#i haven't read some of the fics so i'm excited to check them out 👀

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (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: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. 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: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, 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 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 Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

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 long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

Taglist:

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

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

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

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

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

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld 

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[connorsjorts]

Fic tag game! Tagged by the lovely @sweeteatercat , thank you!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 4

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 229,987

3. What fandoms do you write for? DBH

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I don't even have 5 fics 😅 but here they are in order: 1. he's making a list; i'm checking him out 2. long way home 3. stupid sexy priest 4. make my wish come true

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I haven't responded to comments on my latest chapter yet, but I will. It's really important to me: 1) If someone takes the time to read my work AND share their thoughts with me, that really does mean so much, saying thank you (and clumsily attempting to express the depth of my gratitude in an annoying amount of emojis) is the least I can do; and 2) This is a community! The validation is nice, yes, but I write to connect with people. I love hearing what people have to say and I love to talk with them about it! I've made friends through my ao3 comments, we're all here because we love the same thing, and if you're excited about my silly contributions OF COURSE I'm gonna want to talk to you! Your reactions to the work are just as important as the work itself imo. Art is a conversation!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably make my wish come true, just because it's an alternate POV of a scene in a different fic so the main conflict remains unresolved. But it still has a feel-good ending! Sad endings don't exist in my world

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm not sure! What do you guys think? Generally in my fics I try to wrap everything up in a happy little bow without everything being too perfect--we still have to work, we still make mistakes, life is still hell; but it's easier when we have each other and have found faith in ourselves.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I haven't yet...... (bracing myself for my first hate comment to come through as soon as I publish this post)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? Sure do! I write the over-the-top, too long, lots of emotion, lots of laughing/banter, taking-off-your-pants-is-awkward kind. Sex is cool but friendship is the most romantic thing to me ❤️ I enjoy writing smut the most when they really, genuinely like each other as people.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I have not and I doubt I would. Probably the closest I would get is an au based on another piece of media (I do dream of a hankcon twin peaks au)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I have never even considered that being a thing until now

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone requested to translate one of my fics but I don't know if it will ever come to fruition. I hope it does though, I would love that!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No but I've briefly discussed it with a friend... now that I'm done with the bb I'll need to contact them and see if they're still interested because I sure am 👀👀

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Hankconnnnnnnnnn

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I started a fic where Connor works in a sex shop and a very vanilla Hank comes in looking for something to spice things up with his girlfriend. He gets some fuzzy handcuffs and they do their job when it comes to Hank's boner, unfortunately that has more to do with Hank fantasizing about the person who sold them to him more than anything else. He breaks up with the girlfriend and most of the fic would be Hank continuing to frequent the sex shop as an excuse to talk to Connor as he gets more and more in over his head thanks to Connor's recommendations. It was really good in my head, but when I put it to paper it just... wasn't. So I'll probably never continue it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Characterization, I think! I get a lot of compliments on it. It's the best feeling when someone falls in love with one of my characters ❤️

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Setting 😖 I like to pepper in details as I go, I really struggle when the scene calls for describing the whole-ass place at once

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? If y'all want a fic about the Duolingo characters, sure. Otherwise I'm sure I'd be abysmal at it. I'm not proficient enough in any other language to get the voice right.

19. First fandom you wrote for? DBH. I am a fic-writing newbie and also I tend to stick with one thing for 4,000 years

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Probably long way home, it's not as popular as mall santa but there's so much of my soul in that fic. Artistically and thematically, it's very me, and it's also the story that taught me how to write. I had never written any work of fiction before I started it (Hankcon was just that strong) and now I never want to do anything else. Thank you for reading, if you want to play consider yourself tagged! 💖

