangerous Romance and A Boss and a Babe being at the top of that list, followed by La Pluie and also a few of the lakorns I watched. But anyway.

Anyone who knows me knows my blog has been 83% FirstKhao this year lmao, they're my favorite people in this industry and watching them act, interact & making content about them has been one of my highlights. I'm excited to see what 2024 brings for them and even if it's not a series, I'm looking forward to seeing what else they will be up to 🥺 🐈‍⬛ 🐈

I'm going into 2024 with mixed feelings but above all I hope I will get the chance to expand my watchlist a little. I will post a personal top10 of the shows I watched this year shortly; until then I want to talk a bit about some lovely people this year - I’m not good with words lmao but thank you for being you and making this hellsite a better place 🥹 lol.

@leonpob - bestie!!! 🧡 our BL opinions have drifted apart this year lmao but who's to say friendships are solely based on mutual opinions. You're the best, stay the way you are and here's to another year of sharing thoughts and hopefully finding more shows to watch together (no matter if trash or not lol) 😉😘  @mayalunas - ahhhh I loved talking to you sooo so much this year, we agree on so many things that I'm convinced we share the same BL braincells lmao. You're one of my favorite people on this website, thank you for being such a good listener and a positive & supportive person to talk to 🥺 I hope you have the best 2024!!! ily!!! 🧡 @khunvegas - GURL idk where you went this year or if you still exist sdjkds but just know I haven't forgotten about you and I miss our talks 🥺 come back pls thank. @my-wandering-rabbit - I love our random out-of-context talks once a month lmao, I appreciate you and I hope we will continue our ritual of me watching shows and you asking me questions without watching them kjsdhg @bl-recs-and-reviews - Bestie!!! I love our catch-ups on Discord, you were one of the first people I ever talked to like 4 years ago? crazy. look at us. I still love you, you're the sweetest and I love talking to you 🧡🥺 @dreamedofyou - ahh I absolutely love your blog!!! I noticed you a lot in my notifications this year so I wanted to say thank you so much for interacting with my unhinged content (mostly FK related lmao) - We haven't talked a ton but I think of you as a very nice person and I hope we can talk more next year 🥹🫶��

and then of course some more shoutouts go out to all the wonderful and talented creators out there; I will never be able to tag all of you so sorry in advance but here are a few that I appreciate, some of which have also mentioned me in their wrap-up posts so thank you for that!!!

@taeminie @seatawinan @loveisactivated @forcebook @jimmysea @guzhu-furen @daymork @itsallaboutbl @seatawinans @blneobin @blmpfff @wanderlust-in-my-soul @pranpat @milkpansa @raypakorn @ahxu-laowen @forcebookish @forcebookcorner @morkofday @chinzillas @seajimmy @dimpledpran @i-got-the-feels @bengiyo @benkaaoi @25shadesoffebruary @moonkhao @smittenskitten @respectthepetty @earthfluuke @pharawee @khaotunq @khaotunqs @pranink @gabrielokun @piningintrovert @zhaozi @markpakin @firstkanaphans @firstforkhao @khaotungsfirst @wen-kexing-apologist @firstkpp @firstmix @bunnakit @khaothanawat @alienwlw @ffirstkhao (I can't tag the last 4 for some reason..)

have the best 2024!!!

🧡🧡🧡

[roseofhybrids]

i put a microphone near your face

how are you feeling after that md stuff huh

Well, the fact that it'll be the end of the series makes it a bit bittersweet, but it had to end at some point. If the story can be told in 8 episodes then so be it. 8 is a lot more than what I had a little over a year ago when I first decided to watch it

I've been invested in quite a few projects that I've never seen get a conclusion to (mostly webcomics, so so many unfinished webcomics). Which is probably where I got the patience to wait as long as I do for these sorts of things. It's easy to wait a few months for an episode to air after waiting multiple years for things that never came to be

Having an ending is much better than the limbo of always being stuck somewhere in the middle, just being left to wonder forever what was meant to happen. So I'm overjoyed that we'll get to see this story get a proper ending

But it is still bittersweet. The show will end, and for a lot of people that means the fandom ending too. I don't believe that's the case, no matter how old something is or how long it's been over for, I see no reason to stop getting as invested as one does with a brand-new piece of media. But still, not everyone can stick around forever. So I'm preparing myself for people to move on. It's sad, but as inevitable as the show itself ending. No matter how long-lasting a fandom, members will move on to other things eventually. Personally, I don't see myself stopping the fan art any time soon. I've never had a reaction to a show like this before. I've gotten really invested in things the same way before, but all those instances it eventually died down after a few weeks and I could stop binge-watching/reading the thing over and over and just be normal about it.

Murder Drones on the other hand. It's been well over a year at this point. I managed to pull my shit together after two weeks like I usually do, but a fraction of the intensity lingered. Now I'm here, with 109 post tagged "murder drones fanart" and 623 just tagged "murder drones" according to the Tumblr archive

I still get giddy rewatching the episodes, still have a long ever-growing list of drawing ideas, still think about the little robots on a daily basis. So yeah, I think I might just be stuck like this the same way I'm stuck forever liking animals, ghosts, and roller coasters. Eventually I'll have to get back to drawing my own characters and one day make my own comics and such. But as things stand, I can see myself still drawing MD art for years. One can only hope I can balance the two out

So yeah, how I'm feeling, Excitement for another episode and finally seeing how this all ends. Dread for the inevitable change, not looking forward to that part, (the joys of living with an anxiety disorder am I right fellas? c'est la vie, c'est la mort) and just a touch of nausea, because this is a lot of excitement after just waking up

so anyhow, gunna go watch the trailer on repeat a couple times and then see if I can't calm myself down a bit afterward

[billthedrake]

DAD'S HABIT

It had become a birthday tradition. Ever since my parents' divorce, Dad would treat me each year to a guys' night in the city. I was a hockey player, and my father the textbook hockey dad, and we were both big Rangers fans. So every year, Dad would drive me to New York, where we'd spend two nights and catch a home game.

