#like y'all (writers (i love y'all)) always make me cry

[lets-summon-danny]

Phandom sometimes kills me. Like,,, I admit dissection fics are always popular you cannot get too many of them, Danny needing to leave everyone behind (either they die or he is on the run) and go to a different dimension/city is also cool in a lonely wet kitty way, him getting betrayed by his friends/sister/parents is also ok I guess (I don't like them much). They are all good. I love the angst and gut-wrecking horror/disgust from any & every dp fic. But, like,,, there are tons of them. There are short & reaaaaally long one-shots, multi-chapter fics with 100k+ words and so on. And while this isn't necessarily a problem (quite the opposite) I'm feeling lonely on the fluff side of fandom. I know there is also a bunch of stuff on this side too but they are (almost) always so short. Yes I've read 12 fics with love and hugs but they were all 1k-3k one-shots or so. The multi-chapter ones are nowhere near finished and I crave fluff. I'm sleep deprived, it's 5 in the morning and I'm just really sad about fanfiction :"(

[7ndipity]

Dating Yoongi headcanons

Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: swearing, lil suggestive, not proofread.

A/N: Alright, if we're gonna do this series, then it's time we talk about my ult. The man, the myth, the meow meow(I'm sorry Yoongi)

(Also, I'm already planning a pt.2 for this series that's more on the crack side, so if anyone wants to send me headcanons for the members to possibly be included in future lists?)

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Yoongi is comfortable.

So soft for you, I can't even begin. Like, I don't understand how people ever think he's cold, he is the epitome of soft boi.

Blushes when you complement or brag on him.

Turns into a scrunched up, spluttering mess if you call him cute(we love our tsundere).

Very cautious at first with his feelings, but once he feels comfortable enough to open up, he's very straight forward.

To call it dating is a bit generous though. Like, y'all immediately go from 'kinda dating' to 'married-but-not-married'.

Tells you he loves you for the first time in one of those long ass, 3am texts like he sends to the members.

Random,(half-)joking proposals(Marry me, Yoongi uno reverse card!)

"What kind of ramen do you want?" "Marry me." "Both it is."

So many songs about you, but you will not know until they're released(or he makes them into a playlist/mixtape for your birthday or anniversary)

Actually really hesitant about letting you in his studio(sorry fellow writers). He just prefers to have a level of separation between his work and you.

Dates are usually pretty chill(except for special occasions or when he wants to flex and rents out a whole fucking skating rink for y'all or smth)

Another who lives for domestic activities with you, like cooking together or even just grocery shopping. Idk, he just likes getting to be with you.

Probably would love going camping with you in one of those little camper vans.

Likes to teach you things?

I mean, he won't want to be your full time teacher, but if you show an interest in smth like piano or producing, he'll get a kick out of teaching you the basics.(let him teach you about basketball, he'll lose his gd mind)

Not big on nicknames(big shock🙄). Like, you have a perfectly good name, why not just fucking use it? Also calls you 'Jagi', but that's if he's feeling particularly soft or needy.

Acts of service King.

Have you eaten? He's making food. Are you cold? Makes you take his jacket. His top priority is making sure you're taken care of.

Gets lowkey jealous of Holly getting too much of your attention. "Yah, are you dating me or my dog?!"

Sass and bickering are basically a second language for you two.

Subtle about pda. If he's not holding your hand, he has to have one resting on your back.

SOMEONE HOLD HIS FUCKING HAND FOR THE LOVE OF-(sorry, I'm calm)

Not always vocal about wanting physical affection, but when he is, he's lowkey dramatic.

*laying on the couch*"If you don't kiss me, I'm gonna die." *kiss* "Better?" "Hmm, still in critical condition. Keep going."

Another who gets more than a little enjoyment in winding you up into a flustered mess, and is smug about it(again, shocking no one, I'm sure)

Slow, lingering kisses as he holds onto you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Gets really quiet if you fight(and sulks), but is usually the first to apologize because he absolutely cannot stand y'all being mad at each other.

Holds you to go to sleep.

"Marry me." "M'kay."

Okay, that's enough delulu for right now, Imma go cry.

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ meet me under the golden tree

Pairing - shuri/black fem!reader

Word Count - 7k (my fics keep getting longer and longer lolll)

Contains - smut (18+), fingering, cunnilingus, soft dom!shuri, sub!reader, angst, fluff, hurt, mentions of character death

Key words - nkosazana (princess), sthandwa (baby), sthandwa sami (my love)

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - Her face was puffy, her lips swollen from all her crying but even in this state she was beautiful and everything you could ever ask for. She caresses your face with her thumb, wiping away your tears as she finally brings you in for a kiss. Contrary to popular belief, this was your guys’ first kiss. Your lips press against her swollen ones as you relax into her. The world around you went black and white, the tree and Shuri being the splash of colour in the painted landscape surrounding you

Song Vibes - john redcorn (sir), change (arin ray ft. kehlani), do it well (dvsn), wait (nao)

Tags - @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @heejayy @lustfulbarbie @abenomeiiii @shuriszn @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @gardenof-venus @vys-intentions @tiii-iiiiii @tishszn @myaraines @dominiquesheart @vampzxi @zayswriting

Writers Note: this one has a bit of everything, and I definitely took some stuff from Shuriri fics I already wrote and put onto a03 lol. But yeah, this one’s definitely a lil different from last weeks fic, but enjoy :)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You sigh, unable to fess up to Riri’s mocking laughs. You knew she was right, the way she would persistently tease you about your so called “friendship” with the Black Panther. The truth is, you’re head over heels for Shuri, but you could not allow yourself to be persuaded. To give into your feelings meant to be bruised by her constant subtle pushes once things got too close, too intimate. And it hurts you.

“Shut up Ri,” you respond, hoping she’ll actually listen to you this time.

“What? You’re not gonna sit here and tell me you two are ‘just friends’. I know y'all be fucking on the low.”

You start choking on your water as Riri laughs hysterically.

“You’re not funny.”

“Uh huh. What are you all dressed up for anyway? Where are you heading off to looking all pretty?”

You roll your eyes. No answer comes out of your mouth but your body language and facial expressions tell Riri everything she needs to know.

“Mhmm…very interesting indeed,” Riri taunts.

“Riri, I swear to god bro…we’re just friends. For real, leave me alone.” You were transparently annoyed, not even because Riri kept teasing you, but because you knew she wasn’t wrong. You enjoyed Shuri, the way she used her words to pull you back in even if she didn’t fully deserve your company. She was a challenge, and her presence was almost impossible to neglect.

“She’s outside. And you better not still be in my apartment when I get back.”

Riri chuckles under her breath as you get up and make your way out to meet her.

“Don’t get pregnant! We don’t need any little Black Panthers running around!” Riri yells before the door shuts.

“Fuck you, Ri!”

“Love you too, y/n!” You give her the finger before the door completely shuts.

Once you're deeper into the apartment hallways, you begin to smile like a fool. You allow all emotions to be expressed in between the time you leave Riri to meet with Shuri, because you know once you step foot into that car, true feelings must be suppressed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There’s a gentle breeze in the air once you step outside, caressing your face and scalp. It’s refreshing, but also a step back into reality. Shuri is leaning on her car, focused on whatever is on her phone. She looks good. She always does and it pisses you off. The olive green of her nike crew neck compliments her rich skin without flaw. Her olive dunks pull the outfit together, lightly covered by the bagginess of her black cargo pants. She wears her favourite gold chain, just subtly hidden underneath her crew neck but the sly detail makes your heart flutter. You run up to her, embracing her warmth as she brings you in for a hug. Shuri chuckles against you, flattered at the way you seep so easily into her arms.

“Missed me that bad, nkosazana?” You exhaled at the sound of her voice. The cute names she constantly called you did nothing to ease your deep desire for her, it was almost tiresome.

“I did,” you answer. You look up at her, noticing the gold layered on her bottom teeth. Your stomach jumped at the sight. The way the gold contrasted against her pearly whites caused your core to warm up, a throbbing sensation between your thighs and you had no choice but to ignore it. “Where are we going, Shuri? You called me late as fuck last night.”

“I just wanted to see my favourite girl today, is that ok?”

Oh she was infuriating. “That’s fine, but you can’t call me at unholy hours like that bro. I’m tryna sleep.”

“My bad, my bad. I was kinda desperate.” Desperate? You breathe in deeply, followed by a smile. You always tried to stay mad at her, but it was a challenge. She was too beautiful. She guides you into her vehicle, closing the door beside you. She takes her place in the driver's seat, and you could never not admire the way she looked handling the road. She always drove with one hand on the wheel, her tattooed hand always rubbing your thigh or playing with her jawline. Both gestures made you wet which usually paved way for your late night thoughts to be filled with deep skin, slender fingers, and curly hair as you touch yourself, her name falling off your lips as you dream of her below you.

“Y/n? You down?” The train of your tactile thoughts brought back to reality as Shuri pulls you in.

“Huh?”

Shuri laughs. “I saaiidd…wanna go to that restaurant down the corner over there? They got a pool table, and I wanna beat you.”

“You’re better than me at everything, Shuri. You’ll easily beat me in pool.”

“Soooo, is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes.”

Shuri pauses for a second, pondering on what thoughts are dancing through your mind.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours anyways? You’re always dozing off, I’m starting to worry you don’t enjoy my presence anymore,” Shuri jokes. You slap her shoulder lightly. “Ow.”

“That’s what you get.”

“For what? What’d I do now?”

“You know what.”

Shuri rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with me, nkosazana. The day just started.”

“Fine.”

Everytime you bring up the topic of ‘what are we?’, Shuri would take one step back. She hated the conversation, and she would disappear for days at a time once your arguments were over. You convinced yourself that it was because she just did not feel the same for you like you did for her. It was easier to accept that than the latter; that you were just a crutch, a tool to be used whenever she needed and put away until she decided you were of value again.

You knew Shuri was broken. She’s been through a lot and ever since the mantle was given to her, she seemed to be heavier. She was still ‘Shuri’, the girl with endless jokes up her sleeve and a smile that could ease sadness, but there was now a darkness that endured underneath and she would not let you pierce the surface.

She pulls into the parking lot, unbuckling your seat belt as she rushes to open the door for you. Her arm wrapped around your shoulder, and she pecked a kiss on the top of your head as you walked into the restaurant. You both order what you usually do; Shuri with her spicy chicken wings, and you with your chicken burger. The afternoon is filled with familiar tunes of laughter, as you guys argue over whether drummies or flatties are better. Shuri says drummies are better because there’s more meat and you argue that flatties are better because there’s less bone and cartilage.

“Black folk don’t complain about things like bone and cartilage, y/n.”

“Well this one does,” you chuckle, pointing to yourself. Shuri laughs with you, taking a fry and chugging it at your face.

“Shut up and eat your nasty chicken burger.”

“It’s actually really good, wanna bite?”

Shuri audibly gags and you toss a fry right back at her.

“Don’t make me come over there and bite you.”

“I’d like to see your try.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she mocks. You roll your eyes, chugging another fry at her. Shuri scrunches her face.

“You think you’re so funny huh? You’re lucky we’re not alone, you wouldn’t feel so funny anymore,” she subtly jokes. And it’s stupid half-jokeful threats like that that make your pussy pulse. You cross your legs slowly, desperate to ease the throbbing between your legs. Shuri notices, and lets out a soft chuckle. She knows what she’s doing and it’s driving you insane.

Once you guys are done with your meal, you make your way to the pool tables in the corner of the restaurant.

“Ready to get absolutely destroyed?” Shuri asks.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.”

Shuri was a pro and she laughed hysterically at the way you constantly put the Q-Ball in the hole, but she would let you have another turn anyway because she low-key felt bad. She would grab your hips and maneuvre them, guiding you. You would bend over the pool table with subtle intent, and you could swear she was looking where you wanted her to look. The game was filled with less of the actual game and more of Shuri teasing both your mind and body.

“Stop,” you pleaded into her, knowing full well you did not want her to.

“You know you don’t want me to.”

“Shuri…please.”

She did not listen. She hugged you from behind, her hands lingering right above your pussy and it made you throb. Your mind travelled to that sinful place consumed with unholy thoughts of how you imagined how skillful those hands were. She was a serious flirt, but you had to convince yourself that she did not like you for the sake of your sanity.