[onewingedsparrow]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @skyyknights and @traveleorzea ! Forever ago but I'm finally getting around to tackling all these questions. Thank you so much for the tags! :D I decided to answer these questions (mostly) based only on the fics I have posted to AO3 right now. I could have answered some of these questions based on WIP's I haven't posted yet, but I decided to keep it simple. The stupid new format of Tumblr kept screwing up my links, which is part of the reason why it took me so long to post this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? At the moment, only 43!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 39,225 as of December 30, 2023. I expect this to skyrocket once I eventually post my megafics for Transformers and Fire Emblem. But, it is not this day.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Anything I want to write for 🔥❤️‍🔥🔥The Legend of Zelda, Transformers, Miraculous Ladybug, Fire Emblem, the MCU, Critical Role, and Puss in Boots are the fandoms represented on my AO3 now, but that's only the beginning! I have a few more fics in the works for many other fandoms, including but not limited to Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario, Batfam, Honor Among Thieves, and The Stormlight Archive, that simply aren't ready for AO3 yet. I hope to get them up someday, in the years to come. 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? From the top and descending, that would be: "Let Sleeping Dogs Lie" (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish) I'm genuinely unsurprised this is at the peak. It's held this rank ever since I posted it. Wholesome Team Friendship Fluff, post-movie! "To Bee a Leader" (Transformers: Robots in Disguise 2015) This one always surprises me!!! I never expected it to get so much traction! But I'm so happy it keeps getting hits! I'm so happy people are enjoying / relating to my Prime in Disguise Bumblebee angst + emotional hurt / comfort! "Release Me" (The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom) With the advent of TotK, it is only logical that this shot to the top 5. This is my fic I wrote before the game released, where I theorized: what if the green arm was actually antagonistic? "Watched" (The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess) I think the LU fandom finally found this one, because it wasn't this high in the ranks before, lol. It's not technically Linked Universe, but you could certainly read it as either TLoZ or LU, as you prefer. Pre-canon, still in Ordon Village, Link doesn't know it...but he's being watched. "A Name Aptly Chosen" (Bumblebee (2018) / Transformers: Rise of the Beasts) Oh, when did this happen??? When did you hit the top 5? 👀 This is news to me! This makes me so happy!!! This is how I imagine Bumblebee explained to Optimus Prime his name-change from "B-127" to "Bumblebee" ✨

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Most of the time, yes! I love when readers leave comments because I'm excited to hear what in my writing stood out to them. Thus, I try to reply to as many as I can. I hope that if I stay engaged with my readers, they'll feel more comfortable with commenting, whether on my fics or someone else's ✨ That being said, however, when particular comments don't pass the vibe check, I see no need to reward with any response. <3

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ooh. As of now, that trophy goes to "Where Sorrow Rings" (Fire Emblem: Engage). A close second might be "Out of Tune" (The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.) (The even-heavier angst that I write is currently unpublished, because most of it is in my megafics.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Good question! My first instinct would be Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, but depending on preference, I suppose Welcome Home and Dissonant Echoes could possibly compete with that one.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not much yet (lol), but I figure it'll happen eventually because that's how the Internet works, regrettably. 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope. I don't read it either.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Lol, this is a super funny question for me personally. I crossover so many things, but my best crossovers haven't made it to AO3 yet because I'm still building up the greatness to reach its full potential. I think the only crossover I have right now on AO3 is a Stormlight!AU for TLoZ, The Song of Stormlight. But oh, the crossovers in my mind...! I gotta mention some of them just for fun, in the hopes it'll motivate me to bring them to fruition:

Psych x Transformers Assassin's Creed x Transformers Assassin's Creed x Fire Emblem Fire Emblem x TLoZ Fire Emblem x TLoZ x MCU x MtG x Nintendo-in-general x 신의 x Stormlight Archive x literally anything else I can think of and no I am not joking, this is very much a thing. This is my magnum opus. One of the biggest worlds I'll ever write; one of the biggest projects I've been working on for many years that have already passed, as well as many more years to come.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not. 🗡️🗡️🗡️

