#once again PLEASE reblog and send in more prompts to see more chapters

[stiltonbasket]

For wen!wwx: "I may have made a mistake in taking you to Nightless City, A-Ying" were the last words Wen-shushu had spoken to him, a little more than a fortnight after he was slain in battle. Contrary to popular belief, it was Wen Zhuliu who saved A-Ying and took him to Nightless City. Wen Rouhan raised him to be a weapon, but Wen Zhuliu raised him as a son.

(link to part 1)

By the winter Wei Wuxian turned thirty-six, Qishan Wen had been at war for two years; but in those two years, very little had changed behind the walls of the Nightless City.

The wine ran as freely as it always did, and even the lowest-ranking guest disciples were allotted more treasures and fine foods than most well-to-do commoners would see in a year. The rare few of the clan who had spent time in the halls of the mortal emperor—Wei Wuxian among them, for his master wanted the emperor to know something of the raw power that lurked in Qishan, in case he ever thought of claiming even an inch of Wen territory for his own—were aware Wen Ruohan's sect banquets were far richer than anything the imperial court had to offer: and even if the war were to last another decade, the cities clustered around the great Sun Palace in Bu Ye Tian would flow with gold for ten times that span at the least.

Strength counted for much in the Jianghu, and for a great deal more outside it—and Wen Ruohan treasured the cultivators who labored for him as he treasured his own saber, so long as their younger selves had proved loyal enough to be permitted to reach adulthood.

Of the four children Wen Zhuliu brought back to Bu Ye Tian some thirty-odd years ago, only one had achieved that honor: the youngest, Wei Ying, plucked from the streets in upper Yiling some months before his fifth birthday.

He had grown up well, Wen Zhuliu thought, as he watched Wei Wuxian move across the banquet hall with a double-eared wine cup in his hand. The handmaidens at the Wei-fu had braided his hair with gold, so that the full, shining mass of it reflected the light from the lamps on the walls like a mirror; and though Wen Ruohan recalled him from Langya nearly six months ago now, he had not yet lost the watchful bearing of a general waiting under cover of darkness for his enemy to strike.

"Zhao-shushu," he said, toasting him with his half-empty cup of wine as Wen Zhuliu drew closer. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since..."

"It's been nearly a year, I think," Wen Zhuliu replied, inclining his head. "When we were stationed together in Jiangling."

A shadow crossed Wei Wuxian's face; and too late, Wen Zhuliu remembered that Jiangling was where his erstwhile ward bore witness to the execution of Yu Hengshan, in spite of Wen Zhuliu's best efforts to ensure that he was occupied elsewhere at the hour of Yu Hengshan's death.

He was absurdly soft-hearted for a man who had spent the last two years between war fronts and Wen Ruohan's great strategy chamber, and it discomfited Wen Zhuliu immensely.

"How is A-Yuan?" he said softly, for Wei Wuxian's yang son was one of the few subjects they could speak of without stirring the dreadful shuttered look in Wei Wuxian's eyes—though that had been present in some form or other from the day he was sworn into Wen Ruohan's service, and would likely never leave him throughout the remainder of his life.

"He is well," Wei Wuxian answered, nodding towards the artificial stream carved into the ground of the garden adjoining the feasting hall. Wen Zhuliu turned and saw a gaggle of youths and young girls kneeling by the water's edge, scribbling verses of poetry onto plain white lanterns; and then, following the line of his ward's outstretched hand, he saw that the boy at the front of the group looked like a smaller, light-hearted version of Wei Ying.

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen." Wei Wuxian's hand tightened around the base of his cup. "He's nearly old enough to wear a proper guan, if you can believe it."

Ah, Wen Zhuliu realized, with no small amount of pity—for if the war did not end within these next two years, Wen Yuan would be among the new soldiers sent to war, perhaps as part of his own father's regiment.

He reached out and grasped Wei Wuxian's arm.

"A-Ying," he said urgently. "This war will not last long enough to draw your A-Yuan into it. You know Lanling Jin cannot endure for much longer, what with Meng Yao—and once Lanling falls, Yunmeng will crumble soon after. Yu Hengshan was Yunmeng Jiang's greatest backer, and now that he has been slain—"

"Yes, but what then?"

Wen Zhuliu paused, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Once the Jianghu has been brought under our colors, what then?" Wei Wuxian murmured, before taking a long drink of wine. "The Jin might live peacefully under Junshang's rule—they will have no choice, for they are not strong enough to do otherwise—but the Jiang will abandon their clan seat if needs must, and flee to rebuild elsewhere. And once they rise to prominence again, what will our lord do next?"

And what will you do? his eyes seemed to say; and though Wen Zhuliu had vowed to murder Yu Hengshan when he was a child of sixteen, his ears were suddenly filled with the screams of the civilian woman who had discovered the man's decapitated corpse in a rowboat on Lake Lianhua.

He had not lingered long enough to listen to the screams of Yu Hengshan's sister, for fear that his heart would break at the knowledge that Yu Ziyuan grieved this brother of hers despite all he had done to them both—but now, the echoes of her cries were so clear in his mind that he was half-convinced he had heard them in truth, all those months ago.