“Why can’t we just stay like this??” she whispered into the nape of your neck. You abruptly turned around to face her, submerging yourself in the depth of her brown eyes. Her curls were coiled to perfection, treading down her forehead like a waterfall. Her mouth slightly opened, revealing the gold layered underneath her two-toned lips. You wanted her desperately.

“Why are you so scared of commitment?” you ask. You knew this was not the place, nor the time, but you were tired. Crippled by the way she had such easy access to you without fully giving herself to you and your body. She let go of you so easily, and your heart sank at the crude gesture.

“Why you always do that, huh? Always ruining it with your stupid questions.”

The lump in your throat grows as you bite on your bottom lip. You fight the tears that are itching to pierce through, but you refuse. She did not get to see you like this. She didn’t deserve it.

“Fuck you,” you say through heavy lungs. You begin to make your way out the door, but you're stopped by Shuri’s hands gripping your waist, forcing you to face her. You don’t fight it. There’s no use.

“Is that what this is all about, nkosazana? You wanna fuck me?” her voice is so silky and her words seep through your pores, forcing your body to give into her. “Cuz I will, if that’s what you want. Bend you over the pool table if I have to. Give everyone a show.” She was devious. She knew the dominance her words had over you, and she never failed to use that to her advantage. She toyed with you, knowing you’ll run back without fail.

You look at the space around you. The restaurant is pretty empty for the most part, the people that are there are fairly good at pretending to mind their own business.

“Shuri…let me go,” you gently plead. She obliges, aggressively making her out of the restaurant and back into her vehicle. You follow her. She does not open the door for you this time.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The car ride is quiet and unfamiliar, her tunes calmly playing in the background being the only thing keeping you from going insane. You have no idea where she’s taking you, and you’re honestly too afraid to ask. You look up at her for a quick second, her jaw is clenched and her eyes are low. She looks tired and you almost feel bad.

“Where are we going?” you ask, breaking the deafening silence.

“You’ll see.”

She pulls into a park, leaving you confused but you let her lead the way. She puts her car in park, and begins to stroll as you try to keep up with her. The park was quite beautiful and secluded. There was no one here, but you can still hear the music of the busy city playing in the distance.

“Shuri…where are we going?”

“I said, you’ll see.”

Shuri continues to stroll, stopping at a pretty open field with trees sprinkled here and there. There is however, one larger tree that overshadows the rest. She makes her way there, sitting on the soft grass that grows beneath. You follow her, doing the same. Shuri stays quiet for a few seconds, basking in the wind that seeps through her curls. It’s a beautiful sight really, the way someone so energetic and full spirit takes the time to bask in what nature has to offer. You wonder what’s going on in that mind of hers, what hides behind the smile she chooses to wear everyday. Finally, she speaks.

“This tree reminds me of home. Not as strong, and nowhere near as tall, but still beautiful nonetheless.”

You smile, noticing the subtle melancholic gaze in her eyes as she admires the strength of its bark.

“This is where I come after every argument I have with you. I sit here, and reminisce on what once was…and think about all the ways I’m hurting you. I don’t mean to but…I just wish I could be better.”

You take her hand, and she lets you. There’s a question stuck in your throat that you so badly want to ask her, yet you fear the reaction she’ll have. Shuri has carried the title of “the Black Panther” for a couple months now, and not once has she truly sat down with you and told you about how she truly felt about holding that mantle. You swallow, before allowing yourself to ask her.

“So…so how does it feel?”

Shuri looks at you in confusion. “How does what feel?”

“To be the Black Panther and hold all that responsibility? I know you Shuri, you’re hurt. The thing about you is you hurt alone.”

Silence.

“Shuri…you have to be able to talk to me about these things. You have people that love you, that want to be there for you…”

Shuri’s face hardens, her usual sarcastic smile fading into one that’s almost unrecognisable. It’s almost like a veil has been lowered, paving way to what really nestled there and your chest grows heavy at the sight. She places her elbows on her knees and sighs. Your smile mirrors hers, fading as the environment around you grows cold, the air becoming thick. For a moment it seems like Shuri is lost in the blades of grass beneath her, staring intensely into the ground. Her head falls forward, as she noticeably gathers the courage to speak over whatever her heart is trying to hold in.

Finally, her heart speaks.

“You know…when my brother died, I also lost a piece of me. It was one of the hardest things to accept knowing I could have saved him had I had the time to come up with some type of scientific cure to his illness. But then he was just…gone. Taken away from me with little warning. Sometimes I regret not being by his side as he took his final breath, but I try not to be too hard on myself. I was trying to save my brother, and I was doing the best I could.”

“Shuri…I--”

“And then when my mom was taken from me…” she pauses and bows her head. Tears gently fall from Shuri’s eyes, like dewdrops. You feel the tears swell in your own eyes and do nothing to hold them in. Of course you knew that Shuri was hurting from her loss, but never did you truly grasp the hurt that came with bearing the weight of being the Black Panther. How could you?

“I did not want to be the Black Panther. That was never my goal in life, nkosazana. Had you told me a couple years ago that I was going to be Black Panther in a few years time, I would’ve laughed in your face…” Shuri lets out a faded smile, combating tears and fighting the swelling in her own throat. “I cut my hair when I lost my brother, as a sign of grieving. It’s a Wakandan practice. And I’m not even a spiritual person but it seemed like the right thing to do…for him.”

You look at Shuri, admiring the dark yet beautiful significance behind Shuri’s short curls that caress the edge of her forehead. For a moment, you remember Shuri with her once braided hair, and you remember the reaction you had when she suddenly cut it off.

“You cut your hair?? But why??”

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it. I really like it…but why the sudden switch up?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like something new.”

And you smiled at her. She looked good.

Your stomach turns as you remember that conversation. You remember the way she looked that day, sadder than usual even if she tried her best to uphold her same, sarcastic self. Her almond eyes were weary, and you were oblivious to the significance behind her short curls.

“I promise you y/n, being Black Panther does not feel good. Not for the reasons I am anyway.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tears to stream without halt. You wanted to grieve alongside Shuri, letting her know she’s not alone.

“I’m sorry…I wasn’t intending to--”

“It’s fine nkosazana…I needed to let that out,” Shuri assures you.

You force out a soft smile, adjusting yourself so you’re sitting on your knees in front of her. You heighten yourself to meet her eye level, cupping her tear stained cheeks as you bravely place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Shuri smiles tenderly, exhaling in relief. She grabs your hands as her own lips meet your knuckles. She’s so beautiful. Even in the midst of her pain and tears, her vulnerability makes you want to pull her in and take her pain away. If you could, you would. But you can’t. Instead, you just allow Shuri this moment of brokenness, evident of what she hides behind the bright sarcastic smile she wears almost everyday.

For the first time in your friendship, you feel like you know her. Truly, truly know her. Beyond her jaded smile, her capability to light up the room, and the hurt that comes after, you finally feel like you see her for who she is. You ponder all of this, making your already complicated relationship with her even more complicated. You loved her, you can admit that now, but you also loved yourself. It was no secret that Shuri was broken, but it often felt like she was slowly but surely breaking you in the process. The way she would lure you in, lead you on, and then leave you with nothing, it hurt. But you knew you couldn’t just leave her, and now you fully understand why.

“I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t give you what you deserve,” she says, almost like she’s reading your mind.

“And what is it you think I deserve, Shuri?”

She takes a deep breath in, admiring the tree that hugs the both of you, making you feel small.

“You deserve someone who’s gonna make you smile, gonna give you 100 percent. You deserve someone that’s not gonna make you feel like…this.” She holds your hands, just brushing her lips against the crevices of your knuckles.

“Shuri…I don’t need 100 percent. I just need you to be honest with me.”

She continues to look down, her tear stained cheeks gleaming against the sky’s reflection. You place your palm on her cheek, and she buries her face there. You love her. Oh how you love her.

“I want you to know I’m here for you, Shuri. And I love you…but I can’t keep up with this push and pull with you because everytime we get closer, you pull back, and it’s exhausting,” you choke up.

“I know, sthandwa, I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing that? It’s hurtful, but you know I can’t stay away from you, you KNOW how much I like you and being around you makes me feel…incredible. And sometimes it seems like you feel the same but then other times…not so much.”

Finally Shuri’s dark eyes meet yours.

“You know I love you, right?”

“No, actually I don’t know. I know you’re broken and I know you need love, but do you actually love me?”

“I do.”

“Then let me in. Let me be there for you.”

Silence.

“Shuri…please.”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleads.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But I NEED to know that you’re not going anywhere either.”

“Everyone I love…dies.”

You sigh. Her hurt is so heavy, it seems like the atmosphere around grows thicker with each tear that’s shed, making it harder to breathe.

“Shuri--”

“No, listen to me y/n. Everyone I love dies. Do you understand that? It’s why I could never allow myself to fully give myself to you, because if I admit that I love you, then what happens? I can’t lose you. I just can’t, I need you, please don’t leave me,” she cries through shattered breaths. She is sobbing, her face buried into your hands as your knuckles collect every tear that streams down. The sight of her in complete and utter surrender to her brokenness forces you to pull her in, her head seeping into your chest as she weeps into the fabric of your shirt. You hold her like your life depends on it, like HER life depends on it.

“Sshhh, baby it’s ok. It’s ok baby, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. It’s ok.” You repeat those words over and over again, as many times as necessary until she believes it. You hold her in your embrace, as her stifling sobs become less and less. Even when her sobs come to a halt, she lingers in your grasp, basking in your scent that she loves dearly. You remind her of home and you wanted to be her home, even if that meant having to deal with the reality of her shattered heart. It didn’t matter to you, because you were more than willing to pick up the pieces along the way and fix it like a 1000-piece puzzle. Shuri clears her throat, wiping the tears off her face as she comes back up to meet your gaze. Her face was puffy, her lips swollen from all her crying but even in this state she was beautiful and everything you could ever ask for. She caresses your face with her thumb, wiping away your tears as she finally brings you in for a kiss. Contrary to popular belief, this was your guys’ first kiss. Your lips press against her swollen ones as you relax into her. The world around you went black and white, the tree and Shuri being the splash of colour in the painted landscape surrounding you. She releases you from the passion of her lips and for the first time, everything was right.

“Let me take you home, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

You guys kiss once more before leaving the comfort of the tree above.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The car ride allows Shuri to come back down, her sarcastic self returning after pouring her heart before you. This time, it felt lighter. Because even though you have always loved the part of her that was able to consistently bring laughter to your lips, you love it even more now that she has nothing to hide from you.

When you guys reach your apartment, Shuri continues with her usual gestures; unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the door for you. She follows you into your complex, leaning on the door frame in anticipation. On any other day, she would invite herself in without your permission but not this time.

“Can I come in?”

You chuckle at the question. “Of course you can come in.”

You get comfortable in your satin pink Victoria Secret Pyjama set, shorts with a matching button up top. You slide on your fluffy slippers and walk back out as Shuri is clicking away at netflix. Shuri laughs at the sight of you in your pj’s and you give her the finger.

“What? I think you look cute.”

You roll your eyes, taking your place beside her as she continues searching for a movie.

“I don’t see why everyone raves so much about netflix. There’s nothing good on here anyways,” she teases, setting the night on a good tune. You snatch the remote from her hand, looking for your favourite comfort movie.

“What are you looking for?”

“The Greatest Showman.”

“Say what now?”

You hit her on the shoulder, laughing at the way she bugs you.

“It’s a musical. It’s good.”

“Fuck a musical. Imagine if we actually broke into song in real life, that’s how stupid it looks.”

“You’re insane. Musicals are amazing.”

“Whatever. If you wanna watch it, then I wanna watch it.”

You rest your head on her lap as she caresses the curls on your head. She rudely takes the remote and pauses halfway through the movie.

“The fuck was that for? It’s not done.”

“I know, but I’m done. This is boring.”

You alter your position, the back of your head resting on her thighs as you look directly up at her. She lets out a crooked smile, and your heart trembles at the site of gold shimmering on her bottom teeth.

“Those look good on you. Like, really good on you.”

“Thanks, I made them myself.”

Of course she did.

“Well, what do you want to do then?” you ask, unsure if you’re hinting at something deeper or not.

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do.”

“Bullshit. I wanted to watch The Greatest Showma--”

“You know what I mean, nkosazana,” she cuts you off. “Don’t be difficult.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, as you ponder her words. It was all so much. Normally, she would tease you with just the right amount of sex just enough to get you aroused, making sure her grasp on you is still there, and do nothing to ease your sexual frustrations and it was almost hurtful. You desired her in every way possible, yet she denied you the pleasure of her. Was this time any different?