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of. If someone wanted to translate a fic of mine, I might be truly honored, but I would want them to ask permission first.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hmm...not seriously. I've collaborated worldbuilding with many people over the years, and done much roleplaying, but I've never co-written a "fic" that wasn't a for-fun "Round Robin" game.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? OoT Zelink. They are my OTP.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? *laughs That could be literally any of my WIP's at any point. I want to finish them all. I plan to finish them all. I hope to finish them all. But, actually finishing them all is dependent upon many factors. I think of ideas faster than I can finish them, and I have many priorities to juggle. I hope I don't abandon my stories, but I make no promises. Even so, I try not to doubt that I'll finish my fics; I strive to keep a positive mindset, because that will lend me the motivation to finish them, even if it takes me years to do so.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, poetry (I love writing words to a beat even within prose), and coming up with titles, to name a few!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I think it's delightful when it's executed well, and distracting when it's not. That's why I try to be careful when I attempt to do so. When I do so, I wish to respect the language and the culture the language is a part of; language has much nuance, so I don't just wanna copy-paste something from the Goog's Translate without taking certain linguistic factors into account.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The first fandom I posted for on AO3 was Transformers: Prime. That's not the first fandom I ever wrote for, but I'm not telling you that, Tumblr.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? This is a cruel question. I could well cheat this question and say "all my fics are my favorite fics I've ever written, because writing is a delight." I would mean that. But, in the spirit of the ask game, I will respond with "Safe With You." 🏍️ Oh, I just realized now I gotta tag people 😂 All rightyyyy, I'm sorry if you've been tagged before, but I'm going to tag @misscrazyfangirl321 @cooking-with-hailstones @clawedandcute and @margindoodles2407 but only if you want to! <3

P.S. This is probably self-explanatory but just in case: if you hop onto this game, please make a new post <3 Thank you in advance, friends!

[nicnacsnonsense]

💖👀✨

For the fic writer meme

💖 What made you start writing?

Short answer: I was desperate for more Princess Tutu content.

Very long answer:

It is early July of 2010. I am at college, taking the Intro to Bio class during a summer session because the stupid class kept getting full up before my sign up window during the normal school year. I am feeling pretty down at the time -- that undiagnosed, unmedicated ADHD low key depressive funk. I was also watching a lot of anime at the time and decided to check out Princess Tutu, which looked like a sweet and fun pick me up.

By the end of the first episode, my mood had lifted. By the end of the series (26 episodes total) my entire brain chemistry had been altered. Princess Tutu was my new favorite show of all time (in some ways it still is). I rewatched it numerous times. I showed it to as many people as I could get to stay sitting after I told them it was called Princess Tutu. I bought the DVD box set for myself and watched all the special features.

Christmas break of 2010 I was home and rewatched the show once again. But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I could feel myself falling back into that funk. I went to the TvTropes page for Princess Tutu and clicked on the one tab I hadn't looked at: Fanfic Recs. I didn't read fanfic at the time, hadn't really ever before, and had the vague notion of it being kind of an embarrassing thing, but I needed more Princess Tutu.

One of the recommendations was The Heart of Everything by gemkazoni. I stayed up until 4am reading that fic (it is 84k long). Once again my brain chemistry was changed. I reread it only a couple days later and then created an FFN account expressly for the purposes of leaving a review on that fic (I didn't know guest reviews were a thing). And so of course after a stellar introduction like that I continued to read more and more fanfic.

Exactly 2 weeks later I was in the shower when the idea for a character study popped into my head. I kept running through the words over and over in my head until I decided I had to write them down and of course once I wrote them down I had to post it. It got 7 hits in the first hour which felt like the most exciting thing that had ever happened. And the rest is history.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I've not been in a very writerly headspace lately I confess. I've had a lot of ideas for AUs, but haven't really sat down to write anything in a while. One thing that I would like to do is circle back to the OFMD Galavant AU to write a couple more scenes so it ends on a happy place for them and then I can post it as a sort of time skip/snippet collection even if I don't write a full AU for it.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I'm really good at writing in character and giving a strong sense of the POV character due to a special technique (it's not a technique, my brain is just weird this way) that I like to call "method writing."

[thefrogdalorian]

Hello there!

I just wanted to update any of you out there who may be waiting for another Chapter of my Din x F!Reader Modern AU fic, The Best of Both Worlds.

Firstly, I just wanted to thank you for being patient! I didn't intend to leave it almost a month between updates but life has been a bit hectic recently and I haven't been able to work on it as much as I wanted to.

Anyway, I just wanted to reassure any readers that I am still working on it! I've had some other projects going on too but this hasn't fallen by the wayside at all. I really just want to take my time to make sure I get the next part of it right. There's a big moment coming up and I want to do it justice... 👀

Also, as I said before this fic was my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and when I actually came to edit this, the initial draft can best be described as something like this:

So, editing this baby was definitely a lot easier at the start hahah. Currently, I'm somewhere around the third leg! Most of the big story beats are down, it's just a case of connecting them all up and fitting it all together so it flows that is taking the time. I have almost 140k words down in total and I expect the final word count will be a lot more than that, so there is still a lot to come from this story!