I think Dad thought I'd outgrow it as I got closer to graduation, but I enjoyed the father-son bonding time as much as he did. My father is a brash, blue-collar kind of guy. Very heart on his sleeve, but also not good at talking about emotional stuff. The divorce made him even more closed off, but I knew he always looked forward to his custody weekends with me. Even at the pissiest, moodiest points of my teenage years, I got it.

I could tell Dad was surprised after I went off to college - on a hockey scholarship at a New England college - when I asked if we were still doing my birthday trip.

"You bet, buddy," he beamed with barely contained excitement in his voice. "Though I guess we'll need to wait till your season's over."

So that's what we did. A few days later he got back to me wondering if I'd want to catch an away series in Boston later that spring. That's how a new tradition got started, going to different cities each April.... Chicago, Montreal, and now that I'm 22 this year the trip is in DC.

The first night, Dad and I found a sports bar, where we watched a couple of games, but mostly caught up. About school, life, and just boring stuff. Dad seemed to be in a good mood, chattier than normal, and just happier with life. His contracting work was going well, and he promised that he'd take me out for a nice steak dinner the next night.

I asked him if he was dating any one, but he just cocked a grin and shook his head. "Nothing serious," he said with an uncharacteristic blush. "I mean, your old man gets out there for a little fun now and then, but I don't know if I'm ready to date."

"Dad!" I objected with a laugh. The man had given me the birds and bees talk and had checked in with me a couple of times. I'd admitted to him that I'd become sexually active, though I made up more experience with women than I really had. But we weren't the kind of family who talked much about sex.

"Goddamnit, Joey," he chuckled. "You're not a kid any more. I figure you know the score."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, pressing my leg against my father's next to the bar. "Guess you don't get used to the idea of your parents having a life."

"Could probably use a little more of one, to be honest," Dad chimed. God, he was really opening up this evening. "What about you, son? I thought you'd be going steady with someone by now."

"Nah," I hemmed and hawed, trying to hide my embarrassment. I'd gotten real good at bullshitting with my buddies and my teammates but for some reason had a harder time lying to Dad.

My father's hand clasped on my shoulder. "s' OK, I'm not gonna pester you like your mother does," he said. "I guess I wouldn't be a good Dad if I didn't want to know what's going on in your life."

Looking into his gruffly handsome face and his puppy dog brown eyes, I was THIS close to telling him. About the gay thing, about my doubts, about how I wanted to tell everyone but was too fucking scared. How I seemed to be putting my life off until after college.

Instead I gave a silent nod of acknowledgment and turned my head back up to the big TV screen behind the bar. Dad followed suit.

***

We were three beers in when Dad said the day was catching up with him. "It's early though, you should stay out," he urged. "Have some fun."

I almost said no, but it was barely 9 o'clock, and a part of me wanted to take advantage of some independent time. I told Dad I'd maybe stay out for a while longer.

"You got the spare room key, right?"

I told him I did. "I won't be out long," I said.

"I hope you are," he chuckled. "Seriously, enjoy yourself, Joey," he said as he got up from his bar stool. I try to not to perv on my old man but seeing him in his casual jeans and sweatshirt, it was hard not to admire his sturdy body. I mean, Dad's got a beer belly but otherwise is pretty damn solid. I felt his strength as he gave my shoulder one last squeeze before bidding me good night.

I gave it maybe five minutes after he left, then I downed my drink and found my way to the Metro to Dupont Circle. I'd only been to a gay bar twice before, and each time was nerve wracking as hell. But something about being in a different city made me feel anonymous. I felt giddy and excited as I walked the blocks to some bar I found on Google.

Maybe I picked the wrong place, or maybe it was too early, but the bar was dead. I may have been anonymous, but I stuck out in the place, the only dude under 40 in a place of older man. That would have been fine. I mean, I kind of get turned on by men in their late 30s, or 40s and 50s. But a couple of obnoxious guys made a beeline for me in turn, as soon as I got my beer. I tried to do the thanks but no thanks, thing but they wouldn't fucking let up. It brought out my whole anxiety about being in the place to begin with. I didn't even finish my beer, I just bolted out of there.

The whole way back to the hotel, I was frustrated and maybe a little mad at myself. I maybe should have tried another bar, but at this point I wasn't in the mood.

I tried to be quiet when I got back to the hotel room. There was the click of the key card, but other than that I slipped into the room silently, so I wouldn't wake Dad. It took me a second to realize that the light was on, and that Dad was hardly asleep. I was a few steps in the room, far enough to see half of the beds, when I realized what the fuck was happening.

"You like that cock, Daddy?" the voice was youthful and masculine, and it seemed to match the very attractive athletic younger guy who was boning my father doggy style.

My beefy bodied old man was bracing himself on all fours and actually bucking his meaty ass back against every hard thrust. If I wasn't hard yet, that sight alone made my cock feel more rigid than I'd ever felt.

"You know it, buddy," my father growled in that deep, loud voice of his. "Pound my fucking hole." God, Dad was being really loud and his sex talk seemed to echo off the walls. I hoped to God there was soundproofing, then realized I hadn't heard anything before stepping into the room.