“Shuri, don’t. Every time you do this, you rile me up, get me wet and then leave me hanging. It’s annoying.”

“I get you wet?” she teases.

“Don’t act oblivious. You know you do and you do it on purpose.”

Shuri chuckles at the way you’re so easy to piss off.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

You remove yourself from her lap, sighing in annoyance as your cunt grows damp…again. Shuri kisses you, and you moan into her mouth at the contact of her grills. You didn’t fully notice them earlier when you shared your first kiss, but now you do and your mind pictures the gold grazing other places, and that’s the end of it. The kissing becomes more and more aggressive, forcing you to straddle Shuri. You hover over her lap as you begin to grind lightly.

“Open your mouth,” Shuri whispers, low and husky in her demand. You obey, as Shuri slips her tongue inside, tasting the way you salivate for her. She grabs your waist, influencing the way you grind into her crotch and it makes your pussy pulse in desperation. She pauses as she admires you. You’re so worn down and tired, not only from the intense day you shared with her but because of the endless war you had between your mind and your heart for Shuri. She notices this, the way you crave her and this time she promises to ease your ache. She slides two of her fingers into the satin of your shorts, and feels the soaking wet arousal through your panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking wet.”

You shut your eyes in embarrassment. Nothing is even happening and yet you feel like you can explode from Shuri’s words alone. It’s almost like this was her plan the whole time, to string you along and play with your emotions so when the time came, you would give in without difficulty. You bite your bottom lip as your light moans start to pool out. Your eyes soften as Shuri’s thumb presses your clit through the material of your panties. You rock into her, needing more.

“It’s ok sthandwa, I’ll take care of you. Here let’s get these off you.” Shuri slips the satin shorts off, continuing her slow and torturous movements over your clit. You tilt your head back a little, your breathing picking up as you softly beg for Shuri to give you more.

“Please Shuri, I need more,” you exhale. Shuri smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. She pushes your panties to the side, exposing your milky cunt. The wetness pulled with the material of your panties, making a mess on Shuri’s fingers.

“Bast y/n, how long have you been wet like this??”

“Since the car ride to the restaurant,” you shamelessly admit, trying to control the pace of your breathing. Your chest is heaving up and down, and Shuri rips the buttons of your shirt, your cleavage pushed into her face.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, sthandwa sami, I’ll make it up to you,” Shuri says, driving you insane. “You’re so beautiful,” Shuri continues, but your mind isn’t even fully there. You just want her, all of her.

“What is it you want from me?” Shuri teases, knowing exactly what you want but she wants to hear it from your own mouth. You’re so timid, but not timid enough to keep yourself from getting what you so clearly need from her.

“I want you inside of me,” you pant.

“Uthixo ntombazana (Good girl).”

Shuri takes her two fingers, wetting them with your pleasure before she slips them inside, pumping in out. She slowly, but surely, picks up the pace as you dig your head into her neck, moaning so closely into her ear as inspiration for her to keep going. You feel it everywhere, your whole body on fire as your pussy is screaming to release itself.

“I’m gonna stop pumping my fingers for a moment, sthwanda. I want you to bounce and ride my fingers, pretend it’s my dick, yeah? Wanna see your tits bounce in my face as you ride me,” Shuri softly demands.

“Ok,” is all you’re able to say in the midst of your pleasure. You start bouncing up and down, appreciating every stroke you feel rubbing up inside you. Your cunt is pulsing, twinging for more. You pick up the pace, your breasts bouncing up and down to the tempo of your movements as Shuri just sits there and watches the way your body trembles at her touch. You’re a moaning mess, every leap brings you that much closer to your release and you can feel it immensely. Shuri takes her thumb and circles your clit, forcing you to clutch onto her shoulders as you ride her out. Your head bucks backwards and your mouth is wide open as Shuri’s name falls out, your body sweating at the impact.

“Shuri…Shuri you feel so good inside of me. I wanna cum so bad in your hand.”

“I’ve got it from here y/n, you did so good,” Shuri assures as she proceeds to finger your cunt, curling them just right to hit the area you terribly needed her most. She quite literally finger fucks you, smiling wickedly at the way you surrender to her touch.

“Shuri I’m gonna cum, I can feel it.”

Shuri slides a third finger in, your pussy expands with ease like it was prepared beforehand. You moan her name unapologetically, dipping your head onto her shoulder as your grasp onto her thick curls. Shuri loves the feeling of your pussy widening as she pushes in and out you, assaulting your walls like your pussy belongs to her.

“I’m so close, baby, so so close. Please don’t stop.” Your mind is in another world, preparing your body for the celestial experience approaching the muscles in your cunt. Shuri slams inside you a few more times, allowing your core to finally release itself. Your eyes shut as tears pool out of your eyes. You moan Shuri’s name with confidence, as you bury your face into her neck once more.

“Oh my god, Shuri. UNH. Shuri…I…”

“I know baby, it’s ok. Let it out. Just let it out, it’s ok.”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god…”

Shuri lets you ride out your high before she pulls out, your slick running down her hand.

“Again?” you desperately plead.

“What’s that, mama?”

“...again?”

“What do you need me to do, nkosazana?”

You get shy and bury your face into the palm of her hands. Shuri places a kiss on your forehead, easing you of your embarrassment. She unclips your bra, your breasts pooling in her face. She picks you up with her panther strength and lies you on your back.

“It’s ok baby, just tell me what you need.” Shuri pinches one of your hard, erect nipples and takes it into her mouth, caressing and fondling your other breast.

“I want you-”

“Mhmm?”

“I want you to touch me, or lick me, whichever one works, just please…please Shuri I need you.”

“I am touching and licking you.”

You can no longer take the teasing.

“My cunt. Please, fuck my cunt, please.”

Shuri smiles. “Anything for you, nkosazana.”

Shuri travels her way down your body, leaving nothing untouched. You are breathing heavily, you have quite literally never felt like this before. Shuri’s mouth approaches your thighs, but she stops to spread you open a little more, admiring the glistening pussy in front of her, wet with the desire that she created. She smiled, proud of the power she had on you. She begins placing kisses in between your thighs and you push your cunt forward, signalling your dire need for her mouth on you. Shuri laughs softly at the gesture.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m getting there.” She plants a kiss on your throbbing clit, taking it into her mouth, sucking and kissing until it’s swollen. You are a mess, your mouth hanging open from the influence of Shuri’s tongue between your pussy lips. The coldness of her grill and the warmth of her tongue combine to create the most seraphic feeling.

“Do you want me to take these out?” Shuri asks, motioning to the gold layered on her bottom teeth.

“No, please don’t. Please, it feels so good, don't stop.”

Shuri obeys, taking her tongue into the flesh of your sex. Your back arches in response as her tongue meets your clit again.

“Shuri that feels so good, fuck.”

“I know, baby.”

“Please-please don’t stop, keep going.”

“Trust me, I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Shuri lifts her face off, and looks at your swollen cunt. Her mouth glistened with a mixture of her own saliva and your pleasure. She takes two fingers and inserts them into you, forcing you to grip the fabric beneath.

“You’re so beautiful baby shit. I love the way your pussy wraps so tight around my fingers like that. Like you’re molded just for me.”

“Unh, yeah…I like it too,” you struggle to say amongst your pleasure.

Shuri cocks a smile and continues to pump in and out, placing her thumb on your clit once again. Both your eyes and head fall back, the palms of your hands tingle with warmth.You can feel the nerves around your clit tightening and the muscles inside you begin to shudder.

“Look at you baby, you’re a mess. All because of my touch.”

“Shu-Shuri?”

“Yes baby?”

“Can you put your mouth on me again? Your grills feel so good on my pussy, please.”

This makes Shuri wet herself, although she already was. Seeing the power she had on the beautiful goddess beneath her sent her cunt dripping. But her priority is making sure you cum multiple times before she does. It’s the least she can do after everything she’s put you through.

Without hesitation, Shuri lowers herself back down to your brown pussy. She takes her two fingers, using them to spread your labia open, paving way to the fleshy colour that hid beneath. The sheen glaze of your juices reminds Shuri of the way sap seeps out of trees back home.

“Bast y/n, you’re so wet. So wet and puffy for me.”

She sinks her mouth back down, licking and kissing your pussy lips as she continues to pump her fingers in and out. She takes your clit back into her mouth and slightly bites, sending your mind into hysteria. The mixture of pain and pleasure, along with warmth of her tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge right then and there. And the grills. The grills just feel so fucking good grinding against your clit and pussy lips.

“Yes Shuri, that feels so good. Unh, I want to cum please.”

Shuri lifts herself off and removes her fingers, leaving you completely untouched and it’s unbearable. Shuri notices this and reassures you.

“I’m going to make you cum ok? I can feel your pussy throb on my mouth, y/n.” She climbs back up, placing a kiss on your forehead as she caresses your face. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe I made you wait this long.”

She makes her way back down, splaying your knees over her shoulders so she can reach depths you didn’t even know you had. She laps away, making strategic movements with her tongue into and around your pussy, making sure her grills are making contact with your enlarged clit. You're digging your hands into Shuri’s curls, trying not to grasp too tightly but you also cannot help it. You ride her face, circling your hips to apply more pressure. Shuri moans into you as the world around you goes silent, with nothing but the sound of raw lust spilling out of your throat mixed in with the wet commotion of Shuri’s tongue against you.

“Shuri? Shuri I have to cum,“ you whimper.

“Try to hold on a bit longer nkosazana, I’m not quite done. You think you can do that for me?”

“Ye--Yeah. I think so.”

“Good girl.”

You pause your circling hip motions, allowing Shuri to just eat you out. It takes every ounce of muscle in your body to not cum at that very moment, and it makes you squirm in anticipation. Shuri continues lapping away, consuming you like she’s starving. The room around you begins to settle somewhere between a blur and a galaxy with all its colours. You were going to cum, your pussy pleading to spill into Shuri’s mouth. You cross your legs around Shuri, basically putting her into a headlock. Her face is completely drowned into your wet cunt, as you proceed to ride her face. You can feel the blood flow between your thighs increase, causing the blood vessels in your pussy to dilate.You hyperfocus on the way Shuri’s grills play with your clit and it sends you over the edge. You feel it everywhere, from the back of your neck all the way down to the soles of your feet. Your eyes roll back as your mouth drops open, moaning in your utmost satisfaction as your heart pulses almost as fast as the nerves in your pussy.

“Oh my, OH MY FUCKING GOD, UNH. Holy fuck…shit Shuri. FUCK.”

You unlock Shuri from your leg grip, as she comes up and kisses you on the mouth making sure you taste your own pleasure that gleams against her dark skin.

“You’re incredible,” she says into your mouth, trying to catch her own breath.

You blush, still attempting to grasp reality as you push through your orgasmic high. She was more than you had ever imagined, surpassing every sexual fantasy you had of her prior to this very moment.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, y/n.” Shuri helps you put your pyjamas back on, and you’re trying so hard not to fall asleep. Shuri cradles you into her chest, placing kisses all over your head once again.

“So you’re a ‘sleep after sex’ type person? Duly noted,” Shuri teases.

“Shuri?”

“Yes y/n?”

“Stay with me tonight, please.”

Shuri lets out a mellow smile. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

She plays with your curls, delicately placing her fingers between each coil.

“I…I just want to say I’m sorry, for all the shit I put you through. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You look up at her, her brokenness piercing through those brown eyes you love so dearly.

“Shuri, nevermind all that. Just be with me, yeah?”

Shuri lets out a sigh of relief, a single tear escaping her tear duct.

“I love you so, so much,” she says. You know the strength it took for her to say that, to admit the love she carried after losing almost everyone that came before you. You’re so proud of her, so in love with every ounce of her being that it sets your body in an overwhelming fire. But the heat only cleared the path to the love you wanted to give her, the love she deserved after the world ripped everything she ever cared about.

“I love you, Shuri. Always.”

This is it. This is all you need. All you both need. You fall asleep in each other's arms, as you dream about the big tree. This time there was no brokenness, no pain. Nothing but love and genuine happiness as you kissed her underneath the tree’s embrace. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

[onyour-right]

Y'all, I don't know what made Gen V writers think they had the right to hurt me this badly. PLEASE, WHAT WAS THIS EPISODE??? The way this episode tugged at my heartstrings was unforgiveable.