Hopefully it won't be too long before my next update and thank you again for being patient! I'm very excited for you to read the next part of Din and Sunflower's story and I really hope to be able to share it with you soon🌻

(Also, if you haven't checked it out yet, feel free to catch up before the next update! Things are about to get spicy👀)

[andithiel]

Ten smut/dialogue scenes

I was tagged by the massively talented @thehoneybeet (check out some smutty goodness of them here), and at first I was excited and then I though "oh no, what do my smut say about me?" I was also convinced I haven't written that many smutty fics, but I had to actually pick between them, who knew?! Also had to trim what I picked out because it got close to 6k and no one has time for that while scrolling tumblr 🙈

Rules: pick any ten fics, select some smut or pre-smut dialogue, and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, feel free to share anyway!

Tagging @tsundanire @drarryruinedme7 @getawayfox @rei382 @isamijoo @mystickitten42 @nv-md @thebooktopus @shealwaysreads @phdmama if you want to share your smutty dialogue (also no pressure to actually read this just because I tagged you, it’s 2,6k 👀) And if you’re reading this and want to share yours as well please do, and tag me so I can see!

I'm putting these under a cut because they're long and various states of explicit. I've tried to select different kind of dynamics and scenarios in these, but enthustiastic consent is one of my favourite things to write so most of them has that. I'll put content warnings/enticements next to the ones where I think it’s needed.

1. And the music plays bitter, plays sweet (CW: infidelity (not between Drarry)

Harry doesn’t know what to say. What are you supposed to say to your recently widowed lover who has just buried his wife?

”Do you want me to—?”

Draco stands up so abruptly that the glass falls to the floor and shatters, firewhiskey splashing everywhere, staining the expensive carpet; he crowds Harry against the mantelpiece.

”If you leave now, don’t bother coming back,” he growls.

Harry whimpers and then Draco’s lips are on his, insisting, demanding and Harry melts. Until he remembers.

”Fuck, Albus is here, we can’t— ”

”They’re sleeping, but if you’re worried…” Draco says and Apparates them to his bedroom.

”Is this—?”

”Don’t make this weirder than it has to be,” Draco snaps before he starts working on the buttons of Harry’s robes, making him dizzy with want.

”I’ve thought about you all day,” Harry says, fumbling with Draco’s tie. “It kills me that I couldn’t be there for you.”

Draco rips Harry’s robes off in one swift impatient movement.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

His voice is desperate, shaky and steely at the same time; It sounds more like a plea than a command, but Harry doesn’t even consider not obeying.

2. Constellation Prize 

“I—” Harry started. Draco looked up at him, eyes dark and wide, his flushed chest heaving. “It was worth waiting. For this. For you.”

Draco surged forward, kissing Harry messily, all teeth and tongue. “Do you have any idea the things you do to me?”

Harry chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I thought I said ten minutes ago how I wanted you inside me five minutes ago, what is your cock still doing on the outside?”

“I also remember someone wanting my fingers instead of a preparation charm,” Draco murmured against his ear while tracing Harry’s rim with his cock. “Some things are worth the wait Harry,” he said, slowly pushing in.

3. I’ll never be your chosen one (CW: hate sex) This is long, but 🤷‍♀️

Draco closes his eyes, suppressing a moan at the thought of Potter fucking himself with his fingers.

“What if I told you I’ve used all the skills you’ve taught me to fuck others?” Potter continues, grabbing the buttplug and yanking it out with a little more force than strictly necessary. “That I’ve convinced more than one witch that taking it up the arse isn’t so bad, after all, if you know what you’re doing.”

Draco inhales sharply. Surely Potter is just trying to rile him up? He’s not been in a relationship as of late, he usually won’t see Draco when he is, because apparently he’s “not the cheating kind”. This must just be a way to make Draco jealous. Well, the joke’s on Potter, because if Draco’s not in love, he can’t be jealous.

“I was planning on opening you slowly this time, Malfoy, using my tongue and my fingers until you were begging for me to fuck you, but I guess you’re just an impatient little slag, aren’t you?” Potter grabs his hips roughly, and then the spongy head of his cock is circling Draco’s waiting hole. “Aren’t you, Malfoy? Aren’t you just aching for me to fuck you?”