"I will do whatever Wen-zongzhu commands me to do," Wen Zhuliu said at last. "I was sworn to him for life, just as you were."

In answer, the fingers of Wei Wuxian's right hand rose and fluttered restlessly over his shoulder: the left shoulder, where his wide collar hid the set of obedience sigils that Wen Ruohan carved into his flesh on the day he came of age.

"Yes," he whispered, his gaze straying once more to his son. "I am sworn to him for life—just as you are."

They parted not long after that, for Wen Zhuliu had only come back to the Nightless City for Wei Wuxian's birthday banquet, and he was due to return to Hejian early the next day. He had other generals to greet, and Wei Wuxian had gone off to judge the results of the winding-stream contest taking place in the garden; but shortly before dawn, Wen Zhuliu sought Wei Wuxian out once again and drew the younger man into his arms.

"Happy birthday," he said. "May you have ten lifetimes' worth of them, my child."

Wei Wuxian smiled tearfully—and suddenly, Wen Zhuliu was certain that after tonight, he would never lay eyes on this ward of his again.

"I wish it had not been like this," he blurted. "If I had not brought you back to the Nightless City all those years ago, then perhaps..."

Wei Wuxian's eyes flickered toward the throne at the front of the hall.

"What other purpose could I have served than this one?" he said quietly. "You had your revenge, and I was given the honor of serving Junshang. That is the end of it."

And with that, he kissed Wen Zhuliu on the brow, and vanished into the night.

Wen Zhuliu never did see him again, for he met his death on the Hejian front within the next fortnight; and when his jian was brought back to the Bu Ye Tian, it was sent to Wei Wuxian's residence, the High General's manor, where it would remain until the Wei-fu went up in flames with its master still locked inside it.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #my fic #wrh raises wwx au #wen zhuliu #wei wuxian #once again PLEASE reblog and send in more prompts to see more chapters #no prompts = no updates ;-;

[flufftober]

🍂 🍃 Hello and welcome to our third annual Flufftober 🍂 🍃

We’re so excited to be back and to once again have you here!

As always, let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰 and for that to happen, we not only have 31 prompts for you, no; we also have something special this year...

Prompt Extras

Last year's Prompt Substitutes were very well-loved and a lot of you used them to replace some prompts from the original list. You're more than welcome to do this again if there's a prompt that doesn't work for you for whatever reason - no explanation needed.

Once again, we offer you last year's top five fan favorites (as voted in the end survey). In addition to that, we also offer five scenario prompts.

If you don't want to replace any prompt from the original list but still love the additional ones - or you simply want to challenge yourself - you can also mix them all together!

So in whichever way you use these Prompt Extras, have fun with them and go wild 💚

Below the cut you'll find all our rules, posting info, all the prompts in writing, as well as some explanation for prompts we feel might need clarification. If you have any more questions, please feel free to send us an ask 🥰

We hope you like these prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

Standard Blog Rules & FAQ

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged. See further down for clarification.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gifsets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…)

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉

You can start writing and/or arting as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

You can replace prompts from the original list with either or all of our prompt extras; you can also mix them with the original prompts or create for them in addition to the 31 original prompts, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts as long as it’s separated into chapters and the respective chapter/work is posted on the given day.

You do not have to stick to one ship or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Since this has often been asked in previous years, please let us clarify the no inc*st or p*dophilia rule:

No inc*st: This rule does not apply to distant cousins and such, as you might find in the LotR fandom (or basically in all of European Monarchy). The line we draw is at direct blood relations (siblings, parents, kids) and/or legal guardianship.

No p*dophilia: This rule does not rule out fandoms that feature teenagers such as Harry Potter, Heartstoppers, Hunger Games, etc. It also doesn't mean you can't write about their time together as teenagers! It was mostly aimed at ships in which one is a minor and the other is not - but since even that got complicated over time, the rule is now this: if you keep it SFW, all is good and allowed, we don't care; if it turns NSFW, be mindful of the legalaties of the world/society/times your characters live in.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2023

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also add @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2023 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt extra tag it as #alt [number]

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection flufftober2023 or flufftober_2023 (yes, we've once again claimed both)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like always, reblogs will become less regular the more months have passed...

Prompts (and explanations)

1. “I’ve got you”

2. Family, Friends, Loved Ones

3. “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

4. Cinderella Moment (the "ugly duckling" gets their moment to shine)

5. x + 1 (can be a classic "5+1 things" [or any number you want] creation or literally a plus one for an event or really anything else you can think of)

6. Corn Maze

7. Porch Swing

8. Rainy Day

9. (...) at first sight (think "love at first sight", "enemies at first sight"...)

10. Love of my Life (even this does not have to be romantic 😉)

11. Sweet Tooth

12. Fire & Ice

13. Wrong (...) (think "wrong number", "wrong train", "wrong person"...)

14. “I hate it” - “No, you don't”

15. Emergency, Confession, Adventure

16. Singing one another to sleep

17. Encouraging someone to achieve a goal

18. “Did you plan for this to happen?”