The young dude just gripped Dad's waist and used the leverage to pull my father's body back and forth onto his shaft. "You wanna do the scene we talked about, man?" the guys asked, quiet in his voice now.

Dad nodded and blushed beet red. "Yeah, let's go for it."

The top's chest seemed to puff proudly. I couldn't believe they'd not noticed me. Hell, I couldn't believe I had the balls or the stupidity to just stand there and watch them. But they were so caught up in their mating. The man's hips now slowed to a slow sexy grind and he leaned forward and kissed along Dad's thick shoulder and neck. "I've wanted to do this for so long, Dad," he growled. "After every hockey practice."

"Oh god, yeah, Joey!" my father hissed, not as loud this time.

WHAT THE FUCK!?!

My heart pounded and my dick throbbed, but my mind was in a major head-fuck place now. I was actually hyperventilating, and the voyeurism had gone from a sexual turnon to a sense of invading Dad's privacy, or seeing something I shouldn't have seen. I backed out as quietly as I entered, and let the door open and shut as silently as I could.

"Fuck!" I hissed to myself as I stood in the hallway, feeling my heart race. I tried to gather my thoughts to something that would get my dick to go down. It half worked, but not fully. I thought of going somewhere else for a while, even the hotel lobby. But I had to know. Know who'd been fucking Dad. Probably not a boyfriend, cause Dad never came to DC. Maybe some dude from Grindr, I don't know.

It took ten minutes, maybe a little more. I waited down the hall, by the elevator bank, and when I heard the click of the door, I peered out. The first one was a different room, but the second, a minute later, was from ours. I pretended like I was I just coming from the elevators and walked slowly down the hall. The dude was busy with his phone as he walked, texting or something so I could get a good look at him. I'd seen his body in profile, but now that I saw him head on, wearing joggers and a zip up pullover, I could make out that he was almost a dead ringer for me! Blue eyes to my brown, and higher cheekbones, but otherwise there was so much similar. Same height, same athletic build, same dark brown hair, same jockish demeanor.

"Hey," he grunted in acknowledgement as we passed. Bro to bro.

"Hey," I said, nervously, trying to pass it off as a normal exchange. He kept on his way, and I paused at the room door, wondering if he'd look back. He never did.

I wasn't quiet this time. I wanted to give Dad time notice. I shut the door loudly and called out, "Hey Dad."

"Hey, buddy," he called out. He was lying back in bed, watching some sports news on the TV with the volume turned down. Wearing only a thin pair of gym shorts, his body was relaxed and I got a good chance to admire his muscle. Big bulging arms, rounded shoulders, and full hard pecs. Dad's surprisingly smooth for a guy his age, but there was a dusting of hair on his chest and torso... finer and lighter colored than my own body hair. Below his pecs there was some extra weight... more than middle aged spread, I guess, though his beer belly was shy of a full gut. On Dad it looked hot. The thin fabric didn't leave too much to the imagination, but my father's genitals were soft so didn't form too much of a package. And in some ways those thighs stole the show, with a rounded curve and palpable meatiness. They were hairier than his upper body but not outright furry.

I couldn't believe this man, my father, had just taken dick like a porn star.

I snapped out of my perving reverie and rifled though my bag for my own pair of shorts. No way was I sleeping in just underwear tonight. I even pulled out some compression to layer underneath, to keep any boner in check.

I ducked into the bathroom to piss, change, brush my teeth, and just collect myself. When I got out, bare chested as Dad, he was still on the other bed, absorbed in whatever boring sports talk program was on. I couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being. Then again, maybe getting laid puts you in that kind of mood.

I settled onto the other double bed and pretended to be interested in the TV. I'd sneak glanced over at my father, to get a look at his half naked body but also to imagine that forbidden spot between his legs, deep in his ass. No way did he have the chance to shower off after sex, and I just knew that cleft and hole were still wet with lube.... and if the guy didn't put on a condom, then cum as well.

I had to lift my leg and surreptitiously reach down to pinch the base of my cock to tame the hardon. Compression would only do so much.

"Have fun tonight?" Dad finally asked. "I thought you'd be out longer."

The messed up thing was that I felt guilty for coming back too early, of not giving my father enough time to hook up with a dude. "It was all right," I said. "Just wasn't feeling it."

He looked over at me, his brown eyes filled with normal fatherly concern. "Yeah, buddy? I figured a good looking dude like you would be able to score a hot girl for the night."

"Dad!" I objected.

"What?" he asked. As if his concern were just a normal dad's male bonding with his son. In another instance it might be, but I knew now that Dad got off on the idea of me fucking. That's why he was always asking me about girls.

I had every intention of playing dumb. Of just filing this evening back into my memory bank for stroke sessions. Because this was potentially explosive stuff.

Instead I picked up that stick of emotional TNT. "I, um, saw you guys... just now... earlier," I eked out through a shaky voice.

Dad's relaxed, happy go lucky face turned dead serious. "Oh," he said. "I thought I head the door click." He looked at me and I just knew what he was thinking. He was trying to figure out just how much I'd seen. "Sorry you had to see that Joey."

"Guess I should have picked up the hint you wanted some alone time," I said. Trying to pass it off like Dad was my dorm roommate needing to get laid. I even forced a chuckle to make light of the weirdness.

Dad turned off the TV and turned toward me. God, I wished he wasn't looking so hot just then. Chest and arm muscle bulging as his body pivoted toward me. "I'm serious, Joe... I didn't mean.... Damnit... I guess you know now... your old man likes to have a little fun now and then."