Draco forces down a shiver of arousal, refusing to dignify Potter’s statement with an answer. He scoffs. “Well, aren’t you clever, Potter? Does it make it easier for you to fuck them if you do it up the arse? Is it easier to block out that they’re witches?” He presses back against Potter’s groin, undulating his hips to rub against Potter’s cock, smirking as a suppressed moan escapes Potter’s lips. “If you close your eyes, maybe you can almost forget that they’re not what you want. As long as you don’t try to reach around them to pull them off you can pretend that they’re someone else?”

There’s a low growl, and then Potter pushes in all the way in one stroke, and Draco almost loses his balance, the sting of it is so exquisite.

Potter’s voice is low in his ear, his chest flush against Draco’s back. “And you think I imagine them being you, don’t you, Malfoy?” He scoffs. “You think I have to pretend that they’re you to be able to come?” He sets up an agonisingly slow rhythm, making Draco bite his lip to keep from fucking himself faster on Potter’s cock.

“And don’t you? Can you honestly say you’re able to keep it up without some sort of fantasy playing in your head? Do you need them to be quiet to keep the illusion that you’re fucking someone you’re actually attracted to?”

Potter grabs his hair forcefully, yanking it so that Draco’s neck bends backwards, the awkward angle just below painful.

“Shut the fuck up, Malfoy.”

“Oh, but you like it when I’m mouthing off, don’t you?” Draco says to the ceiling. “Am I the only one who doesn’t fawn over you, Potter, doesn’t agree with everything you say? Yes, Harry, I’ll take it up the arse if that’s what you want. Yes, Harry, I’ll keep quiet if that’s what you need. No, Harry, I don’t find it odd that I always have to stimulate myself’,” he sneers. “Admit it, you’re sick of it.”

There’s another growl as Potter drags himself out and slams back in, still with his hand tightly fisted in Draco’s hair.

“I said: Shut. The fuck. Up,” he hisses through clenched teeth before he starts pounding into Draco in a steady rhythm, faster now.

Draco chuckles, knowing it will drive Potter absolutely mad with rage. And a mad Potter is a rough Potter, and rough is what Draco wants right now, rough is what they have together, what Potter is willing to give him, what Potter wants from him. “Am I too close to the truth?”

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Potter pants into his ear. He’s so close now, Draco can feel his thrusts becoming erratic.

“Make me,” he breathes.

4. Play me like a love song

“Harry, please.” It comes out as a whine, but he can’t be arsed to care about that.

“What?” Draco can feel Harry smiling against his skin.

“Please.”

“What do you need, Draco? You know I want to give it to you if you just ask me,” Harry says, so low that it’s barely audible, but Draco’s entire focus is on Harry and his mouth, and where he wants it to go.

“Harry, it’s —” he says, bucking his hips up. “Fuck, it’s right there!” And as if on cue, his cock twitches, as if it’s offended that it’s being neglected this way.

“What is?” Harry says, still feigning obliviousness, and Draco has a strong urge to slap him. Maybe that’s why Harry wanted to tie him up.

But he’s not ready to admit defeat yet, he won’t say that he desperately wants Harry’s mouth on his cock. “I thought you said you wanted to make me a babbling mess by just using your tongue and lips.”

Harry chuckles, low and guttural in his throat, the fucking bastard. “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

Draco groans in frustration, but it comes out breathy, more like a moan, a desperate sound.

“Please, Harry,” he says again, pleading, begging.

“I’m glad you’re asking so nicely, but you still need to tell me what to do.”

“Please, Harry, please just suck my cock.”

5. When Buds Break (CW: Hanahaki disease, not depicted in the snippet)

“I was surprised to learn that you had any interest in her, though,” Draco says, as if he’s completely unaffected by Harry’s mouth on him.

Harry grunts in frustration, because obviously Draco is not letting this go. “What’s the problem? It was one time, weeks ago. I was horny and you were away at some charity event or whatever. And she was there. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t mean anything, and you still felt the need to do it?” Draco’s voice is a weird mixture of scornful and saccharinely sweet.

“I still don’t see what the problem is. You and I are having casual sex. In fact, you were the one who definitely wanted to keep it casual. I just happened to have some other casual sex with another person.”