19. Keeping someone safe

20. Pumpkin

21. Swoon

22. Picking (think "picking flowers", "picking up someone", "picking out a dress", "picking a song for the wedding"...)

23. Trinket

24. [melting emoji] (does anyone even know what this emoji stands for? No? We neither but we would love for you to get creative with it 😉 but also, think "melting in the heat", "melting from embarrassment"... also, I would've loved to add it here but tumblr doesn't have this emoji yet)

25. Nook

26. Fireplace

27. Outdoor Event (think "hiking tour", "concert", "picnic"...)

28. Soothing Touch

29. “Hey, wake up!”

30. Self-Worth / Self-Love

31. Dreams Do Come True

Prompt Extras

Last Year's Favorites

Alt 1: Hot Chocolate

Alt 2: “You’ve told your parents?”

Alt 3: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes

Alt 4: Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

Alt 5: “Oh no, you’re a Morning Person!”

Scenarios

Alt 6: Reverse all the Roles

Alt 7: Create a Fairytale Retelling

Alt 8: Give your character a new occupation

Alt 9: Create a crossover of two or more fandoms

Alt 10: Have your characters share the last table at a café

#flufftober2023 #flufftober #event #prompt event #prompts #prompt challenge #fluff prompts #writing event #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #art #arting #open to all fandoms #open to anyone #open to all content creators #open to crossovers #writing challenge #art challenge #art event #feel free to spread the word #feel free to reblog

[she-is-juniper]

Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader series (chapter one)

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Reader

Type: series (chapter 1 / ?)

Warnings: fluff, some angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn

Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work...and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are?

Word Count (by chapter): 5K 

Rating (by chapter): M (mature)

A/N: This is the first chapter of my new series, Only Ones Who Know! ♡ It’ll be a slow burn but I hope you’ll stick around for the payoff!

I wrote this fic visualizing Austin!Elvis, but you could also read it with real!Elvis as well if you prefer. The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956 (sources are here).

I’m really excited for this one! So please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance!

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

July 4th, 1956 

On a sleepy, sweltering hot July afternoon on the east side of Memphis, the newly-crowned King of Rock and Roll sauntered in the doors of the diner where I was working.

I was refilling a customer’s mug of coffee when I saw him walk in, and I didn’t realize I had overfilled it until the man exclaimed and jumped up from the table.

“Sorry, sir,” I said, frazzled, and hurried to soak up the overflow of coffee from the table with a handful of napkins. My knees threatened to give out as I snuck another glance at the newcomer at the door. It was him. It was really him. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Arguably the most famous—and most controversial—musician in the world right then.

My childhood best friend. The boy I hadn’t seen in eight years. My first kiss. 

Elvis surveyed the room full of open diner seats with curious eyes, finally settling on a booth by the windows. He slid into the seat, continuing to scan the restaurant, until he met my gaze, and the world stopped—for me, at least. For him, though…there was no change to his face, no spark of recognition in his blue eyes. Simply a raise of the chin: an acknowledgement for waitressing service.

And it was in that moment that I realized that Elvis Presley had no idea who I was. 

I rushed to finish cleaning the customer’s table. I felt Elvis’ eyes boring into the back of my head, waiting for me to come over there to take his order, and I cursed inwardly when I realized no one else was working today who could take his order instead. It was only me. 

I could hide in the kitchen, I thought. But the route to the kitchen was right in his line of sight. There was a table toward the back that I hadn’t wiped down yet, I realized, so I avoided the musician’s gaze and took my sweet time spraying and wiping down the table.

A whistle got my attention. Elvis Presley was flagging me down. “What’s a man gotta do for a hot meal at this restaurant?” he said, flashing his white teeth at me.

My heart leapt into my throat. There was simply no way around it. I would have to go over there.

I took a steadying breath and pretended to busy myself in my order pad as I made my way over to the singer. Would he remember me at last once I was closer? 

“Sorry for the wait, sir,” I quavered once I reached his booth. It took everything in my might for me to pry my eyes from my order pad and meet his eyes again. But I finally did.

Elvis Presley, there, in the flesh. With his clean suit and styled black hair, he looked like a movie star and exuded a larger-than-life aura. My cheeks felt hot as he gazed up at me with his familiar icy eyes and smiled warmly.

But not a glimmer of recognition. 

“Was starting to think you folks might be closed here on the Fourth of July,” he drawled, “‘til I saw that other man sitting over there, the one you spilled coffee all over.”

His voice—his genuine voice, not distorted through my car radio, or through the tiny speakers of my television set—was exactly as I remembered it, albeit much lower in pitch. He was a man, now, after all. God, was he a man.

He leaned forward toward me expectantly, and I realized I had just been staring at him for far too long. I scrambled for any kind of intelligent response.

“We may be slow today, but we’re open,” I said as casually as possible while I handed him a menu.

“And that man’s coffee?” Elvis asked, smirking. 

“Oh, you know. It’s our Fourth of July special. Everyone gets, uh, a little extra coffee today.”

The singer laughed, and I chewed on my cheek, mentally praising myself for being able to come up with a joke like that while serving Elvis Presley. I was still reeling at the fact that he didn’t remember me. Beneath the overwhelming feeling of surprise that he’d serendipitously come into the diner where I worked, I felt a twinge of hurt. 