It was none of my business, but curiosity won out. "He wasn't your boyfriend or anything, was he?" I mean, it didn't seem likely but I had to know if I was getting a step dad my age.

He shook his head. "Nothing like that, son," he said, pausing before adding, "It's just, well, sometimes I splurge on a hustler."

It was a weird first reaction, but I was a little mad that Dad paid that dude when any number of men would be lucky to fuck him. But as the memory of that primal scene flashed in my head, I was getting rock hard again. "Dad, I'm pretty sure you don't need to pay anyone."

Dad's eyes were on me intently now. Deciding how to take my comment. "Sometimes I want someone who's not gonna pass judgment," he said quietly. Damn he was making himself vulnerable now, for sure.

I was too. Meeting his gaze, I said, less quietly now, "I'm not gonna pass judgment, Dad."

"No?" he asked. I could hear his voice catch in his throat.

"Nope. And I hope you don't pass judgment on me," I replied.

"What would I...?" Dad started to ask before he let out a surprised, "oh!"

I'd pulled my legs out and was revealing my hardon to dad. Even beneath the shorts and through the compression, my ridge of college-jock cock was visible. My heart raced nervously but I also sat up proudly in bed and spread my legs further to show my dick off to my father.

"Fuck, you're big, Joey," he gapsed, without thinking before he took his eyes off my crotch and looked back up at me. "How long?"

"I dunno, Dad," I said. "Maybe 7 and a half inches. Almost eight."

"Shit," he grunted. Then shook his head. "But I meant how long have you had a thing for me?"

"Honest, Dad?" I replied. "I don't know. Maybe longer than I realized."

He nodded, taking in the information.

I looked over at my father and could see his dick firming up to a spike again in those shorts. "How long have you had a thing for me, Dad?"

"Maybe longer than I realized, too," he shot back, now sitting up on the bed, facing me. "I swear Joey, I tried not to go there, but you grew into such a hot fucking stud."

I'd had sex with men a couple of times before, and I'd enjoyed the naughty thrill of it. But this just seemed to click, the mutual sexual attraction. The fact Dad was as boned for me as I was for him made me wish we weren't father and son.

Then again, that was the thrill of it, too.

With a playful grin, I hooked my thumbs in my shorts and pulled them up over my boner. Dad was silent and his attention fixated watching this simple, taboo act. I slid off the shorts and the compression and let my long, thick cock ride up. It was fully engorged and stood up from my treasure trail at a rigid angle.

Dad gulped again and looked up at me. "We doing this, son?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, scooting off the bed and standing up. Horniness winning out over my nerves. "We're fucking doing this."

I heard a low rumble as my butch father scooted over and with one hand on my leg to guide me, he took me into his mouth.

"Holy fuck!" I gasped. At first it was just the sheer forbidden fact that my own father was licking and now sucking my bone. But quickly I was going wild at realizing how frickin' good Dad was at this. Not going for the kill, he gave slow, sensual head that seemed to be worshipful and did the trick of working me up to a boil without sending me over the edge.

I'd had guys suck my dick a couple of times, but I'd never fully gotten a blowjob, not for real. Dad was giving me my first.

"Dad," I hissed, spreading my legs to brace my body and running my fingers softly through his light-brown hair to encourage him. I rode out the incredible incestuous pleasure, then had to put on the breaks. "Dad..." I urged, using my fingers to nudge his skull back off me. "I don't wanna cum yet."

My father let out a soft, deep growl as my wet thick prick cleared his lips. And just as quickly as he'd taken me into his mouth, his face dove down to start tonguing and kissing my balls.

"You've turned into such a stud, all right," I heard him say between kisses. "Big fucking balls, too."

I'd had two hookups with older men. Men Dad's age. One was fun, the other I felt a little skeeved out by the man's lecherous fixation on my youth. But with Dad, I responded instantly to his worshipful lust for me. Something about it brought out both my loving and aggressive side. Holding the back of his head, I pulled him roughly into my crotch, then relaxed my grip and patted his head affectionately. Dad seemed to love that.

"I wanna fuck you, Dad," I let out. As I said the words, I knew they were a messed up thing to think, much less say. I was so horny, though, and after seeing Dad practically slut out earlier, my dick was doing the thinking for me.

Dad pulled back, spit on his lips and excitement in his brown eyes. "Yeah, Joey?"

If I didn't know before, I had a pretty good confirmation that Dad had thought a LOT about that very idea. His hand stroked my spit-wet prick, as if he was sizing up how much he'd feel my size.

A nagging doubt hit me. Not incest, but my inexperience. "I might not have the moves that hustler did, but I wanna bone you, Dad."

Dad leaned back, his burly body on display for me, with its hard blue-collar muscle and that extra bulk. He was beautiful and my cock twitched seeing his masculine build offered before me. "How you want me? On all fours?"

I stepped back for a better view, shaking my head. "Face to face," I growled, feeling my cock twitch. I'd had my experiences with men and a hell of a lot of self time with porn. This was better than both combined. "I wanna make out with my dad while I fuck him."

"Joey," Dad grunted, scrambling up to lie back on the bed. I was following him, already greedily tugging at the waist band of his shorts. The elastic snagged on his erection, but he helped me work it over and off his thighs, before I pulled the shorts off and tossed them aside. "This is SO fucking wrong, son," he hissed, and I knew we were on the same wavelength. Riding that taboo.

"Fuck yeah, it's wrong," I growled, the words almost catching in my throat I was so turned on. "A son shouldn't wanna fuck his father."