My precious baby girl Cate, she did many things wrong but at the same time did absolutely nothing wrong and I need for her to know that. Her mother was trash to the core & needs to choke. What she needs now is a good ole hug and some hot cocoa because the way she must have been suffering all those years knowing so much and having nobody to tell... I'm glad she now has Marie. Also, now that she's off those pill blockers or whatever they were, the full range of her powers is gonna be immenseeee.

Jordannnnnn my beloved, the love of my life. Nah, the way it hurt me to see him crying. Derek Luh you were phenomenal. Like, they've literally never done anything wrong EVER. They are so precious to me. The guilt they must have been carrying knowing that they saw the interaction between Luke and Brink but bought into the lies & manipulation. At least they questioned it though, some people would have just outright ignored it.. I also kinda feel like Marie reminded them of their original goal to be a hero and what it truly meant and how detrimental being selfish is which is why they were so ruffled by her. Also, Andre can choke for the way he spoke to Jordan... "just always looking out for yourself" EXCUSE YOU, THE PERSON FUCKING HIS BFFs GIRLFRIEND!!!

Andre, bruhhhh. Like I get why he was mad but he was acting like the moral police meanwhileeeeeeee absolute trash. I actually for one second thought him, Cate & Luke were in some polyamorous relationship kinda thing BUT they werent.. he just is "that guy". The only good thing he did was telling Cate to wake tf up. Also, the tone he took with Marie too, like boy if you don't sit your ass down somewhere.. You're on thin ice pal!!

Marieeeee, my precious angel, my beautiful baby girl. She is the definition of a girl's girl. I love her so much omggggg and the fact her sister thinks she's a monster makes my heart break for her. Also love that she was the only one to stand up for Cate and openly give her another chance!!! Jaz absolutely killed it.

Marie/Jordan. THE EYES NEVER LIE. These two kept looking at each other, standing next to each other... like, it's married couple material right there. The both of them need to sit down and talk but I also love that they're going the slow burn route with them.

Emma and Sam were cute but reallyyyyy?? Everyone's fighting for their life but they're just having sex lmaoooo. Good for them though.

Shetty needs to die, as does the Dr. Sorry, I make the rules. It would be poetic justice for Sam to be the one to kill them after all the shit they've done to him.

Also, next week's episode is titled 'Sick'. I have a feeling that the supes (the main 6) are gonna be infected maybe at the end of the episode & Marie will have to find a way to save them. Because of her blood powers she might not be susceptible to catching the disease, which is why the Dr wanted to test on her so badly. OMG WHAT IF JORDAN STARTS SHOWING SYMPTOMS WHILE THEM AND MARIE ARE DOING DETECTIVE THINGS. Thats honestly fanfic material right there...

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Chapter 8

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

CW: a whole lot of fluff, intense feelings, angst, self doubt, slight reference to depressive symptoms, crystal appears for the first time (she's reader's best and only actual friend), playful teasing between friends, crystal is a sweetheart, some funny/feel good parts, protective neteyam, neteyam flirting with reader, heated make out session, sharing the same bed trope (idk if it counts lol), cuddling, sexual tension, kissing, mentions of being turned on, moaning, love confessions, neteyam licking reader's neck, neteyam using his fangs to tease reader in a sexual way, reader still feels a bit weird about her deep love for neteyam, bad words, melancholic vibes, reader is gradually letting go of her fears and diving deep into her relationship with neteyam. Lemme know if I forgot anything

Hi, my babies! I hope y'all like this chapter. I only had the inspo to finish it today ahaha comments are always VERY appreciated by this author! 💕 I love all my readers. You guys give me a reason to go on and not give up on my dreams (I think some of you already know I dream of becoming a pro writer one day) even when everything is dark around me.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 7

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

They think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange

But I don't have to fucking tell them anything

And I'm gonna write it all down, and I'm gonna sing it on stage

But I don't have to fucking tell you anything

That's the beauty of a secret

You know you're supposed to keep it

Strange Love (Halsey)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Yesterday had been a mess of a day. But it also ended up being one of the best days you had in such a long time. You finally had the courage to tell Neteyam about how you truly felt about him.

Today you were gonna see Neteyam at night again. You two had come to a conclusion that he would spend some time with you in your room during the eclipse. The fact that the both of you would be alone in your room for hours, when you would be wearing only a nightgown (you just were not a pajamas kind of girl) made you feel nervous in a good way. The butterflies in your stomach were flying round and round and they would not leave you alone. It felt good, though. That kind of euphoria made you forget the many things in life that would make your heart hurt way too often.

You were cooking in the lab kitchen and singing to yourself, in a low tone, excited, thinking about seeing Neteyam's beautiful big blue face again, his bioluminescent freckles adorning his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin… He was so perfect. At least to you. You did not care if the other humans found his appearance weird.

Crystal was there in the kitchen with you, her back hunched as she cleaned the floor using a high tech machine that resembled a mixture of a broom and a vacuum cleaner and had green and blue lights that shone in irregular patterns throughout its handle. She noticed how happy you looked and smiled.

"What's up with you, (y/n)? You've been so down lately and now you're singing while preparing food?" She teased you in a friendly way, laughing slightly.

Crystal was such a sweet girl. She was so calm and nice to everyone, even when treated badly. You admired that quality in her.

She was a beautiful asian girl with straight raven black hair and pale skin that contrasted with her hair, making her look angelic to you. Her smile was also so kind. It was her smile that made you trust her and befriend her the first time you both spoke.

You laughed shyly while looking at her "It's nothing, Crys." That was the nickname you gave her "I'm just a bit happy today. You should be happy for me instead of teasing me!" You were now not shy but mischievous "You're the one who's always telling me to see the good in life, despite the darkness. That's what I'm trying to do." You looked back at the meat you were seasoning and thought that Neteyam was the light in the middle of darkness for you at the moment

Crystal approached you and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek "Whatever you say, little bat. I just wanna see you happy. That's truly all I want." She would always call you "little bat" because she told you that you have kind of a gothic vibe, since you're not really that into socializing and prefer your own company most times and you don't really smile at strangers. According to Crystal, that made you mysterious. You thought that was a bit cheesy but again, not your words. Crystal was the one claiming that. You laughed internally.

"I know, my Crys. And I love you so much for that. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."

"See?! You're all sappy! Something good happened! This is not just you deciding to be positive all of a sudden. If something happened, you better tell me, you hear me?!" She teased but you knew she also really wanted to know 

Sometimes you hated how she could see right through you because you didn't always want to tell her all that was in your mind, even though you loved her so much and she was your best friend. Like now, for example. You couldn't tell her about Neteyam. That was something that, at least for now, would have to be kept a secret. You could only hope Derek would be decent enough to keep his word and not tell anyone about what had happened when Neteyam saw you and him kissing.

༊⁀➷

Even though it was cold, you kept your window unlocked and slightly open that night once again - a small gap, as always - just so Neteyam could come inside your room through it.

When you saw him approaching your window, his dark blue skin looking almost magical in the dark of the eclipse, his big size now exciting you instead of scaring you, your heart started beating so fast, it was just like it was in a running competition.

You practically jumped from your bed to the floor and walked as fast as your nervous legs would let you towards the window. Neteyam smiled at you so widely. Damn, were his fangs sexy… He barely got there and you were already getting turned on.

"Neteyam!" His name came out of your mouth in such a happy tone

"Hi, hi'ì emyu. You look so pretty tonight. I missed your pretty face."

Your heart started beating faster even if it seemed like that wasn't even possible to begin with.

"You're making me blush. Stop!" You laughed nervously as you opened the window for him "Come in." You wanted to call him "baby" or something cute like that but he made you so nervous with his confident but kind and warm personality that you still couldn't manage to do that.

Once he was inside your room, he knelt down in front of you - so your size difference wouldn't be so ridiculously big -, cupped your face with both his big blue hands and kissed your lips quickly. It wasn't a long kiss but it was enough to make your legs feel weak.

"It's late, oeyä tawtute. You have to rest. You should lay on your bed while we talk. I can lay by your side. But only if you feel comfortable with that." He looked you in your eyes, trying to let you know that now he would always try his hardest to respect your boundaries

You thought that the way he was taking care of you was so lovely. It made your heart melt, honestly. And the thought of Neteyam laying next to you in your bed, your bodies so close to each other since the bed would be incredibly small to his na'vi body, made you say "yes" immediately, without thinking twice. You wanted him that close to you so bad. You had missed him all day.

Neteyam was beyond happy with your answer. You walked towards your bed and Neteyam walked right behind you. Soon enough, the both of you were sharing your bed.

"Neteyam…" Your voice echoed in the cold air of your room but Neteyam's warmth was keeping you cozy, his body pressed against yours as you both cuddled in your bed that looked ridiculously small when Neteyam was laying on it, all curled up to be able to fit there with you.

"What, yawntu?" He looked at you with eyes so tender, they made your heart feel warm and you felt truly loved after such a long time not even knowing how that felt like

"I'm sorry I didn't say it back when you said it… but… I love you too. I love you so much. I don't even know how I can feel so deeply for you if I met you not that long ago. It's been what? 4 days?" You looked concerned 

Neteyam touched your face, making you feel the heat of his big hand all over your skin

"Stop thinking too much. Just let it be. Just feel what you feel for me and don't try to reason about it. What matters is what we feel for each other. What matters is that your heart beats fast for me and so does my heart for you." 

Even though Neteyam had just reassured you, seeming to be calm and unbothered, your words did surprise him. When he first told you, in his people's language, that he loved you, you did not say it back. He tried to think it was just you still being overwhelmed with the odd situation that being in a relationship with a na'vi was to you - he knew that the fact that you two were from different species still weirded you out a bit - but he couldn't help but feel insecure. Now that you had finally declared your love for him, he felt like he could finally breathe and that horrible fear of losing you started to slowly go away.

You breathed deep and nodded. You knew he was right. You were a chronic overthinker.

Neteyam gently brought his lips to yours and gave you a kiss full of care and love. He pressed his plump, soft lips against yours and you kissed him back. You both kept your lips together for a few seconds and slowly parted, looking inside each other's eyes. There was trust there. There was something special between you both, a bond, an energy, something that you never found anywhere else before. Nobody made you feel what Neteyam did.

"I wanna tell you something."

"Please do" Neteyam started to run his slender four fingers through your hair

"I was so afraid you weren't gonna come back for me after that night when I screamed at you." Your heart hurt as you admitted that to him, but you tried not to let it show

"Do you really think I would let you go that easily? (Y/n), listen to me. I know, I just know, right here," Neteyam tapped on his chest, right where his heart was "that I will love you forever. Even if I did everything in my power to get you to be mine and I still failed, I'd still love you until the day I die. So, no, I wasn't gonna give up on you just like that. I'm the Mighty Warrior, remember?" You laughed at the silly name Neteyam calls himself as he smiled at you and chuckled "I'd fight for you until the end, hi'ì tawtute." (small human) "That's a war I'm not willing to lose. No way."

"But I treated you so badly…" You furrowed your eyebrows, gazing at him with sadness and guilt in your face

"I know… but to be fair, like you said, you're not used to my na'vi behavior. I came on too strong. I'm sorry. It's just what you do to me. It's all your fault! You're too beautiful!" His expression quickly changed from ashamed - when he was apologizing - to playful, as he got closer to the end of the sentence and he smiled at you, winning back another smile from you.

His smile was one of the purest things you had ever seen. Perhaps the purest one. So precious.

"Can I ask you something?" You spoke

"Anything, yawntutsyìp." 

"Why do you say I'm "more na'vi than human"?" I know you already explained what you mean a little bit back when we first met but… I'm gonna need more than that." You looked at him chuckling softly, wondering, as your eyes showed him how much you wanted to know the answer

"I think it should be obvious to you as much as it is obvious to me." Neteyam smirked, playfully 

"Why so?" You smiled, confused 

"I wish you could see yourself from the outside, like I can see you. I wish you could see how miserable you look living your human life, cooking and washing dishes inside that kitchen. But, when you're in your Avatar… you smile so widely, you exude childhood wonder, your happiness is so, so contagious… It's like you feel truly alive like that, like you feel free and at home. It's so beautiful to watch. That's why I used to always watch you." He smiled looking down, bashful

༊⁀➷

Some time had passed and it was now getting only a few hours away from the end of the eclipse. You knew Neteyam had to go back to his tribe soon enough. But you didn't want him to go. You wanted him to stay forever by your side, not being parted from you for a single second, as clingy as that sounded. And the best part is: you were almost sure he felt the same way. Okay, if you were to only listen to the rational voices in your brain and not to the voices telling you that you were unlovable, you knew Neteyam felt the same way. You could just feel it in the air when he was around you.