Who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t remember me. 

But I remembered him, vividly. Not the Elvis Presley whose crooning voice was currently sweeping the world’s radio stations with his latest single ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. Not the Elvis Presley who had just premiered on the Steve Allen Show a few days prior, wearing a ridiculous tuxedo and singing to a basset hound. 

I remembered the Elvis Presley who lived in Tulepo, Mississippi. The boy next door. 

The Presley family lived in the run-down house next to my family’s, almost a decade ago. Their only son Elvis and I essentially grew up together; he was like the brother I never had. A flash of memories came back to me…memories of running around the neighborhood with Elvis—all skin and bones back then—holding hands while we explored, because that was just what you did when you were kids. Our worn shoes perpetually dusty from the dirt roads. Our lives immersed in the sounds of rhythm and blues. For twelve years, long before he’d found fame as a musician, Elvis Presley was my best friend. 

And now, he didn’t remember me. 

If my face had contorted with the sudden onslaught of the memories, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Well, hon, forgive me if I order something other than the coffee, then,” he jested. Good natured as ever. 

“What’ll you have?” I asked.

“A Coke, for now,” he replied. He was…staring at me, now. An inquisitive smile spread across his face. “Do you…?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked.

“...Do you know who I am?” Elvis asked.

I gaped. Was he asking if I knew him?

Oh, that arrogant braggart.

“Do I know you?” I repeated with mock naivety. My initial shock reaction was burning into acerbity. “Hmm. Can’t say that I do.”

“That’s too bad,” Elvis remarked. He suddenly seemed as though he was infinitely more interested in me than before.

“Well?” I said haltingly. “Don’t you know me?”

Elvis’ flashed that irresistible grin. “Well, of course I do,” he said with complete seriousness. My heart stopped beating until he said, “You’re my waitress. And a pretty one, at that.”

My blood boiled—either with aggravation or with flattery, I wasn’t sure. It was at that moment that I recognized the unmistakable tension between our bodies, fueled by the flirtatious sparkle in his eyes. I hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time. Not since the last time I’d seen Elvis Presley, eight years ago.

“I’ll be back with your drink, then,” I bit out, but before I could turn away, he speaks again.

“What’s your name, darlin’? I don’t see a nametag on you.”

I touched my uniform where I usually pinned my nametag—the nametag I just so happened to have forgotten on my bathroom counter this morning of all mornings. My name.

This would be it…the moment he realized who I was.

“My name?” I repeated.

He just looked at me expectantly. 

I gazed back for too long, praying for him to realize. I wanted to tell him, so badly. But even more, I wanted him to remember. I didn’t know what to do. But before I could decide, a voice thundered from the kitchen.

“Order up! Missy, where you at?” Ray, the diner’s grumpy head cook, tapped the order bell three times and scowled at me through the kitchen window. “Cut the gas and get back to work,” he barked. 

“So, ‘Missy’?” Elvis asked. 

I blinked. “Missy” was Ray’s nickname for every waitress at the diner, and not exactly a term of endearment seeing as he only said it when he was impatient with us. But Elvis didn’t need to know that.

“You can call me ‘Missy’ if you want,” I responded at last, the coyness in my voice easily mistaken for coquetry. Sure enough, Elvis’ face lit up like a light. 

“Missy,” he repeated. “I won’t keep you.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said and smiled tightly as I skirted off to the kitchen. 

I still couldn't believe my eyes. Elvis was here, really here. I shouldn’t have been surprised, seeing as he spent his teenage years in this city, and his parents still lived here. I had just moved to Memphis this year when I enrolled for the local women’s college, but I had yet to run into the newly-famous Elvis or his family. Until now.

He was so…different. So sure of himself, no longer the humble, awkward, shy, scrawny boy I’d once known. Perhaps that Elvis no longer existed. It had been almost eight years, I realized, since the last time I’d seen him in the flesh. Eight years since the Presleys loaded up their belongings in their 1939 Plymouth and left for Memphis.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday, although I’d spent the past eight years trying with all of my might to forget it. Trying to wish I could take back what I’d said on that day.

I had to remind myself that I, too, had changed. I had grown up, too. I probably looked completely different from the girl he knew from our modest Tulepo upbringing.

“How many times will I have to tell you to stop flirting with the customers?” Ray, the cook, grumbled as I grabbed a plate of food from the counter. 

“I’m not flirting with nobody, Ray,” I said lightly, checking the burger on the plate. “You forgot the mustard.”

Ray snatched the plate back to fix the order. “Who is that kid anyhow? He ain’t from around these parts, is he?” Ray huffed. 

“Not anymore,” I grumbled under my breath. But Ray was looking harder through the kitchen window toward where Elvis was seated. His eyes narrowed.

“That can’t be that clown from the Milton Berle show, can it? Vernon and Gladys’ son?” 

I said nothing, just took the plate from Ray and poured a glass of Coca-Cola from the fountain. Ray was huffing to himself as I exited the kitchen; I made out the words “those obscene hips” and “corrupting the youth.” Like most of the country, the citizens of Memphis were split between lauding the King of Rock and despising him; Ray, I understood then, was among those who thought the latter. It was as much of a shock to see “The New Elvis Presley” on Steve Allen wearing a tuxedo as it had been to see him thrusting his hips on Milton Berle a few months ago. Maybe his management was pushing for a new image in response to the public backlash. 