Draco doesn’t answer, but his jaw is working silently as he’s staring at Harry, and it looks like he’s reluctantly admitting defeat. Tentatively, Harry starts to nose around Draco’s groin, inhaling the scent of him and kissing the tender skin on the inside of his thighs.

“I have to say that discussing my sexual habits was not what I thought you had in mind when you brought me here. And it was definitely not what I had in mind when I came with you,” Harry says and then licks a long stripe from the base of Draco’s cock to the tip, smiling when it twitches violently in response. Even if Draco seems collected, his body is severely betraying him.

Soft hands come to tangle in Harry’s hair again, and with a sigh Draco says, “I just didn’t know we were having sex with other people.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were exclusively casual, but I’m fine with that if you want us to be. I mean, Daphne is alright, but there are some things she lacks, anatomically speaking,” Harry says, swirling his tongue around Draco’s cock again. He deliberately leaves out how having sex with Daphne couldn’t compare to having sex with Draco in a million years, that she didn’t leave him entirely breathless like Draco does. He doesn’t need to be more smug than he already is.

“Daphne’s a fucking slut.”

Harry snorts. “Takes one to know one.” He ducks from Draco’s hand trying to slap him, and grabs Draco’s thighs to heave himself up so that their faces are level. “Now, do you want me to keep casually sucking you off, or would you be so kind as to casually put that gorgeous dick up my arse?”

6. Find your own heaven (CW: second person POV, written from the pov of Draco being very sexually repressed)

“Have you done this before?” you ask, because surely he must have some experience? This cannot feel this good if it’s his first time.

“I keep telling you, Draco, no, I haven’t. Not with another person.”

“With yourself then. You’ve done this to yourself?”

He kisses along the length of your spine as he slowly works you open with his fingers.

��I have. I have been pleasuring myself, imagining that you were with me, that it was your fingers inside me.”

His words make you moan, the internal image of him so arousing as instinct takes you over and you rock back to meet him.

He shifts behind you, grabbing the bottle of oil and pouring more of it into his hand.

“Can I?” he asks, low and husky.

You nod fervently, and then you gasp as the tip of him grazes your entrance.

7. Testing the waters (Jeddy)

James’ breath hitched, but he didn’t answer this time, his eyes closed in ecstasy as Teddy pounded into him as hard as he could.

“I’m going to make you scream so loudly, Jamie. The only name you’ll remember will be mine,” Teddy said, panting, grinding down while pistoning his hips, licking the side of James’ neck as he went. James’ head was tilted back against the black and white trunk, his bottom lip between his teeth, and he was so beautiful it stole Teddy’s breath away. Once again he was overcome with the desire to kiss James, to feel the warmth of his mouth against his, sharing the same air.

“Can I kiss you, Jamie?” he groaned, burying himself into the glorious wet heat that was the core of James. “I really— I really want to kiss you.”

James whimpered, squeezing his eyes further shut. “Only if you mean it,” he said, his voice breathy and broken. “Only if you want me.”

8. Take a trip into my garden

“Draco,” he whispers. “Draco, don’t make me wait any longer.”

Draco lifts his head to look at him, his lips swollen and shiny, eyes blown so wide with lust they’re almost black. He scoots up and lets his mouth glide along Harry’s lower lip, fingers grazing over his rapidly beating pulse.

“What, Harry? What do you want?”

His voice is low and cooing, and Harry relaxes, realising he’s been tensing up. He licks his lips. “Fuck me,” he whispers, sliding a hand into Draco’s silky hair to keep him close.

Draco exhales shakily, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. “You’re still sure then?”

Harry nods, and Draco mirrors his motion, eagerly but cautious.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Harry, you have no idea.”

“I know you will,” Harry says, licking his lips. “And also, I— I want to see you. I want to look at you while you fuck me.”

“Oh fuck,” Draco groans, and his cock gives a little twitch against Harry’s hip, noticable through the thin fabric of his designer pants. “Fuck, Harry, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

9. Sweet desire (Scorbus. CW: first person POV)

Scorpius sets himself with one leg on either side of my knees, crouching over me to look at my cock. I’m so hard, and my foreskin has already drawn back halfway to reveal the glans. Scorpius looks up at me, his hair falling over his now dark eyes, and he raises his eyebrows in a silent question. I nod, and he hooks his fingers inside the elastic of my underwear to pull them down all the way.