And at that moment, he was showing you how much he needed you in a way that was making you feel things you hadn't felt in so long.

Neteyam was licking the sensitive skin of your neck, making you let your head to the side, leaving more space for him to keep on doing that, as you closed your eyes and moaned, almost too loud, at the way his large tongue lapped on your neck, tasting the skin and massaging it gently. Saying that felt like Paradise would be an understatement. You had no fucking words to even start to explain what he made you feel.

"Oeyä tawtute… my yawne…" he cooed on your ear, kissing the earlobe and using his sharp teeth to nible on it a little bit "You're mine now. All mine, my muntxate." (female mate) 

Neteyam wrapped his tail around your right leg. That felt possessive but in a good way. It made you feel safe. Like belonging to him was not gonna be such a scary, anxious experience at all to you. He seemed to already know you. Neteyam held you just the way you liked it and you wanted him to keep his big arms wrapped around you for eternity. He felt just like an overused, old t-shirt that was already so used to your body that it felt extremely comfy and relaxing on your skin, making you wish you could go everywhere wearing that t-shirt. So familiar and safe.

Even if your brain still tried to tell you it was totally insane to feel like that about a guy - a na'vi - you had just met, you didn't give a damn anymore. Your sick brain already made you suffer a lot in so many areas of your life. You wouldn't let that fucking pink squishy organ ruin your relationship with Neteyam. Not anymore.

༊⁀➷

"How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,

And the place death, considering who thou art"

Juliet Capulet - Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare)

༊⁀➷

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@im-in-a-pansexual-panik

@hana-yuri

@thehoneymushroomhealer

@melllinaa

@annaibansworld

@siriuslysmoking

@avatar4eva

@ellabellabus07

@badbishsblog

@neteyamsmate4life

@c-h-i-l

@criticallybella

@celi-xxmoon

[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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[treasureofmammon]

Random mammon headcannon i want to share

He gets bad nightmares about you dying so sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat and crying. He normally cleans himself up as he sprints to your room in the middle of the night, needing to know if your ok.

Once he sees you sleeping and alive, he fixes your blanket and sits by your bed, resting his head on the bed as he stares at you. he eventually falls asleep looking at you, you have found mammon sleeping next to your bed multiple times but you he never tells you the real reason he was there

@ezracorner1

First off, I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm still figuring out how Tumblr works and realized late how to see Asks, and then I took my time to respond to you. I hope you can forgive me. I'm on my 20s, but I act like an old woman, apparently. Lol.

I took the liberty to make a short story about thiiiiissss!!!! After all, my sweet demons were on a war, they have some unresolved things to talk about and heal. They are obviously overprotective; so with a sweet little and weak lamb like us, they probably go over the top. I LOVE THE IDEA! Although I HATE the fact they probably live with PTSD, hence where the nightmares come from 😪

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Warnings: Flashbacks and topics related to war and death. Hints to mental illnesses. Obvious attraction, but not an established relationship (yet). Angst at the beginning, but also, tenderness and care. I took some creative liberties since I haven't read some parts of the story (struggling to get UR cards), so some details might change from the OG storyline. Finally, I didn't check the syntaxes of the paragraphs so much. Sorry if some stuff doesn't make a lot of sense.

*I apologize in advance for what y'all might read, I absolutely love to write, but I'm not such a good writer. Lol*

[Note: Mammon x Gn!Neutral reader. Spoilers ahead- English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors - The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. I took some creative liberty].

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Nightmares and dreams

Mammon looks at his right, familiar faces, that he once called "siblings", shattering his other loved ones forever. Their comrades and family's expressions suddenly realize that their existence, one that could be eternal, are brought to an abrupt end at that exact moment. And some of them, many even, look at Mammon with despair, lost and afraid of their own death.

His almost extinct battalion, who he commanded, conformed by his little brothers and sisters that he once witnessed brought to life in a blow of Father's breath, forever gone. Some of them he watched grow up, hugged, played, spoiled, and then... trained. Not anymore. No clue will lay in history that they existed, no irrefutable proof of who they were.

Mammon's eyes widen in horror, mouth open in surprise.

He then looks around and catches in a glimpse a spear that falls graceful and fairly as a punisher of the traitors, hovering over Asmodeus, unerring.

—No. Not Asmodeus, not him!—

Mammon runs faster than the light and slides himself with his younger brother in his arms, successfully saving him from the imminent death. Mammon sighs and thinks it's fine now, but immediately, a penetrating scream is heard, and Beel and Belphie shred tears. The time freezes: all of them stop, every single one of the angels stops, the arrows fall to the green grass, and a new flurry of arrows never comes.

—Lilith... No!—.

Lucifer takes her in his arms, but the ground immediately opens, and both fall. Lucifer's wings turn black, and horns come out of his head as he descends in rapid speed; his halo is lost on the battlefield until Michael takes it with him as a prize for nothing.

Mammon follows them without a second thought, loyal as always, worried like the second brother he is, launching himself to a fall to a who-knows-where place.

As he falls, flames consume his body, his wings burn down to his core, his white robe dissipates, his halo turns in ashes and his head throbs in pain while he feels two horns that grow from it. But he doesn't lose sight of Lucifer and of Lilith's face. Except now is not Lilith's is yours.

Mammon loses his mind: the abyss he falls in turns pitch black, swallowing Lucifer and Lilith in his arms. He has a sinking feeling in his gut and screams, not scared of his own life, but scared of Lucifer's, Lilith's, and yours until his slim body finally bursts against the ground. The room is still completely dark. Shyly, he stands up, —Lucifer? Lilith?—, he calls.

Suddenly, a reflector light turns on. You are right below it, lighted up like a star. The yellowish rays touch your silhouette gracefully as if you were an angel yourself. Beautiful. Candid. Endearing.

—MC? —

You turn around to look at him and smile tenderly, like you usually do. His heart melts. For a short moment, his worries dissappear and he smiles back. He walks to you, enchanted by your bright soul.

Until a pair of claws dig in your back. Your scream never heard. In a gasp, you fall to the ground, bloody, and a set of glowing purple eyes withdrawn into the emptiness of the never-ending darkness of the room.

—NO!— Mammon screams and rushes to you, your face now lifeless, while blood scapes your body. He cries your name, but there's no response. Suddenly, a familiar voice chants: —This is your fault! She died because of you!—. A new figure emerges from the blackness.

—Lucifer?—

—No—, finally revealing his identity, —I'm you—. Mammon's own face responds back.

Mammon's eyes open wide suddenly. Awake, gasping and panting, scared, drowned in his own sweat. He sits in his bed and takes his forehead in his hands. A nightmare.

Mammon feels his heart pace altered. And he tries to calm down.

—It was just a nightmare... right? It felt too damn real. They're here, they're just asleep, they ain't death, right?—

Rationally, Mammon knows he had a bad dream, but a part of him drags him to unreality, so he jumps out of bed, leaves his room, and makes his way to yours. On the short path, he takes his shirt off and notices that even his torso is dripping in sweat, but he manages to clean his face with his wet shirt.

Slowly and carefully, he opens the door of your room, still gasping for air, now in a much more stable breathing pace. When the door is open enough, he peeks inside your room, there, you lay in bed tranquil, your face expression at peace, and your chest slowly moving up and down, asleep.

—Thanks Lilith...—, he whispers and lets himself in your room, knowing that once again, as usual after dreaming your passing, he might be violating your space and the sanctity of your placid sleep. But, he does it anyway. You're his human, after all.

Mammon stands for a short while, looking at you, making sure you're real and safe. He fixes your blanket, covering you well. Then, quietly, he drags your desk's chair to your bed's side and sits, watching you dream your own dreams, snoring softly, comfortable, and even happy.

—I love ya—, he whispers and observes you until his eyelids can't stay open, his head resting right next to your hand.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, Mammon is lying right next to you, uncomfortable. You sigh, thinking that it's happening again.

Gently, you reach to his hand, and he wakes up in a jump, confused and scared.

—MC?—

This time, you don't ask a thing. You just pull his hand to you, and he gets the hint, half asleep, not sure if you inviting him to share the bed is another dream that feels too real again or reality itself.

Mammon nuzzles against your chest, and you throw your arms around him after covering him up with your blanket, too; then, you kiss his temple, trying to convey all your emotions in one little peck.

—I have no idea why you do this— you admit, —but I don't mind sharing my bed with you, Mammon; after all, I love you—.

Your love confession, unheard. For now, that's okay, as long as you can hold your best friend and crush on your arms as if you were lovers already.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday

How is everyone doing this afternoon/evening? I know, I've been a little MIA lately. I went through a bout of writer's block... or something? I don't even know what to call it. Anway, it has finally passed. Given that, I figured it was time to give you all an update on Destiny & Deliverance. More below the cut...

As of this morning, Destiny & Deliverance is written. It's done. Did I cry? Yes, I did. Not sure if any of my eagle-eyed followers have noticed, but I added another chapter to the masterlist. Chapter 29 just got too fucking long, so I decided to make it an even 30. I think it worked out better that way.

So, to be clear, I have two chapters and the epilogue written. I still need to do editing for all three parts. I didn't want to mess up my flow by stopping to edit. Editing usually comes easier to me than writing, so it shouldn't take too long for that. This means you will get the last three parts fairly close together. I hope y'all are ready (because I'm not).

I will say the ending took a slightly different turn than I was originally planning, but I think what we have ended up with adds another positive layer to Dieter and Talia's healing journey. I just hope you all are happy with it. 👀 Now, let's get to a snippet from Chapter 29, shall we?

As Dieter was rattling off the meeting details, I continued to move around the kitchen to pull out glasses and utensils. I happened to look down at his pill organizer on the counter and realized he didn’t take his medication or supplements this morning. I sighed as I picked it up and waved it at him with a disapproving look.  He grimaced as he reached for the organizer, “Lo siento, mi luz. I’ll do better, I promise. Today has been so hectic already.”  “Same time, every day. Take it when your alert goes off…please.” He pulled me in for a quick kiss and thanked me for the reminder. I was starting to feel like a broken record and hated nagging him, but since he started working again, he had been slipping up on things…a lot. He never complained or got upset about it. Instead, he would often thank me, do what he needed, then go back to what he had been so focused on.

Don't come at me for that, I know it sounds ominous, but it's not. I promise. Just some minor growing pains.😏 I haven't had a chance to throw together a mood board yet, so I'm dropping a few pics here as a teaser. As always, I'd love to hear your predictions.

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited @babycatkitty

[chemicallywrit]

Well well well, look who's having a real day off for the first time in six thousand years! I'm gonna write because that's what my soul needs! It's time for Audio Drama Sunday! Here's some shows I enjoyed this week...

♟️ @camlannpod first of all. I called it. Second of all. How DARE you. The discussions about names and power in this episode were fascinating and...I don't know, I love a hero who's devastatingly normal. Gwen/Shujun can make anything happen with her words, is the damsel in distress, but she's just normal. Perry is normal, Morgan is normal, and Dai might not be normal by neurotypical measures, but he's just some guy. Except that he's really not. And the group of them can either embrace it or suffer.

🧃There is never a week when @thesiltverses doesn't go all the way off, and this one went ALL the way off. We have to talk about Shrue having a whole breakdown and then moving forward anyway. Felix, Ray, and Daisy were amazing, but I also have to give all the flowers to Rhys Lawton, who I met recently and was an utterly terrible villain in this episode. Corporate horror. Who knew? (Anyone who works in corporate knew.)

🐗 The season finale of @victoriocity was funny and amazing and incredibly well done as always, but the stand-out moments are the moments of friendship between Clara and Fleet. I just. I love them your honor. They are best friends. Do not separate them. It's really good to see Fleet cracking open a little bit. Just a little. He's still Fleet, after all.

🍦I listened to the new Among the Stars and Bones on the way home from work and it was absolutely chilling. My word. The number of times I screamed. Oliver Smith was incredibly scary even in the midst of the horror, Jordan Cobb is always a treat, and my word, the crowd of Nabonidas crew members...Hey, Chris Magilton, writer of Among the Stars and Bones, what the hap is heckening???