After delivering the hamburger to the man on whom I’d spilled coffee earlier, I returned to Elvis’ table with a pounding heart and gave him his drink.

“So, Missy,” Elvis drawled and took a drink. “You from around here?”

Hearing the strange nickname from his lips, directed at me, was like the nail on the coffin. I felt all at once hopeless and…well, curious. If he didn’t remember me, and yet he was flirting with me, how would this play out?

“I live here, in Memphis,” I told him.

“Truly?” Elvis toyed with the straw of his Coke between his teeth. “Never seen you around. I would have remembered a face like yours. You always lived here?”

This was becoming just unbearable. 

“No, I moved here for the women’s college, about a year ago.”

“Ah. A college girl,” he remarked. “Must be as smart as you are pretty.”

“What about you?” I asked, playing dumb. “Where are you from?”

“Where am I from, or where’d I come from?”

“Well, you seem like you wanna talk about both, so I guess both.”

Elvis tilted his head to the side and continued looking directly into my eyes. “Where I’m from, you’ve probably never heard of it,” he said. You’d be surprised, I thought sullenly. “But where I’ve just come from, you’ve definitely heard of it.” He leaned closer to me, gazing at me through his thick lashes, a playful glint in his eyes. “The Big Apple”.

“New York City?” I gasped. “How do you get here?”

“By train. Twenty-seven hours. Just got off.”

“Well, you must be starving then.” 

“Famished.”

I realized, despite how miffed I was about the whole situation, that I couldn’t resist from mirroring his smile and the way he leaned toward me while we talked. 

“What’ll you have?” I asked. Elvis ordered the special of the day—country fried steak with cream gravy.

“So, New York City, then? Must be some kind of big hot shot then, huh?” I mused while I took down his order. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging I knew who he was.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Elvis replied. “Just a boy come home to visit his mama.”

I thought about his mama. Back in Mississippi, Mrs. Presley used to always thump my head with a rolled-up newspaper for tracking my muddy feet through her kitchen. But she had a warmth about her, and she always cooked the best meals. I wondered if she would remember me, if she saw me now, or if—like her son—she wouldn’t recognize me at all anymore. When I first moved to Memphis, I used to think about going to visit her, but I never did. Never felt like it was my place to do so. The Presleys were the talk of the town now that their son was riding into stardom, and I was certain the last thing Mrs. Presley needed was another girl knocking on her door asking about her son.

“Actually, there’s another reason I’m here,” Elvis went on. 

“Oh?” I said. “Got a girl back at home for you, then?” I watched him carefully, curious to see his reaction. It did not disappoint; Elvis’ back stiffened ever so slightly.

“Naw,” he responded. “Well, not anymore.” He flashed his teeth at me again. “That’s not the reason, anyway.” 

“Pray tell, then.”

“Do you like rock n’ roll, Missy?”

I did. Like Elvis, I grew up immersed in rock n’ roll’s roots. Like him, the soul of the South’s music had been etched into my bones as I grew up.

When I nodded, Elvis reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a canary-colored ticket. He slid it across the table, and I picked it up to examine it. His name was printed elegantly across the top of the ticket—“Elvis Presley”. 

“There’s a concert going on at Russwood Park this evening,” Elvis said.

“You came twenty-seven hours on a train from New York just for a concert?”

“And to visit my mama, of course.” He smiled again. “It’s a benefit concert. Last I’d heard, there’s gonna be ten thousand people in the stadium. And thousands are already waiting in line.”

“Wow,” I said, and bit back a smirk as I traced his name in bold letters. “Must be some big name headliner, then, this ‘Elvis’ guy.”

I couldn’t tell if he knew or not that I was joshing him. “Some people seem to think so,” he said. But his eyes grew hardened. “Other people seem to think he’d be better off in jail.”

“Jail?”

“Jail.” Elvis sighed deeply. “He’s expected to put on a ‘family-friendly’ show tonight,” he said, “but he’s torn. I would imagine,” he added, still putting up a front. 

“Torn between what?”

“Between doing what he’s told, and doing what his heart says.”

“Well…” I made a bold move; I slid into the seat across from him and rested my chin on my hand. “You know what I say?“

He looked enraptured. “What say you, Missy?”

“When it comes to matters like this, this guy Elvis…I say, he’s gotta listen to his heart.”

Elvis’ smile grew like a flower blooming across his face. “That’s good advice,” he said. “Maybe you should tell him that some day.”

“Maybe you’ll tell him yourself, since you said you’d be there tonight,” I replied and batted my eyelashes, the pinnacle of naivety. 

“Maybe I will,” he affirmed with a laugh.

“Well, you better take your ticket back, then, sir,” I said, handing him back the ticket. “Wouldn’t wanna lose this.”

But Elvis didn’t reach for it. “That’s for you,” he said. “If you want it.”

“For me?”

“You said you like rock n’ roll, didn’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll like it,” he promises.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ll find me there.”