“Yours, too.”

It looks like he’s coming out of a trance when he glances up at me at my words.

“Take off yours, too,” I say, and Scorpius looks down at himself, as if he hadn’t noticed that he’s still wearing his pants.

“Oh! Right, yeah, I’ll—” he says, wriggling out of them and then resuming his studying of my aching erection with interest, not doing anything else.

I summon all my patience not to let my head fall back in frustration, and try to keep my voice calm. “Scorpius, love,” I say, “I don’t want to rush you or anything, but… are you just going to look at my cock until I come?”

“It’s just… It’s so pretty, Albus. I haven’t seen it this close before.”

“Um, thanks?” It twitches again at his words, which makes Scorpius chuckle, the sensation of his warm breath gusting over my sensitive skin almost too much. “Oh, fuck.”

Scorpius chuckles again, and then, finally, he leans forward to press his plump lips to my cock. I watch in awe at the action; it’s the best sensation I’ve ever had and my mouth falls open on a loud moan. Scorpius looks up at me, eyes bright and a smile playing on his lips.

“Good?”

“Oh, fuck, yes! So good.”

“I’ll do that again, then.”

10. Into you (CW: body swap)

“Do it again,” Malfoy whispered, his voice breathy.

“What?” Harry whispered back, and Malfoy showed him by slipping his hand underneath Harry’s waistband, cupping his arse and pressing Harry towards him. “Oh, fuck!”

“Bad?” Malfoy asked.

“No. Fuck. Good. So good,” Harry panted, and he realised that if they kept going like this, he would surely come, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, or at least not how he would feel afterwards, because right now he felt fucking fantastic. His hips were moving of their own accord, desperately rutting against Malfoy, and they weren’t even kissing anymore but keeping their open mouths close to each other.

“Can I?” said Malfoy, and Harry didn’t even know what he was asking, but he knew that whatever it was, he’d like it, so he just nodded vigorously. And then Malfoy put his hand inside Harry's boxers, grabbing Harry’s cock that was straining against the fabric, pulling carefully at it so that it turned upwards, and Harry’s moan was almost a scream. Malfoy’s grip around him was firm but soft and he started working Harry off in sure, slow slides.

[saturnsorbits]

I get every Sunday off so Mondays are not my favourite! 😂 I'm going to spend some time with a friend, she's moving to another country for work so we're going out as much as we can before she leaves!

How could you not notice, you're writing this! 👀 It does make sense and it's nice, we get to know your versions better and reading a fic feels like checking up on them, see what's they're up to this time! 😊

I think it's because we talked a lot about your self-ship with Denki! After that, I see little bits of it in most fics! In Play Away is the breaking up with Bakugou and the whole kiribaku thing, in Born to Bail is Sero's past with Denki, I haven't read Solo yet, but I guess this must be the self-ship fic! I really like it, we're getting to explore your self-ship story in different ways and you know how much I love this story! 🥰

Now I'm even more excited about part 2! I think my favourite scene in part one was Kiribaku outside the restaurant! I just love reading about his internal struggle, you wrote it so beautifully! 💕

-👀

Ooh! That sounds fun! I hope you have a good time! 🥰

I - I guess it’s because I kind of get into a flow when I write? Once I’ve got a character established in my head, I tend to lose focus and just write what comes natural w/o playing much attention. All of that is to say my sub-conscious evidently has Sero down as a certified panty-sniffer 😅😭

I’m glad you see it like that - checking in!

Yeah, Solo is the self-ship w/a few changes. Everything is a bit entwined like that I guess, if it isn’t a physical thing that has happened, or an event, I think there’s an element of their character that kind of flows over? Like Kiri’s recklessness in Arm Candy and Play Away.