1️⃣3️⃣ I've started listening to Thirteen! I love a horror anthology, but especially one with a central theme. So far most of the stories present you with a protagonist who is missing closure, and a creature who offers it, for a price. Thirteen is about grief. The stories are rhythmic and spooky, and at one point alone in my house I actually really scared myself listening. Check out Thirteen, it's a treat.

⛽️ In other shows I've started listening to, @desertskiespodcast is gorgeous and lovely and...the only word I can think of is effervescent. It's like a cold soda on a road trip. It's maybe just what I needed. My favorite part is definitely the cold opens, especially the one about Cash laughing. Jared Carter has incredible comedic timing.

In Inn Between news, we just posted 5.8: The Blood, which might be my favorite episode of the season, depending on how the next one turns out. In The Dead news, this next story is a HUMDINGER. Did you cry at Giancarlo in the last story? GOOD, now it's time to run for your life through London. Y'all are gonna love this.

Catch y'all next week or whenever I have time to write again! If you like what all this is, maybe drop me a tip?

[flashbangstars]

How you and NCT dream met, (college version< 333) weirdly specific

your lovely writer is in college, so I wanted to make this like lowkey realistic because that's funny to me

Mark

you work at the university's tech center part time because you're broke and kinda know technology, women in stem am I right.

he came in one day the minute y'all opened looking like he literally ran there, his computer was in a separate bag and he placed it on the counter and stared at you helplessly

"I spilled a fucking water bot- I'm sorry I spilled a water bottle over my keyboard and my thesis is due in three hours please for the love of god can you help me.

you felt kinda bad, because with the damage he was describing it was going to take way more than three hours

"I'm really sorry, I think the earliest I can get this back to you is by tomorrow afternoon"

he looked like he was about to cry and you momentarily contemplated giving him one of the lollipops from the bowl of the counter but decided against it.

checking the clock, you didn't get off for another five hours, rifling through your backpack and pulling your laptop out of it placing it on the table

"ok here's what I can do, if you can work in the student center across the hall and promise you will get this back to me when your done, you can use mine so you can have it finished. Just leave your ID with me"

he picked his head out of his arms eyes wide, "I could fucking kiss you"

"I WON"T SORRY"

"no but thank you so much oh my god"

three hours when he returned, your laptop was unscathed and he looked a little less panicked

"thank you so much, seriously you are a complete life saver"

and when you opened your computer to a sticky note stuck on the screen saying "to the cute tech girl, I'm mark xxx-xxx-xxxx"

Renjun

it was 2 am on a thursday night before finals weeks, and you had been studying for weeks for the for your finals.

you currently were in desperate need of caffeine and new pens

the cvs was right below your apartment and 24 hrs, lowkey a safe haven at this point the amount of time you spend there

you were going down the aisle and found the pilot g2s in a pack for four black ones, and the last pack.

when all of a sudden, a small pale hand snatched it from the shelf as you were reaching for it.

"excuse me, I was grabbing those"

and the perpetrator looked at you and blinked "well I had it first"

"I was literally reaching for it, like you saw me hand out"

"well sorry"

AND HE JUST WALKED AWAY WITH YOUR PENS??

so you left cvs empty handed. you did have a coconut red bull though, but watching him check out as you left was painful

when you go to the elevators for your apartment, the double doors open and there he is the pen snatcher himself.

"so are you stalking me now?" you say little bit out of spite over the loss of your pens

"god I literally live here" he says the cvs bag in his other hand a stark reminder of your loss from earlier

and when he asked you to push the same button for your floor you almost screamed

"so what finals are you studying for" he asked from the other corner of the elevator.

squinting your eyes a bit, and scanning him over once.

he's a pen stealer AND he's hot??? what the fuck

"nursing, I'm up to my neck in flashcards" you finally answering giving in

"I'm engineering, I understand your pain

you two both spend the walk to your apartments talking about finals and the mental anguish you were both in until you go to your door

"you live here?" he glanced at your door, and then at the one next to you. with a nervous laugh he rubbed his neck and looked at you again "I guess we are neighbors"

HOT PEN SNATCHER IS YOUR NEIGHBOR??

later that night a knock at your door sounded, and when you opened the door, two pilot g2 pens were sitting on a flashcard that read "from your neighbor, Renjun :)"

Jeno

you and him were in a good amount of gen ed classes (for my friends who don't know what that is - its like math, english, science -non major specific classes)

he always sat in the back where you were and sat a couple seats over

but yall had never talked, like you would do that weird eye contact on the quad like, oh i sit next to you in this class, but you never say hi

one day you got assigned to be in a group together for a project, and things went downhill

"do you have any idea what we are supposed to be doing?"

"uhh no... do you?"

you both stared at each other for a second before realizing you're both kinda fucked

"ask him" you say pointing at the guy next to him

"no that's weird, I don't know him" Jeno said whisper yelling at you now

"You don't know me either?" you argue getting annoyed

"We've sat next to each other every class since the semester started, Yes I know you?"

oh, realizing you had never noticed he always was sat there

"I literally give you extra space for your big ass pencil bag"

now looking over the desk and noticing his things we scrunched into one corner in fact leaving you the bigger half of the desk leaving him with really only a notepad and water bottle in his space

"oh... well thank you" you nod feeling your face get hot at the small gesture

"my name is jeno though" he said

" I know your name is jeno, I'm y/n. thank you for the.. the desk space"

he smiled eyes disappearing into two little crescents

"no problem! so do you maybe wanna come over to mine tonight to work on the project" he asked eyes darting between your two eyes

"Yeah, that would be great" you said forgetting that with the in class 90 minutes you probably would be able to finish, but you were also so so down to go over and "finish the project"

(you ordered food and watched movies, and may have smooched a bit)

Haechan

you were bored one evening laying in bed on a thursday, being in college ment you either had a lot of down time, or literally none at all

opening up the tinder app you starting swiping out of boredom and seeing who would pop up

Haechan 21, was your third eligible bachelor to show up on the queue

you weren't gonna lie he was attractive, he had brown hair and and brown eyes and surprisingly as a male, knew how to pose in photos

swiping right, the big blue words "IT'S A MATCH" flashed across the screen and a odd sense of pride swelled in your chest that he had swiped on you first

switching over to spotify changing your music almost immediately a text bubble popped up on the screen

New message from haechan

wow he works fast

opening up tinder again you braced yourself for whatever monstrosity that could be awaiting you in the dm

but it was a simple "hey : )"

responding back with a "hey handsome" because you were feeling bold and this is the internet, throwing your phone down on the bed and throwing a sweatshirt on to complete the trek downstair to the vending machine for late night snacks

perks of university housing, snacks available whenever

leaving your room and making it to the elevator, settling into the corner for the ride down 10 floors

a couple floors later the doors open to another floor

a pair of feet shuffle in and stand across from you in the other corner

"so you think I'm handsome?"

disadvantage of university housing EVERYONE LIVES THERE

snapping your head up from your phone to be met with none other than the Haechan 21 from your tinder spree.

"nice to meet you, I'm haechan but you already knew that" he said placing his hand out to shake, you stared at the frustratingly pretty hand and against your better judgement, shook it

"y/n"

"would you wanna join me on my snack run" he said now staring softly at you still holding your hand.

"hmm, why not"

Jaemin

you had a routine, every monday, wednesday and friday.

wake up at 6, leave at 8, call mom and get coffee, then finally go to class at 9:35

on this monday, you decided to go to the new starbucks on campus in the student center, phone pressed against your ear your mom updating you on the family & life and vice versa

"one second mom" putting the phone to your side and ordering your drink

"can I have a venti Iced americano with a extra shot and 4 pumps of vanilla please"

The barista smiled and this is weird, had really pretty teeth?

asking for your name and writing it on the side of your cup

"I like your scarf" the barista with the pretty smile said pointing to th striped scarf wrapped around you

"oh thank you" you say pressing the phone back to your ear and walking away from the register.

"y/n" pretty barista called your name and placed your drink on the counter sliding it towards you with a devastatingly pretty smile

this part of your routine continued for the next two weeks, pretty barista and you turning out to have little conversations every time you ordered and him complimenting something about your outfit each time you went and then you'd leave and continue your phone call

pretty barista had worked himself a good 5 minutes of conversation time into your routine

on a tuesday when you were walking home from the library your name got called from behind you

turning, the one and only pretty barista was jogging towards you

"I knew it was you from the scarf, you always wear it" he said grasping one end of the scarf softly in his hands

his breath turning into vapor as he spoke due to the cold

" I tried really hard these last two week but I don't think you ever noticed so I figured I was gonna have to do it in person" he said rubbing the back of his neck

"ehh?" you said head tilting and focusing on not staring at only his pretty smile

"well uh, I wrote my number on your cup at least like 4 times these last two weeks and I watch you never actually notice and then just throw your cup away, you know you're really a creature of habit?" he said now conversation flowing more comfortably

"OH my god I'm so sorry" you say now remembering all the times he would personally hand you your drink and smile.

"it's ok! but do you actually want to go out sometime and talk? when I'm not in a apron?" he asked

you laughed softly and smiled back " I would love that" looking down at your phone now at the new contact "I'll text you Jaemin"

and you watched him jog back to the student center, in the same green apron you has grown accustomed to him being in

Chenle

you and "czhong" had been arguing in the floor group chat for thirty minutes now.

this was a regular occurance, he would say some dumb shit, you would argue back and the whole floor would have to bear witness to your petty argument for however long it lasted.

as of right now he was arguing why it was fair for you to blast harry styles in the shower, and he wasn't allowed to blast justin bieber when he showered

the problem was, when you did it. it was 3 pm during the day when most students were away, WHEN HE DID IT it was midnight on a fucking school night

standing outside the men's bathroom and yelling SHUT IT OFF did nothing to quell the issues so you had reverted to the group chat again

and this fucker was texting you, FROM THE FUCKING SHOWER

your rivalry between you two was vicious and he was in fact your sworn enemy

currently it was ass o clock on a sunday night and you were working a paper with a dying computer, and your charger was in the science lecture hall, halfway across campus that was definitely locked.

y/n: does annnyyyooonneee have a macbook charger I can borrow??

absolute crickets in the gc

czhong: I do > : )

please god no

czhong: if you need it, come to D402

why were the gods punishing you now? what had you done to deserve this in a past life

begrudging you grabbed your laptop and slide on your slipper and stomped across the dorm floor to the harrowing door of your sworn enemy

knocking aggressively and stepping back waiting for your impending doom

the door swinging open to reveal him, (why tf is he hot) standing hip popped and propped against the door frame

"well well well, what do we have here" he said giving you a very obvious once over

"hand over the charger and no one gets hurt" you said extending your hand.

"uh uh, you gotta do it in here, I only have this charger and I will not part with it" he said walking further into the room leaving the door open for you

what the fuck????

against your better judgement AGAIN you walked into the room

of course he had the one single room on the floor

he gestured to the desk against the wall with the charger cord on it and pulled out the chair for you. smiling evily the entire time.

plopping down you opened your computer plugged it in and put your headphones on, as he went back to his bed and took his laptop out and placed it back onto his lap

somehow, three hours passed of you spending time in the enemy's lair. you both working in a silent lull.

closing your laptop at the 3 am mark. you looked towards the bed again and stood up. "thank you" you said genuinely and he smiled

" you know I think we work well, let me know if you ever wanna borrow the charger or just come keep me company" he said leaning his back against the wall and and looking all SMUG

scoffing and walking to the door and opening it, you turn around one last time staring him down.