“I don’t get off work until 8,” I realized.

“That’s alright.” He smirked. “The last band probably won’t start until 8:30. That’s the one you’ll wanna see.”

I didn’t know what to say. “What if I can’t get in?” I asked at last. “You said there were already thousands of people in line.”

Elvis cocked an eyebrow and reached for the ticket in my hands. His hand brushed conspicuously against mine as he flipped it over. There was an official looking stamp on the other side that read, “V.I.P. Backstage”. 

“You’ll just show this to the usher,” Elvis said, his voice husky, his hand still touching mine. “And they’ll show you where to go. And if you run into any trouble, you just ask for a Colonel Tom Parker. Got it, darlin’?”

I was, for lack of a better word, dazzled. “Okay,” I quavered.

Elvis seemed enraptured by my sudden befuddlement. He took my hand and folded my fingers around the ticket. And he smiled—that same smile I knew from before, that smile I could never forget. 

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Attending an outdoor concert with ten thousand other people in the heat of the Tennessee summer was not exactly my idea of a good time.

But there I was, walking up to the entrance of Russwood Park, clutching the V.I.P. ticket Elvis Presley had gifted me as if it contained my very soul. I could still scarcely believe I had run into him at the diner, and I still had yet to process everything that had happened. It felt as though I were existing in a dream, or some other state of unreality. I had taken the bus from the east side to downtown Memphis, in a daze the whole time. 

When I finally reached the gates, the stadium ushers gawked at my ticket. After much debate amongst each other and after calling a manager, they were able to authenticate the stamp on the back of my ticket. As I was led through the crowd, surpassing the long line of disappointed-looking girls who would be inevitably sitting in the very back of the stadium at this point, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

The other performers had already finished their sets. The only group left to perform was Elvis Presley’s.

Once we descended the stadium stairs and reached the floor level, the stadium usher traded me off with my own personal security guard. I raced to keep up with his huge strides. We shuffled through the crowd, which only grew denser as we neared the stage. There was a buzzing tension reverberating through the audience; it was almost time for the concert to start. Each concertgoer on the floor level had their own seat, but I knew from the rumors about Elvis Presley’s other shows that these seats would become all but obsolete the second he emerged on the stage.

All eyes seemed to be on me with envy as soon as the guard and I reached the stage, which was massive and must have taken hours if not days to construct in the center of the baseball field. He led me around to the side of it, where a small set of stairs led up to the grassy area behind the towering stage set. The security guard instructed me where to stand and left me there to my own devices. 

It was a zoo. Stagehands and roadies, sweat dripping down their faces, scuttled about the backstage area, making last-minute adjustments to all kinds of cords and props. I spotted a group of musicians tuning their instruments, wearing suits and bowties—his backing band.

And then I saw him.

He stood with his back to me at the very back edge of the stage. He had changed into all-black attire that suited the color of his greased hair. that fit his body perfectly. His hands, I noticed, were clasped in front of him. He wasn’t moving, save for a nervous bounce of his left leg. I knew exactly why he was nervous tonight.

I moved a bit closer, circling so I could see his profile better. And I saw that his eyes were closed and his lips were moving ever so slightly. 

He was praying. 

Just as soon as I had caught him in the midst of this reverent moment, he had finished. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the orange evening sky. 

Everything happened fast after that. He sauntered to his bandmates and clapped their backs with a nervous smile. I slinked back into the shadows, suddenly anxious about him spotting me. And then the stagehands were leading the boys to the side of the stage, where the stage lights had been dimmed down and thousands of people were already cheering. I trailed behind the line of musicians, shocked beyond belief when I saw the vantage point I would have for this concert. The sea of people looked unreal from up on the stage. 

A blinding spotlight shone down on Elvis as he emerged from the stage. The sound that erupted from the audience was deafening.  

He hadn’t even played yet, and already it was pandemonium among the crowd. I watched helplessly—and with gratitude for my V.I.P. access—as dozens and then hundreds of fans broke from their seats. In a tidal wave, they swept to the stage, screaming and crying. Security manning the barricades struggled to keep the girls from climbing over. 

Elvis reached the microphone. He looked incredible—and I noticed for the first time, under the stage lights, that he was wearing splashes of red with his black suit. A red tie and red socks. Elvis’ voice boomed through the microphone as he greeted the crowd and asked them politely to return to their seats. I wouldn’t have been able to tell he was nervous if not for the tell of his bouncing leg.

But that leg did not stop bouncing. It only intensified.

“You know those people in New York aren’t going to change me none,” Elvis crooned to the screaming crowd. He regarded them heartily, his blue eyes sweeping through each and every person. And then his voice became powerful, wrought with passion. “I'm going to show you what the real Elvis is like tonight.”

He lifted a single finger and wiggled it. The crowd went beserk.

He launched into ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’ The bounce of his leg spread through his body as though he were possessed, but that was what everyone was here to see. I saw girls crying, raking their hands down their faces, trying to fling their bodies over the stage barricades. And he was a fireball of energy. I’d never seen anything like him, and I couldn’t believe this was the same Elvis I’d played street games with as kids.