Oh! If you liked the cafe scene you’re gonna love the opening few scenes of part Two. It’s one of only two scenes I have like screaming at me that HAVE to make it into the story so 😅

[eijunes]

ooooof yeah, having to go against our natural instincts to eat and sleep the winter away until it gets warm and sunny again is always dreadful. just do what you can, cat❤️

on the bright side, even if it's still cold, at least the winter solstice is coming so the days will slowly start getting longer again!!!☀️ i get so excited about that. it's almost better than christmas😁 do you have any holiday plans??

oh, i get you! still, some more human interaction there; that's always good. sajbksg you know i have considered trying to get a basic grasp of japanese myself just for that purpose so i'm glad it's a workable concept!!! waiting for the english translated vnc chapters is agony

man, the kny animation is out of this world. truly a super solid story all around. i'm not sure if you kept watching it, but were there any characters you really liked??

ohhhh bsd yay!!!!! it's so fun. i could see dazai and atsushi being cute, though i'll admit i get more of a platonic read there personally💗 vanoé gives me theeeee biggest brainrot istg; i'm glad i'm not the only one suffering SBDKJABG. good choices for hq characters too!!! gon and killua are so precious yesss. hak and yona are adorable as well!!! i've been meaning to read the manga for ages but haven't yet— would you recommend it?? no.6 is so good!! ahhh reading the light novels would be a good idea hmm.

^^ all of this is absolutely a good starting point💕💕

i have noticed some pastel/blacks yes lol. it's very aesthetic!! i have a few ideas for what to make for you, but it's still percolating.

question time since spotify wrapped dropped a few days ago: what music do you like to listen to?? and is there anything you're really looking forward to next year?(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

i hope you're feeling better after your booster!— animanga secret santa

hello!! yes, winter solstice, please come soon! but it's been snowing a bit here for the last few days so at least it's not so gloomy anymore and the world seems a little brighter ❄️

I don’t really have any exciting plans for holidays, covid is going wild over here (god, I hope we’re finally at the peak of this wave) and my sister is immunocompromised due to some medical treatments she had this year so I'm not sure if I'll even see some of my closest family members in person. but as long as we can take some rest, I'll be happy 😊 do you have any plans?

japanese is not as scary as it looks! actually, most of the stuff I know I learned through free apps like duolingo or lingodeer, so I really recommend to check some out if you ever decide that you want to learn some basics. but I knooow, the official translation of vnc chapters comes out quite quickly but it still feels like forever. reading monthly mangas is pain sometimes 😭

about kny, once I passed the halfway mark I kinda binged almost the whole rest of the first season! tanjiro is so kind-hearted and good, I love him 🥺 together with zenitsu and inosuke they are a riot, they made me laugh so hard sometimes. and nezuko is so so precious too! I’m always weak to sakurai takahiro’s voice so I kinda hope to see more of giyuu later, but all of the hashira seem very interesting and I’m excited to get to know them more 👀 it’s a really good cast of characters and I’m really happy that I finally watched this!

my vanoe brainrot lessened a bit when there was a break in chapters but when I first caught up with the manga, I think I read every single fic that existed at that point 😅 I always get overly invested in the happiness of self-destructive fictional men who think they don’t deserve to be loved so this is my favourite type of ship. they have so many wonderful scenes and don’t even get me started on the current manga events 😭😭

tbh I fell a bit behind on akayona manga but the events covered in the anime are only the beginning and there’s so much more of the story after that. once yona gathers all the dragons they travel all around the country and help with local problems, get in conflicts and wars and meet more interesting characters and I do recommend it a lot! it’s a great story with a well-written female character at the front

no.6 light novels are just... I have no words. it’s so much more than the anime adaptation, the manga thankfully was more true to the original material, but nothing beats the light novels. the narration is incredible and every sentence is so beautiful. there’s only a fan translation online but it’s so well done it’s incredible that someone did that for free. I have some posts with quotes somewhere on my blog, here and here if you want to get a taste. I kinda want to reread them again, maybe over christmas. they kind of have this wistful winter vibe for me :’) 

my top #1 artist this year was dotan, I knew him a bti before but he dropped a new album this year and I played it on repeat the whole year. I don’t know how to explain his vibe, it’s kind of melancholic and atmospheric I guess? try this song

and my other discovery this year was a band called world’s first cinema and they make songs with an epic feeling like in movie trailers, often about supernatural creatures. I listened to their interview once and they called their style vampire trailer music 😄 try “the woods”

I love the fact that my most listened artists each year are usually new discoveries of mine so I’m excited for all the new music I will discover next year! please send some of your favourites too, even if you listen to something vastly different!! 💛