"fine"

Jisung

it had been a fucking day.

you had woke up late for lecture and had to embarrassingly walk in ten minutes late taking a spot in the back

you had slept terribly and had finally gotten to be 2 hours before your alarm was supposed to go off

now you were fighting off sleep aggressively in class , you had a hour left to go and were currently losing the battle in staying awake

placing your elbows on the desk and feeling your head slowly nod off you contemplated the idea of slip and slowly slide forward on the desk

until

BANG

a giant crash sounded throughout the entire room and the class all moved to stare at you

you had slide down your desk, and had knocked your hydroflask off the desk onto the tiles floor causing a fucking loud ass crash throughout the entire lecture hall

you could die right now actually

take me now please

hanging your head as the class laughed at the mishap a second loud crash sounded throughout the room

whipping your head to the side, making eye contact with the boy who sat down your room, staring back at you already. his hand positioned at the end of his desk in a sweeping motion

had he pushed his water bottle of his desk.... in .... solidarity of you??

had he really pulled a freshman 101 mistake to help with the mass amount of embarrassment you were facing

more importantly, was he single??

smiling back at him and nodding you acknowledged his sacrifice in your honor

once class had finally ended you packed your things and ran out of there as fast as you could to escape imminent embarrassment

until you realized you had forgot one thing

your fucking water bottle

turning around with the shame weighing heavy on your shoulder you came face to face with your prince charming once again, now holding a yellow water bottle in addition to his black on that sported a new dent

" you forgot this" he said extending the hand that held yours

"do you happen to be single" fuck it

his face flushed red entirely and he stifled a laugh out of shock

"im sorry let me try that again" clearing your throat and making eye contact "I'm y/n it's nice to meet you, are you free currently"

his face started to lose a bit of the redness and the hand that had been covering up the bottom half went down and rested at his side

"jisung, and I totally do happen to be free right now" he said

"how convenient!"

---------

the tinder elevator thing lowkey happened to me, but he wasn't smooth and cool about it. he just stared at me and then messaged me about it after. men suck lowkey

[justlarkin]

Mentioning some events that I liked in the midst of beefing with LWs' writers. It's mostly due to very specific things that occur in the events rather than the events themselves to be completely honest with you.

-Casual and fun beach event. Can't go wrong there. Good moments envolving most of the characters. Nomad, Azazel, Kengo, and Oniwaka in particular for me. They deprived me of Azazel content, so this is my only morsel to latch onto. Plus we got SQ Galore, including ones for Mononobe and Lil Salomon.

-The softcore discussion of gender dysphoria was a pleasant surprise and I liked the parallels drawn between MC and Astarte as "trophies". In particular, I liked how this event revealed how much the other guys actually love MC. They were completely indifferent towards Astarte while she was the beloved, which was super weird to her, and when MC switched places with her, they immediately clocked that something was off, but not because they could visually tell MC was obviously not Astarte. They just thought Astarte was more radiant than usual. They were all over MC and giving away their shells because they're MC, not because they were the beloved.

-That scene where Heracles falls into Narcissus' Pond and he comes to the realization that his narcissism and cowardness was what led to Hylas' fate. He thought that a hero of his caliber was too precious to even risk being lost to the naiads, especially not for a guy who was practically beneath him. Heracles put himself before the life of his friend who was willing follow him to hell and back, abandoning him, and he regrets it. The parallels to Hylas' abduction with Heracles' fall as well as dialouge and narration as MC dives after him are an absolute banger. "I knew. I knew you'd come. Not by another's comand but your own free will. Your radiance makes me want to weep. Before you, the thought of the man who failed to follow Hylas makes me want to cry." MC took the leap Heracles never did for Hylas, making them a better person than himself. Such a great moment. Absolutely adored it.

-First of all, exile reveal. Second of all, the reveal that Shiro's crush is more of an all-consuming OBSESSION. Always thinking of them. Always following them whatever path they decide to take. Knowing that they relied on him was his greatest source of happiness. He wanted to help them, to shoulder any and all of their burdens in the hopes that they would eventually feel the same way as him. Shiro was desperately striving for an insane, unhealthy co-dependent relationship where MC validates him by constantly needing him to help them and it's just ?!?!? This came way out of left field.

-Algernon. Algernon. Algernon. I absolutely loved it when he randomly got jealous and tried to change the topic when MC called Yamasachihiko hot. I love that he found someone who could keep up with him, an equal, in MC. I loved that they did a little tapdance routine together while killing the slimes. Oh. And Hombre Tigre. I'm not really a big fan of him. I just really like how interesting his dynamic with Quetzalcoatl is compared to everyone else. Hombre adoring Tezcatlipoca so much that he couldn't even begin to grasp why Quetzalcoatl would leave him behind and envying him for being the one who could consume Tezcatlipoca's thoughts and breaking him in such a manner.

-Sherlock Nomad and Assistant MC, the event we had all been waiting on. Anyways, y'all should know why I liked this event. It's that one scene where they beat Hermes' and he's just sitting on the floor like a pouty little kid when MC grabs his hand and he continues his little tantrum by telling them to let go while doing nothing to stop them. Hermes finally found a friend who could look past all of his lies and accept him with MC and I'm very happy for the bastard.

-That whole chase scene where Balor reveals that he's actually been a twat this entire time and he goes after MC, trying to capture them, is mwah. Love it. Also when Boogeyman triggered that ratfuck, Balor's, PTSD with his sacred artifact just the reveal that Lugh never had a choice in the matter and that Balor caused this fate to be forced upon him, something that he feared for himself in the first place. And the reveal that Balor didn't exactly regret killing his grandson. It was just the fact that Lugh didn't choose to fight him himself.

-The way Vapula was completely indifferent to his golemns until the very end where they're all silently gazing out into the sea after Sand Dragon self-deleted while following orders and are clearly fucked up about what they just witnessed, truly understanding how morbid Sand Dragon's existence was and the inevitability of his death, when MC turns to Vapula and says "Vapula.... We never got to name him" and Vapula just starts BAWLING.

-Oh look. A well executed plot twist. Loved the way that they conveyed Horus and Seth's true bond through how compatible and fluidly their memories were able to work together to fight against the group. Then there's the use of Seth's old memories to reveal that Horus had been on his side the entire time and that he was even the one who let him flee Duat. Also, an expansion on what seemed to be such a simple rule. Being able to control the sand being way more powerful than expected through a technicality.

-This one might actually be my favorite event. No. Not because it's a Fuxi or bird event. Shut your slut mouth. Banger music, great story, great picks for the characters and the dynamics, an exile reveal. Fuxi being so unhinged that he tries to fight literal children and Simurgh playing the straight man to his funny man will always be funny. Also, there was just that one moment where MC went "pull the trigger pussy" while Simurgh held a gun to their head and that's so based of them. Mostly dissapointed we didn't get more Nüwa lore.

[fandoms-writings]

EVENT CLOSED

Those of you wanting to submit a story for the writing challenge at the end of this post, I'm accepting submissions until the end of the year. I'm a slow writer myself and I want y'all to have as much time as you need to join in <3

Welcome to my neon milestone party!

It’s been a few months since I last did a celebration or writing challenge so why not kick off summer with both! I also hit another small milestone, so thank you so so much to all of you for your support 🤍

You must be 18+ to follow me, so you must be 18+ to participate!

We’re gonna have a summer long sleepover, mood boards, a writing challenge, and my requests are officially open for drabbles! 

The cut off is the last day in August!

Under the cut you’ll find all of the ask games and prompt lists and challenge rules! 

Have fun babes  🤍

💎 Rare gems

- Show some love to your fav fics and their authors by sending in some recommendations!

🗒 Ask the Author

- Ask me anything you want about something I’ve written!

📖 Book talk

- Tell me about your favorite book or what you’ve recently read, and why you enjoy it (or why you don’t)

🤫 Secret admirers

- Anonymously (or not) send a love letter to your favorite tumblr person!

🎶 Karaoke

- Send a song recommendation or I’ll put my liked songs on shuffle and send you which one played first!

🫘 Spill the Beans!

- Anonymously (or not) tell me a secret of yours.

🔍 Clue!

- Send me this emoji and I'll post a wip clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and you guys get to guess what it's about. 

🎩 Top 5!

- Another classic. Send me a category, and I'll tell you my top 5 choices within it. 

🙅🏻‍♀️ Never Have I Ever

- This one's pretty self explanatory I think. 

💌 Love letters (mutuals only) 

- I’ll write you a love letter 🥺

🎰 - Spin the Lottery! (mutuals only)

- send me a lil snippet about you (a hobby, your job, your music taste, etc) and a fandom (or not) I’ll pair you with a character from that fandom🤍

Send me a little something - a song, a character, a trope, a quote - anything to give me an idea, and I’ll make a mood board for you 🤍

If you need one for a story even! I’ll gladly help out 🤍

My requests are open for drabbles! Send me a character (it can be from one of my AUs! or not)  and one or two of the prompts from the list below, and I’ll whip up something small for you! As they get requested, they will be crossed off the list 🤍

Angst: 

"Don't go where I can't follow. . . I thought I lost you." (1/2)

"Why didn't you say how bad it was?"  (2/2)

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself."  (1/2)

"You're a mess"/"I'm not a mess."/"I can tell you've been crying."  (1/2)

"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right."  (2/2)

"What are we doing?"/"Why are you doing this?"  (1/2)

"I know you, how else do you think I found you so easily?"   (1/2)

"Choose me."  (2/2)

Fluff:

"You know my door is always open for you, right?"  (2/2)

"Will you taste this? Tell me if I'm missing anything?"  (1/2)

"Let me kiss it better."  (2/2)

"You're exhausted honey. Go back to sleep."  (1/2)

"Can I hold your hand?"  (2/2)

“Is that my shirt?” (2/2)

"Come get me? I miss you."  (2/2)

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."  (2/2)

Smut:

"stop staring." / "i can't, you're so pretty like this" (2/2)

"Keep your pretty eyes on me."  (2/2)

"You're already wet sweetheart."  (2/2)

"What if someone hears us?"  (0/2)

"Let me hear you make that sound again."  (2/2)

"We shouldn't be doing this."  (1/2)

Characters: (spice it up by adding an au in the ask 🤍)

Bucky Barnes 

Marc Spector / Stephen Grant

Miguel O’Hara

If you don’t see who you’d like me to write for, just ask me about them and I’ll let you know if I’m open to writing for them!

Just have fun with this one and follow the rules below! I'm not really making a theme or anything like that, but if you'd like a prompt from me, just ask and specify what kind of prompt! Also feel free to DM me and bounce around some ideas if you need to!

Rules: 

Use the 'read more' option if what you write is over 500 words. 

Properly list your warnings. 

Your story does not have to contain smut if you don't want it to. 

Dark stories are okay, just no non-con, scat, underage characters involved in sexual activity, DD/LG, bestiality, necrophilia, etc. 

Please use characters that I know, from fandoms I'm in. (If you aren't sure what all is on that list, because I don't post about all of them, just ask!)

Tag me! And use the tag #remisneonparty

Make sure it can be read as a stand alone piece. 

The cut off for this will be the last day of August. I sometimes take forever to write something and want to give you all ample time to submit your stories!

Moodboard and all dividers were made by me, but feel free to use them if you’d like 🤍

Tagging some friends (no pressure!)

@sweetdreamsbuck @shamevillain @pocolatte @perdidosbucky-yyo @treatbuckywkisses @foreverindreamlandd @historygeekfics @barnesafterglow @navybrat817​ @jessybarnes​ @buckysdior​ @honeybloomss​ @banana-cheese-cake​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @sidepartskinnyjeans​ @real-jane​ @archive-obsess​ @mutual-monsters​ @bucksangel​ @thepsychewrites​ @starchildbucky​ @nexusnyx​ @lofaewrites​ @thornsnvultures​ @aquariusbarnes​ @captainsimagines​ @writing-for-marvel​ @heavenlybarnes​ @matchamunson​ @buckybleu​ @boxofbonesfic​ @chloelucia13​ @snugglingbucky​

[littlexscarletxwitch]

hii! can i request a florence pugh x reader where florence has a nightmare and reader comforts her? thanks!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, comfort fic, flo has a nightmare a r is really sweet to her, billie is here too lol, established relationship, flo's baby, she needs lots of love

warning(s): nightmare (?), allusions to r dying but not really, crying flo (🥺), grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 0.8k

note: Was this supposed to be the Wandanat fic? Yes. But fuck it, it's my blog, I decide what to post. Lol jk. The thing is I was going through a writers block and this request got me out of it, so thank you, nonnie. I loved this idea so much, I hope it's somehow what you had in mind. And I'm sorry it's kinda short. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

You felt her turning around in her sleep, there was something about her unstillnes that unsettled you.

Florence always moved around in her sleep, sometimes she would bring you into her chest, seeking the warmness and comfort of your body next to hers. Sometimes she would take the sheets from you, leaving you to freeze in the cold night. But this time it was different, something was troubling her in her sleep.

“Flossie?” you whispered in the darkness, gently shaking her awake.