Dad honest to god whimpered at that. Or maybe it was the feel of my hardon nudging along his thigh as I leaned down and claimed a kiss.

This itself was a line crossed, more than the cocksucking, more than the sex talk. I was French kissing my own father and he was sucking my tongue into his mouth before battling it with his own. We grunted into our kiss, humping our heated bodies and feeling that incredible flesh-on-flesh contact.

This desire had been bottled up so deep inside me, but this evening had brought it out so quickly, I knew it was always there. Knew my father had been deep in my psyche as I masturbated all these years. Knew he was an implicit comparison for any man I went for.

I'd have to ask Dad where I fit into his fantasies, or if there were other men, young men, in his life. All I knew now was how hungrily he held me and felt up my hockey-jock body and spread his legs, inviting me in, then wrapping those feet around to guide me to enter him.

I wasn't hustler-skilled, so I had to reach down and guide my rigid cock to root around for his entrance. But that escort had left a good amount of lube there, and as I nudged my father's recently-fucked pucker, I could tell there was a good deal of cum, too. The idea excited me and made me jealous at the same time. That fucker should have been paying Dad for the privilege...

I thrust inside my old man. Between the suddenness and my size, it was a LOT for Dad to take. Turns out the man liked it that way. He growled into our kiss and used his heels against my strong ass to urge me on.

I didn't need my invitation engraved. I let my body and my hormonal need take over. I fucked Dad, maybe just shy of rough, but definitely hard. And the faster and deeper I went the more the big man's body responded beneath me.

"Fuck me, Joe," he grunted as I broke the kiss and leaned up to get a good look at the man I was shafting, the man who made me.

"You love your son's cock in you?" I prodded.

"Fuck yeah," Dad replied. "Hot fucking incest."

That alone about got me to cum. My hips were a blur of motion and I was THIS close to orgasm.

"Open your mouth, Dad," I urged. I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I think I'd seen it a porn video and something about Dad's need made me wanna try it.

My father opened his mouth and I did it. I spit right into it, hitting the back of his throat like a bullseye target.

Dad actually fucking whimpered once I did.

I hawked some more spit and let it fly once more. And that did it, I was cumming HARD. Harder than I ever had in my life. My hips were now longer thrusting madly but giving a couple of deep jerks into my dad's guts to add my seed to that hustler's.

Dad was rock hard against my abs as we made out and held each other. Holding on to each other and not wanting this father-son fuck to end.

After a couple of minutes I realized I didn't have to end. Dad hadn't gotten off, and I was still rock hard. I could probably go for another... yeah, I could definitely go for another. My hips began a soft, shallow thrust, enough for Dad to feel it inside him.

"You going for another, Joey?" he asked, surprised and excited.

I nodded, smiling down on my father. His hair was matted down with sweat and he had a vulnerable edge to his handsome looks. I felt a strange sexual domination over my old man, but a hell a lot of love, too. It was all in the mix.

"You ever been fucked all night, Dad?" I asked, putting on my deepest, sternest voice I could manage. Yeah, maybe it was a boast, but at that point I felt I had it in me. In any case, I wanted to try.

"God, Joe," Dad hissed. His hands openly massaged my arm muscle, not as big and round as his guns but still with that athletic harness from sports and working out regularly.

I grinned, feeling playful as hell. "Is that a 'God, Joe,' I can't handle that? Or a 'God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe'?" I teased.

I felt Dad's heels on my ass cheeks again. "God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe.... son."

"You got it... Dad."

[desertfangs]

I haven't yet read the books (there's so many!) I've only watched the iwtv movie and TV show and I love Claudia in both but I've had people tell me in the books she's awful and considered to be one of the series villains. Idc about spoilers I just wanna know how true that is bc I dunno if I'd want to read that lol

Hi anon! I was excited to see your ask this morning because I'm gonna tell you something: Claudia was one of my first favorite characters in the series and her death devastated me. Louis was my first fav (understandable, he's literally the protagonist of the first book, we're meant to sympathize with him!) and when he lost Claudia and became numb in his grief, I related. I hated Armand for what happened to Claudia and I held a grudge for a long time.

Anyhow, I can't speak to the show so much as I've only seen season 1, but if you like the 94 movie, you will probably like the novel Interview with the Vampire. It's a pretty close adaptation.

To get to the heart of your question, no, Claudia not an awful villain. Anymore than Louis or Lestat are. If anyone is a villain in IwtV, it's Armand, and even he is not a mustache-twirling evil guy.* Everyone in this series in morally gray and does terrible stuff. I emphasize that because I've been in this fandom for a long time and I've seen all kinds of arguments about who is evil and who is not, and the fact is, all of our vampires do questionable things. That's sort of the point. So it's arguable how much there even is a villain in IwtV outside of Louis' own depression and grief, but Armand probably gets that honor.

Claudia in the books was turned around the age of 5. She is a very small, doll-like child who doesn't seem to retain much, if any, memory of her human life. She is more purely a vampire than Louis or Lestat can really fathom because she lacks that humanity and a connection to humans. She's a natural hunter and killer.

She doesn't understand Louis' sentimentality for humans, and resents Lestat for withholding information she knows he has about their kind. She is a complex and fascinating woman trapped in the body of a small child to the point where even Louis, who loves her dearly, cannot really see her as an adult and struggles to accept her agency. She does manipulate both her parents, in part because they don't often see her as a capable equal, which she very much is.

She does eventually rise up to kill to Lestat out of desperation. She believes he will not let Louis go and knows she can't travel around alone, given her appearance. Lestat himself is devastated by this and by her loss, and even says later he understands why she did it. That he probably deserved it for what he'd done to her, which was trap her forever in the body of a very young child, something he admits was selfish. (And something Marius had actually warned him against doing beforehand, LOL!!)