The concert was a whirlwind. Song after song, Elvis’ hips swiveled dangerously with the rhythm. It was directly in contrast to the squareness of his television debut of “The New Elvis” that had premiered only a few days earlier on the Steve Allen show. No more white tail, no more singing to basset hounds. This was something different entirely, and he knew it. He wielded a strange power over his audience, like a magician casting a trance. 

I wanted to see more. The stage view was phenomenal in its own rite, but I couldn’t see his face. I wanted to—needed to—see his face. And part of me longed for him to see mine. 

My eyes caught a small space in the crowd right next to the stairs I’d come up to come backstage. The rush of the crowd in the initial excitement left a hole in the sea of people that hadn’t yet been filled again. I decided to go for it. I stepped down the sidestage stairs and was immediately enveloped by the crowd. No one seemed to notice; all eyes were locked on the King. 

As Elvis belted out hit after hit— 'I Want You, I Need You, I Love You', 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Long Tall Sally'—I worked myself closer and closer to the front of the stage I felt, yet again, as though I were in a dream. A part of me knew how absolutely foolish—and dangerous—it was to leave the comfort of my backstage access. A bigger part of me didn’t care. The energy of the crowd seemed to permeate Elvis’ very bones. He was a firestorm, and I was enraptured by him. I was a fish on a line, tethered to him, and he reeled me in closer and closer. 

By the time they’d reached their last song, ‘Hound Dog’, I was right in front of the stage.

Elvis towered over me as he sang. I could see the sweat glisten off his handsome face, dripping off his unruly greased hair. People slammed into me from behind, but I couldn’t care less. I felt drunk with the sight of him, a god amongst men. A god who used to be my friend.

Elvis fell to his knees on the stage. Hands reached out to touch him. He leaned into the crowd—suddenly grasping the face of a girl standing a few people away from me. Her mouth was open in astonishment as he leaned in and smiled, just almost brushing his lips against hers but not quite. And then it was the next girl. And the next.

And then it was me. 

Still singing in that sultry voice, Elvis’ gripped my chin with his hand like he’d done the others and his eyes locked on mine. And he froze, recognizing me all at once. It was only for half a second, but he’d stopped singing. His expression completely changed. He blinked, hesitating. 

I just smiled up at him.

He tightened his grip on my face and kissed me.

His mouth tasted like sweat and an unmistakable sweetness. My knees threatened to give out; he could have held me up with just his hand on my chin. This was not just a light brush of his lips on mine, like it was for the other girls. This was a kiss, several seconds long, in front of the whole world. I melted into him. And as he pulled away, his prolonged gaze indicated clearly to me that if he had his way, he’d want to do much, much more than that. 

It was our second kiss.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

I don’t know how, but I somehow made it backstage again as soon as the concert was over. I was still reeling from the kiss when I spotted him. He was being escorted by men in security uniforms through the bustle of stagehands. “You were warned, boy,” one of them growled at Elvis, but he was grinning like a naughty child. 

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” he said.

“Get in the car, Mr. Presley.”

But then Elvis spotted me. “Hold on just one second, boys,” Elvis said. He broke away and ran up to me. My heart hammered. 

“Hey, Missy,” he said, calling me that stupid nickname again. “You made it.” He was absolutely drenched in sweat like he’d jumped in the Mississippi River. He was a mess, but he never looked better. 

“Looks like that Elvis Presley really followed his heart tonight,” I grinned.

He smiled so big. “He got some advice from a real smart girl.”

We didn’t speak for a few moments, just gazing at each other and smiling, soaking each other in. I thought about our kiss in the crowd, thought about how much trouble he was about to be in for that performance. Thought about how his features still resembled the Elvis I used to know.

“Why were you in the crowd instead of up here?” he asked.

“I wanted to see your face while you sang,” I admitted in a rush.

He laughed, perplexed, still panting with the exertion of his performance. “I'm so glad you made it.” I thought he would be absolutely exhausted immediately after the show, but his eyes were slight with an infectious fire. He couldn’t take them off of me, and I couldn’t rip mine away. The connection between us was so intense it almost hurt. 

“Elvis,” I said.

“Now you know who I am.”

“I always knew who you were.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said, transfixed. 

His words shook me to my core. These were words I could have only dreamed about him saying to me eight years ago. And now that he was saying them, here, after what he’d accomplished… 

I wanted to tell him who I was. I wanted to, so badly. But the way he was looking at me now…he was looking at Missy, not Y/N. And I was scared of losing that.

Whatever old emotions about the past he’d inflicted upon me, I stifled away. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember me. It didn’t matter who I was, or who he was, or who we used to be. 

The only thing that mattered was right now. 

“If that’s what you think,” I whispered, smirking shyly. “Kiss me again.”

Elvis didn’t waste a single second. He grabbed my face again, gently this time, cupping my cheeks in his hands like I was a fragile work of art, and he kissed me. I didn’t care that, to him, this was just a kiss for some random fan who he’d just met that day. Or that, if it wasn’t me, he’d have no problem finding someone else to kiss instead.

Because to me, it was everything. 