She kept on tossing around, shaking her head in her sleep as if not wanting to look at whatever her brain was picturing in her mind. Her brows were furrowed, her breathing was uneven and she was mumbling incoherent words. You began to panic, she was having a nightmare.

“Flossie, wake up,” you tried again, this time shaking her a bit harder.

“No, no, no,” she kept on mumbling and soon it became sobs.

“Baby, you need to wake up,” you tried once again.

As you turned on the light on your nightable you noticed that her lips were trembling, a thin layer of sweat was covering her forehead, and you could already see the tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Florence, baby, wake up!”

Billie who was sleeping at your feet was now sitting right beside you. It was af if she could feel your worry and Florence’s fear.

“It’s okay, Billie dear. Momma is having a bad dream,” you reassured the dog. “Florence, wake up!”

The dog started barking beside you, also wanting to get her human’s attention. And as if on cue Florence jumped awake, her right hand clutching onto her fast-beating heart.

It took her a full minute to realise what she had experienced was just a dream, a really bad dream that her mind had created for some twisted reason she had yet to understand. She sighed in relief as she realised that the whole thing was a product of her imagination.

“Flossie, baby, are you okay?” you whispered, not wanting to scare her even more.

“Oh, Y/n,” the moment her eyes landed on your soft ones she felt as if she could finally breathe properly, the oxygen filling her lungs and reaching out to her brain, letting her know the both of you were okay.

She practically threw herself at you, engulfing you in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go, ever.

“I was so scared, Y/n,” she said in your ear. “You… you…,” she couldn’t find the strength to finish her sentence, not wanting to let her thoughts out in the world. “And then I… I was just…”

“It’s okay, Flossie. It’s okay, I’m here, we are here, and we are okay,” you reassured her, caressing her hair, trying to comfort her.

“It was so bad, Y/n. I don’t know what I would do without you, I don’t…,” you could feel her teardrops staining your shirt, it broke your heart seeing her like this.

Against your wishes, you pulled her away from you. Your hands gently cupped her cheeks forcing her to look at you. Her eyes were a bit swollen from the crying, a soft red hue around them making them look like bright emeralds.

“Hey,” you whispered, trying to be as gentle as you could, offering her a smile.

One of your hands reached out to one of hers and placed them on top of your beating heart.

“You feel that?” she only nodded, as if getting lost in the rhythm of your heartbeat. “I’m alright, I’m here, we are here and everything will be alright. I promise,” you placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

She leaned into you, resting her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat, feeling her body finally relax into your arms. But not enough to drift off to sleep again.

“I don’t think I will be able to go back to sleep,” she confessed.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to,” she looked up at you and you smiled at her. “Why don’t I make us some Yorkshire tea and watch a film?”

“I love Yorkshire,” she giggled.

“Yeah, I know you do,” you kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll be right back,” you tried to get up from the bed but she wouldn’t let you.

“Don’t leave me alone, please,” she pouted, her eyes getting watery in a second.

“It’s okay, Flo. Come with me, you are the expert on making tea after all,” you joked.

“Yeah, you have a point,” she smiled at you, blinking her tears away, and you could feel your heart getting warmer at the simple action.

“Oh, we should totally watch ‘Little Women’.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at you, “You only like that one because I’m in it.”

“Pff, don’t flatter yourself. Timothée Chalamet is in it, that’s why I like it;” you teased her, knowing that it would hit a nerve.

“You did not just say that,” she looked at you in disbelief.

“It’s a shame you got to kiss him really,” you sighed in fake discontent.

“Y/n!” you heard her said before getting hit by a pillow, giggles filing the room soon after.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[softpine]

"God carved something out of my chest. Maybe he hid it in some corner of the universe and I’m supposed to find it somehow" y'all mind if I just 😭😭😭 I love Finn his story is so heartbreaking I'm glad he has Asa or that they have eachother. The idea of them always finding eachother, that they know something is missing is so beautiful. Do you ever just cry at your own writing? You've written some really beautiful stuff

thank you so much 🥺 i don't think i'm a very technically good writer, so my goal has never been to write the most eloquent prose, but i like to think i'm good at capturing emotions. at the very least, it makes ME feel something jfkjsds but i don't usually get emotional about my own story until i'm seeing the final product. there's so much time and effort that leads up to each scene, with the writing, scene setting, pose making / posing, taking screenshots, editing, etc. that it's kind of impossible to immerse myself. but when i read through the final scene, i can take the time to really feel it for what it is.

i think i've only cried (like actual tears) once that i can remember...? it was this scene, because i listened to do not let your spirit wane on repeat long enough for it to STILL be my most listened to song on spotify. so... i was really feeling my emotions that day lmao. sometimes i'll just be sitting around doing nothing and finn's face in this scene pops into my brain and i'm like 🥹 and asa running like that sjfkjsd it's a top 10 post for me

[lokiinmediasideblog]

I Intentionally Start Shit in the Loki Tag

If you complain about Sylvie being "harmful queer rep" BUT want "Lady Loki" in the MCU, which was Loki possessing Sif's body just to torment Sif, I need you to sit down and shut up. a. Genderfluid people don't go by "Lady " when they're femme or women. b. If you don't see the transphobic dogwhistles in the comics possession subplot, I don't know what to tell you... But let's say that hag that wrote those crappy books would love it. c. If you weren't aware about this, maybe you should read the wiki at least before giving uninformed opinions.

I definitely agree that they should not have led people on with the promise of genderfluid rep during the promotion of the series. But get mad at Disney/Marvel for that. Not at the writers or Sophia Di Martino that had to cave in to Feige's demands. That's literally what they have to do.

I really don't give a damn about the "autogynephilia" allegations, which again, is ALSO PRESENT IN CIS WOMEN. Like why the fuck should I care about someone finding themselves hot? There's fascists out there. AGP even if it was a trans-specific thing harms no one. The only harm said to come from it is DUE TO FASCISM because it plays into RESPECTABILITY POLITICS.

If you use AI to create a "proper" Lady Loki or love interest for Loki, you can't complain about the blatant product placement in S2. I am not a fan of product placement either and won't defend it, but those are the rules. Show some integrity. And before you ask, I have not given a cent to Disney since they pissed me off with attempts to trademark Dia de los Muertos for Coco.

If you complain about how being a "Loki" is not a role (unlike Spiderman) and how it should have been all 100% Tom Hiddleston, you don't get to call it selfcest as a gotcha, because you're already differentiating between the variants with different DNA. Like do y'all hate selfcest or not? Make up your mind. The series treats a Loki as an archetype of sorts, so it can be a role. Also, having the same name does not make you related because we don't know what Sylvie's parents are? And we don't even know if Sylvie is also a Jotun, a prop claims she isn't.

If you say you want Sylvie dead but claim to not be misogynistic, because you'd love if a specific love interest from the comics or mythology replaced her, STFU. You only like those because you can project whatever the fuck you want onto them.

If you claim Sylvie is a misogynistic depiction of women but salivate over characters written by cishet white men in the 1960s-1980s that made wanting to fuck Thor or being in a monogamous marriage with Loki their entire personality (there's so MANY OF THESE), STFU. Do you hear yourself? And no, it's not misogynistic of me, a woman, to criticize offensive depictions of women by cishet white men. They're not real.

Our MCU!Loki is not the young adult Ikol reincarnation currently. Of course 20-something Verity is not going to be there! The Loki show should be praise for having multiple female cast members around the same age as the protagonist and pragmatic clothing choices that allowed SdM to nurse her baby.

Selfcest isn't real and I cry tears of boredom whenever someone clutches their pearls over it.

The comics aren't perfect. As much as I loved the recent Dan Watters run (and German Peralta's art), the comics art has some very questionable tendencies, especially regarding Loki's nose when she's femme. It's associated with how some kinds of facial features are considered masculine or feminine (and racialized). Noses have no gender, ffs! Women with nose bumps exist! For some reason Loki always has a tiny button nose when she's a woman or femme. There's also the BLATANT physiognomy that has ALWAYS PLAGUED Thor comics since their inception, and Loki's facial features as they've become more "grey" and less evil is an interesting study. Peralta's far from being the only artist with this problem, and is far from being the most problematic. For comparison from Loki (2023) run:

Loki from ye olden days:

[firenati0n]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you to @alasse9 @anchoredarchangel @myheartalivewrites @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise

@tailsbeth-writes @cha-melodius @ninzied for the tags! i am so so so behind on all tags and questions and asks and i am sorry for the delay!! <3 thank you for your patience :)

How many works do you have on ao3?

7 under my name, 1 anonymously

What's your total ao3 word count?

32,316

What fandoms do you write for?

rwrb :)

Top five fics by kudos:

An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat (5,094 words)

our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) (2,970 words)

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless (5,422 words)

each time we touch / i wanna take too much (1,339 words)

who truly stuck the knife in first (3,697 words)

Do you respond to comments?

yes! i haven't replied to any on angel fic yet bc they make me cry LMAOOOO but i will get to them soon :) comments mean everything to me. receiving any is a privilege. connection is so lovely.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i would say who truly stuck the knife in first but it's not angsty, just open-ended. they're spies, so happiness for them at the moment is fleeting lol.

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

i always write happy endings but i think and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life aka the angel!henry fic is the sappiest. it's so sappy I'm giving it a sequel for more sappy endings. it's the happiest ending because it also makes me cry.

Do you get hate on fics?

not yet, thankfully. people have been very nice and welcoming, which has been a real blessing.

Do you write smut?

no lol i got into my M game with who truly stuck the knife in first (sexually charged wrestling), keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface (prosey fade to black), and each time we touch / i wanna take too much (fingers in mouths) but i don't think I'll be writing smut anytime soon.

i could barely handle arms and legs in spy fic (@cha-melodius knows how terribly i struggled jfalksdjflkjasdlkf). how the fuck am I supposed to factor dicks into the equation????

Craziest crossover:

none yet but i am cooking up a sci-fi thriller au that may never see the light of day based on Dark Matter by Blake Crouch but no promises jfalksjdlkfadsf

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of. I've had art and moodboards and a podfic but no translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i am writing one right now with [redacted] and it's going to be so fucking good y'all are not prepared for this AU fr

All time favorite ship?

firstprince forever. alex and henry are my babygirls. Close second is Sydney and Vaughn from Alias or Chuck and Sarah from Chuck.

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

i have a lot of docs with bullet points but typically if i start WRITING real words in a doc, i will be finishing it EVENTUALLY. it will either take me 4 months or 4 hours and there is no in between unfortunately, considering i write most of my fics between the hours of 2am - 7am in a fugue state. fatal flaw. all of my docs with actual snippets in them WILL be completed at some point. it's just going to take me. forever.

What are your writing strengths?

i hate perceiving shit like this bc i always think i sound like I'm blowing smoke up my own ass lmaoooo so I'll go with dialogue. i like the dialogue i write.

@anincompletelist also told me that I can "curate a VIBE and TONE like nobody’s BUSINESS" which is extremely kind (ily) and i think i agree. I do like experimenting with tone and atmosphere. I have been playing with genre and expression with each fic and i like what I've done so far.

i also just love a silly goose time fr ok i love my fun fics like amateur's guide and worm fic and actor au. they make me laugh.

What are your writing weaknesses?

i struggle to plot things out bc i get so caught up in dialogue and snippets of things i actually want to write LOL so weaving the snips together is always a pain for me. i am also a perfectionist so it takes me way longer to get over my mental hurdles and put words on the page. i also struggle to write angst sometimes like angst does not come as naturally to me as zippy banter. neither does prose. i have to work at those.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

love!!! i find it so beautiful.

First fandom you wrote in?

i do not count the 1d fanfic i wrote in my notes app as a mentally ill thirteen year old as actual writing, so let's go with RWRB :)

Favorite fic you've written?

and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life. it's my most personal and a fic I used as a coping mechanism to get through some yucky times. i also like the emotional beats in that one a lot. it is my least read / least popular but my favorite.

no pressure and open tags under the cut <3

@wordsofhoneydew @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @magicandarchery

@getmehighonmagic @indestructibleheart @14carrotghoul @onward--upward @sparklepocalypse

@porcelainmortal @nontoxic-writes @piratefalls @dumbpeachjuice @clottedcreamfudge

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @orchidscript @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @smc-27 @everwitch-magiks

@kiwiana-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @ships-to-sail @rmd-writes @welcometololaland