Like in the movie and the show, she does die at the Theatre des Vampires, and Armand is more responsible for that than I've heard he is on the show (he tells Louis he couldn't have stopped it, only to later reveal he orchestrated it, which Louis knew the whole time).

She appears later in The Tale of the Body Thief mocking Lestat and acting as a sort of voice for his subconscious, but she is just his hallucination in he book. He's dealing with a lot of trauma and grief and that manifests itself as Claudia's ghost.

Where you might be hearing she's a villain is from Merrick, where both her diary and spirit appear and are... not very nice. I gotta say, I am not convinced that is actually the spirit of Claudia that gets conjured, and even if it is, it's possible she's been warped somehow. But I also haven't read that book in decades and often tend to ignore it, so I am not an expert on that score.

I hope this helps! I'm always happy to answer questions about the books! (They are my special interest, if you cannot tell.)

But I do want to say that if you are a fan of the show and curious about the books--which are very different!--I highly recommend you read at least the first few yourself. The best way to judge if you'll like the book versions of the characters and story is to experience it yourself. There's a lot of misinformation that gets passed along about the books, and a lot of misinterpretation due to that because people just repeat what they've heard without having read them. And hey, they still may not be your cup of tea, and that's totally fine! But you won't know if you don't try, you know?

Anyhow, thank you so much for the ask! 💖 Claudia is awesome and deserves more love in the book fandom, but because she dies so early on, she doesn't get as much attention sadly.

*And even when he is, we love him.

[missmaywemeetagain]

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, he’s cared too much.

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

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

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

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

He’s too late.

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

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

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always be alone.

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

You can’t seem to escape him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn him and Sandy both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

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

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

 At all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

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

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

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

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

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

He’s loved you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

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

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

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

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

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d called her last night.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On your knees,” you command.

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

“Did I stutter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me,” you command.

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words,” you order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s all yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your back,” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” he nods back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

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

He can only manage a whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still sensitive, you think.

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

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

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

“I love you,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

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

Here, with Elvis.

*

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

*

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

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

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

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[katnisspeetaprim]

High Risk

A.N. So I hope you don't mind but I'm using the Suchwita couple for this request since its fits with theor story line! So this would be part 3 of that series. (Link to part 1!) Plus I know nothing about pregnancy, just the basics so take it with a pinch of salt!

Warnings: pregnancy, complications, angst

Word Count: 3070 M.list

You and Yoongi, along with BigHit all decided that it would be best to keep your pregnancy private from the public, at least until you really started showing.

You wanted to keep working for as long as possible and Yoongi agreed. He knew you would be miserable and depressed just sitting at home alone, so he was supportive of you continuing to work, as long as you didn’t do anything too strenuous or stressful. You were currently 6, almost 7 months pregnant and you were definitely showing. Your team had taken to dressing you in exclusively baggy and oversized outfits, even having you sit down on stage and blaming it on illness.

You knew you would have to go on hiatus soon and Yoongi would also do so at the same time. You had to admit, you were excited. You and Yoongi barely had time off together, so suddenly getting to spend a few months together, then meet your baby at the end of it? It sounded like heaven on Earth.

‘Are you finished for the night?’ Yoongi spoke down the phone.

‘Yeah.’ You sighed. ‘Finally. Pre-recordings are always so boring.’ Yoongi chuckled. He knew you had always struggle with the boring stuff that came with being an idol, mainly the hours of waiting and doing nothing, especially now that you were pregnant, sitting around for hours were pure torture.

‘Y/N! Are you coming?’ Your group leader, Yuna, called over to you. You were all pretty tired after being at the studio all day, so you wasted little time changing into loungewear before you leave.

‘I’m coming! Yoon I have to go. I’ll see you in a couple days?’

‘Yeah I should go too. I love you.’

‘Love you too! Bye babe!’

‘How are you doing Y/N?’ The youngest in the group, Mallory, asked. You smiled at her as she placed her hand on your stomach.

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ You chuckled.

‘YAH! Hurry up you two! We want to leave!’ chi, the fourth and final member of your group yelled out impatiently.

‘OK, ok! We’re coming!’

The four of you were waiting at the V.O.P exit, when your manager walked back in with a perplexed look on his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ Yuna stepped forwards.

‘It’s not good. There are a lot of fans and reporters out there.’ He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

‘Do they have nothing better to do? It’s like 1AM..’ Chi scoffed in frustration. Mallory nudged her shoulder and caste her a look.

‘So what do we do?’

‘We don’t have a choice but to push through. Y/N, will you be alright?’ Everyone turned to you, now realising you had been quiet the whole time. You bought your hands to your stomach protectively.

‘Well... We don’t have a choice...’ You trailed off, unconvinced by the situation.

‘The security will keep you safe Y/N, don’t worry!’ Mallory put her arm round your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you, though it did nothing to soothe your nerves.

‘Ok. Keep moving and don’t stop. The car isn’t far. Let’s go!’

You and the girls held onto each other as you pushed through the screaming crowd. You thought fans  had gotten better in recent years, as in the fact that they didn’t crowd round idols like this anymore.... Seems like you were wrong...

There was no barrier, so the crowd was basically rubbing up against you all and your lowly security guard was no match for the immense crowd.

You were almost to the car when you suddenly felt someone tightly grab your arm and forcefully yank you towards them. The shock of being grabbed and the force in which they did it, caught you completely off guard. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion as you felt yourself falling to the ground with a loud SMACK!

‘Y/N!’ You heard your group mates calling out for you, and you could only watch in horror as they all got whisked away by your manager.

The people around you started to crowd you even more, and started to roughly grab at you whilst you were on the ground. You’re sure they didn’t mean to, but you suddenly felt something hard hit into your stomach, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.

Your curled up into a ball in an attempt to protect yourself, but it was getting to be too much. You couldn’t breathe and you were in a lot of pain. You just wanted to see Yoongi.

You heard someone yelling out and shouting your name, before you completely blacked out.

You woke with a start, panicking when you didn’t immediately recognise your surroundings, but soon realised you were in a hospital bed.

You groaned in pain when you tried to sit up, so you stayed down. It was only then that you felt someone sitting at your bed side.

‘Yoongi...’ You whispered, voice hoarse. His head was laid out on his arms on the edge of your bed. His hair was a mess and you could tell he’d haphazardly thrown on whatever clothes were closest to him. You stretched your arm out and rested your hand on his head, gently stroking across his hair.

Yoongi stirred at your touch and his eyes parted slightly, before falling again. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his tired state. it was when he hear your quiet laughter that his eyes shot open and he sprung up when he realised you were awake.

‘Y/N! Oh my god!’ He reached forwards and took your face in his hands, only to begin peppering kisses all over your face.

You clung to his arms as he hovered over you..

‘Yoongi...’ You whimpered, suddenly feeling emotional. He pulled back and stroked your forehead. You frowned up at him as you began to feel claustrophobic laying down on your back, so with a groan you once again tried to pull yourself up. Yoongi jumped in to help when he saw you wince in pain.

‘Easy! You’ve been out for a few hours.’ He fluffed your pillows up behind you, before sitting back down and dragging his chair closer to the bed.

‘Yuna and the girls stayed for a while, but your manager took them home to get rest.’ Yoongi explained to you whilst reaching for your hand.

‘God I feel rough right now...’ You groaned out as you grabbed at your head.

‘There’s something else too...’ Yoongi trailed off. You looked up and saw that he had a solemn look on his face.

‘What is it? Please tell me the other girls didn’t get hurt!’

‘No they are all fine.’ You sighed in relief. ‘When I got here, the doctors told me that you were bleeding...’ You stared at him for a second, mulling over his words, when you felt your blood run cold.

‘What do you mean bleeding!?’ You stuttered out, already feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. Yoongi immediately picked up on your change of state, and once again stood and enveloped you in a hug.

‘Yoongi- our baby-‘

‘Easy, easy. The baby’s fine!.’  He gently stroked your hair as you tried to control your breathing.

‘You were bleeding but they stopped it. The doctor wanted to speak to both of us when you woke up.’ Yoongi explained gently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whilst you cradled your swollen stomach.

‘Go get them.’

Not 10 minutes later, the doctor was stood at the end of your bed, while you held Yoongi’s hand in a vice like grip.

‘how are you feeling Mrs. Min?’

‘Awful. Yoongi said you wanted to speak to us?’ You wanted to get right to the point and get the hell ou of there.

‘Well... I’m sure Yoongi told you about the bleeding?’ You both nodded.

‘Well we checked you over and the baby is fine... However because of the blow you took the baby i under a lot of stress, so we’re concerned that you could become high risk.’ You face fell at the doctors words and you squeezed his had even tighter, as if that were possible.

‘So... What does that mean?’ You timidly asked.

‘I’m strongly suggesting you go on maternity immediately, and stay on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.’ Your face fell. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. You heard Yoongi quietly thank the doctor as they left the room. The click of the door was all it took for you to burst into tears.

‘Jagi, please don’t cry. You’re ok.’ Yoongi soothed.

‘I know I’m being stupid, but I feel so awful right now.’ You sobbed out. Your maternity date was coming up soon anyway, but you thought you would at least be able to go on your own terms..

Yoongi was trying his best to comfort you, but it was all falling on deaf ears.

Without warning, you shoved Yoongi away and swung your legs over the side of the bed, only stopping when a sharp pain shot across your abdomen.

‘Ah!’

‘Hey stop! What are you doing?’ He scrambled to stop you, not wanting you to hurt yourself even more.

‘Did you drive here?’ You snapped harshly.

‘Y-yeah but-‘

‘Then take me home. I’m not staying here a second longer.’ Yoongi was taken aback by your sudden harsh tone, but scarpered away to find you a wheelchair. He knew he shouldn’t take you snapping at him to heart, you were just upset and scared and probably in pain.

You hated feeling useless and you were stubborn too, so Yoongi knew that keeping you in bed for the next 2 months was going to be a real chore... But he would be with you ever step of the way.

Afew hours later, Yoongi had contacted your manager on your behalf to explain the situation. The man explained that he would contact Yoongi’s manager and gt back to him with a plan. They had asked Yoongi if he would be returning to work, but he out right refused, knowing that you needed him more than ever right now.

As Yoongi hung up the phone, he noticed he’d been sent the link to a news article by Hoseok.

Hobi: Thought you would want to know what actually happened. :/

When Yoongi clicked on the article, he was disgusted at what he saw. There was a video of the incident and he watched in horror as people basically trampled all over you. You could have been killed, pregnant or not. Needless to say, seeing that video did nothing to improve his mood. He glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. It was just past 7AM and he’d been up for nearly 24 hours at this point. He was exhausted. You’d already gone to bed and he was about to join you. He left his phone on the kitchen table. If someone needed him, then they would have to come to the house and physically drag him out of bed.

Since you and Yoongi had both dropped off the face of the Earth, everyone was worried. They all wanted to come and see you, but also wanted to give you space during this time.

It was around mid day when you decided you couldn’t sleep anymore, but you couldn’t get up either. Yoongi was still sleeping soundly beside you, so you picked up your phone, only to be met with a wall of text messages from your group and also BTS.

You were moved by their concerned and caring messages, so much so that it bought happy tears to your eyes.

‘Jagi? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?’ Yoongi’s worried voice pulled you rom your trance. He was now sat up and moved closer so he could cuddle you. You turned to him and smiled.

‘No I’m fine. Just our friends being sickeningly sweet.’ Yoongi smiled himself as he read the messages over your shoulder.

‘I called your manager earlier by the way.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah he’s going to talk to mine and get back to us today.’ Yoongi explained while stroking your back.

‘Are they gonna put out a statement?’ You asked hesitantly. You’d done so well to hide your pregnancy till this point, and you’d hoped to hide it a little longer, but if the company thought it beast to announce it, then so be it.

‘Yeah. They’ll probably email the draft over.’ There was a beat of silence.

‘I told them I’m not going back to work.’ Yoongi suddenly dropped, causing you to snap your eyes to him in shock.

‘What!? Why would you do that!?’

‘You and the baby is my number one right now. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I wasn’t here... Again..’ You cringed at the word again. You knew Yoongi felt guilty for not being there to protect you, even though he was on the other side of the city at the time. You obviously didn’t blame him for what happened. You scooted forwards as best you could and stroked his cheek.

‘Yoongi... What happened wasn’t your fault.’

‘I know. But I want to be here with you.’ You smiled sadly and leaned over to peck his lips, before smirking. You trailed your hand down from his face, and rested it just below his stomach, running your fingers along the hem of his boxers.

‘In that case, I’m glad I get you to myself for the next few months.’ You teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. He laughed at your implication and moved your hand away.

‘Don’t make jokes like that when you can’t deliver!’

A few hours later, you and Yoongi received the statement, now all you had to do was give it the green light. No going back now.

With bated breath, you waited anxiously for the statement to go live.

You’d learned long ago to not look at online comments and that wasn’t about to change now, but it was hard to avoid completely.

You felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders when the positive reactions to your pregnancy started rolling in. You even got congratulatory messages from other idols and celebrities alike, which was sweet.

You found that in more recent years, fans online tended to have better reactions to things like this than they did years ago. Maybe it was because they’d grown up, or just  became more mature over time. Whatever it was, you were thankful.

You remember a time back in the day when people online were convinced you and Taemin from SHINee were dating, all because he picked up your dropped cue cards for you. The hate you got was insane to say the least, so much so that both BigHit and SM put out statements denying any involvement between the two of you.

Being on bed rest wasn’t nearly as bad as you first thought it would be. Now being 9 months pregnant, your group mates had made time on several occasions to visit you and make sure Yoongi was looking after you. They would give him hell if he wasn’t.

You’d also started doing live streams at around the 8 month mark, entertaining yourself by talking and laughing with your fans.

You were currently doing a live wilst Yoongi worked in his home studio, when something began to feel off.

Where is Yoongi? You read from the chat.

‘Yoongi is working in the other room. We aren’t attached at the hip guys.’ You chuckled as you watched the chat, hand subconsciously stroking over your belly.

‘I’ve been feeling much better after resting, thanks for asking!’

The door suddenly opened and Yoongi popped his head inside with a smile.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey. I bought you food.’ We walked over and handed you a plat with a sandwich.

‘Look at this guys, no prompt or anything.’ You smirked, teasing your husband.

‘You’re lucky I love you.’ He mumbled under his breath.

‘What was that?’ You teased again, cupping your ear with your hand. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes with a laugh, before leaning down and briefly waving to the camera.

‘just call me if you need anything, ok?’ he gave you a pointed look before leaving the room.

‘Thank you~~ Love you!’ You called after him in  a sing song voice.

Not long after Yoongi left the room, you suddenly felt a twinge in your stomach. It was sharp and sudden, so it made you audibly gasp and reach out to grab the portable table in front of you.

The fans in the chat immediately became concerned, spamming their worried messages.

‘Yeah- I-I’m fine I-‘ You cut yourself off when you felt wetness coat your thighs and the bed beneath you.

‘Oh my God!’ You gasped out. Your waters had just broken while you were doing a live stream. You didn’t even think to reassure your fans as you quickly ended the live.

‘Yoongi!’ You called out with a strangled cry, in hopes that he wasn’t working with his headphones on. Your worries were eased when you heard hurried foot steps approaching, before the door swung open.

‘What is it!?’ He was slightly out of breath from running back and forth. You tried to smile through the pain as you looked to him.

‘My waters just broke.’ His eyes widened and he was by your side in an instant.

‘Do we go to the hospital?’

‘No it’s too early.’ You laughed at his concern. You knew that he was well aware that it was too early to leave, after all he’d been reading every bit of media about pregnancy he could get his hands on.

‘Can you just help e to clean up please?’ He grumbled at the thought of waiting, but he started to pull you up to help you none the less. Yoongi held tightly to your arms as he guided you to the shower. Your heart swelled as he lovingly helped you strip out of your soiled clothes and helped you get clean.

Now you were sat in the living room, whilst Yoongi timed your contractions.

Will you call our parents when it’s time?’ You asked with shaky breath, now beginning to be affected more by the pain.

‘Already done.’ You smiled at his efficiency and continued your breathing exercises. It was going to be a long night!