Compared to his gentle hands, his mouth was rough, desperate. He pried my lips open with his, and I let him, just as eager. A voice came from behind him, one of the security guards: “Mr. Presley, it’s time to go.” He pulled away, eyes wide, and kissed me once more before breaking apart. “I have to go.”

“Alright,” I trembled.

“Beale Street,” he said as he backed away. “Meet me at Beale Street, tonight.”

“Where on Beale Street?” 

Behind me, fireworks went off in the sky. His eyes were alighted with orange and red. “Club Handy,” was the last thing he said to me before the security guards dragged him off the stage into a cruiser and drove him away through the crowds.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: This is the end of Chapter 1 but I’ll be writing more!!! Any predictions?!? I apologize for any typos!! I’m really drunk as I type this so if thre are typos just lmk and I’ll fix it tomorrow! Also here’s my schpiel I copy and paste on the end of every fic haha please read it:

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Please send me asks because they make me smile so hard omg!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

Also I do have a taglist but I’m too drunk to tag anyone tonight so i’ll do it tomorrow but ya lmk via my ask box if you want me to ad d you to it@ !!

#Austin butler!elvis #elvis 2022 #Elvis x reader #Elvis Presley x Reader #austin butler #Elvis Presley fanfiction #elvis presley imagine #austin butler imagine

[roomsofangel]

. . BY YOUR SIDE / DESTROY YOU

# CHAPTER TWO !

synopsis in which you were always the type to push down and never confront your past and the feelings that came with it — all of the pain and regret. but now you’re back at where it all started, having no choice but to face it and feel everything all at once

warnings y/n has a panic attack but its not detailed, only showing an implication that she is but the scene ends before it goes further

wc 1.4k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

you stretched out your body as someone would an old childhood shirt, bones cracking and falling into a more comfortable place with a quiet satisfied groan before rolled your shoulders back, looking around at the warehouse that was an agreed upon meeting destination. the nostalgia weighed heavy, you could swear you saw droplets of memories splattered around the scene outside and you cringed.

as if your mind was being read, you felt a warm calloused hand on your shoulder, “yeah. me too.” you glanced to see seonghwa who had a similar gaze that mirrored yours, lips pressed together in an attempt to give you a thin lipped but reassuring smile before he patted your back and continued on with his bass that was in his hand, resting in its own case.

part of you wanted to change your mind, but music was your passion. even when things fell apart back then, you still craved music and the arts of being on stage again someday kept you going. however ever since him, you struggled making a name for yourself after. for your own band after he left.

sometimes you could still taste the smoke if you focused hard enough but hongjoong snaps you into reality with a few calls of your name, you follow shortly after with an unsettling feeling in your stomach. just ignore it. you didn’t eat today so that could be it. just ignore it.

“you okay?” mingi noticed your discomfort, his voice a bit lower to keep the conversation between the two of you as he put his drumsticks in his back pocket and you nodded in response. “yeah, just nostalgic.” and he hummed, laughing a bit as a response as the two of you started to walk again to catch up with seonghwa and hongjoong. “yeah.. i feel that.”

you returned the small laugh, looking ahead and watching how hongjoong and seonghwa talked and looked at each other with stars in their eyes even after all these years, even after the three years all of you separated. at times, it feels as if none of you parted ways for that long. you could feel the lump in your throat, but you swallowed it down harshly and kept going. “so, we set up here and then what?” mingi’s voice prompted when the two of you made it to the others

“explore a little, we haven’t been on this side of town in.. what? three years?” hongjoong’s features scrunched up when he attempted to recall, seonghwa mumbled a confirmation while he was kneeled over tying his shoe and making sure everything was settled. “a lot has changed, and trapnest wont be here until another hour so we have time.” hongjoong continued

sooner rather than later, you found yourself walking the same streets that you swore you would never even think about again, much less be back where the air is suffocating and your clothes now felt tight. a lot has changed, only the dread stayed the same. it was a bittersweet atmosphere.

“oh! check it out, sakura boutique is still going strong,” seonghwa’s head motioned ahead, your gaze followed to see the light pink and beige clothing boutique where you used to spend some of your time with the owner. you wiped your damp palms on your hands, “crazy, do you think keomi still works there?” mingi asked before pausing to light the cigarette he had between his teeth, covering enough to block the wind with his hand until he lit up and continued walking.

“beats me, its been three years.” seonghwa shrugged, shoving his hands in his jacket’s pockets. you wondered if keomi still did too, but the last time you two talked she was eager on following after your footsteps and had a ticket to leave with you. the guilt was overwhelming, maybe its best to convince yourself she moved a long time ago and there was a new bubbly employee taking her spot.

exhaling the nicotine, mingi chuckled, “we should stop by there sometime.” he voiced his thoughts out loud as you all continued walking, seonghwa muttering a somewhat agreement while hongjoong only nodded to acknowledge the suggestion but not voice if he would be down for the visit or not. sharing a stolen glance with hongjoong, he lifted his finger to his head and swirled his finger to mimic a ‘this guy is crazy’ expression which made you snort, rushing to brush your hand over your mouth in an attempt to cover it up

“what’s so funny back there?” seonghwa teased, glancing towards you and hongjoong who smiled and tilted his head towards mingi who was focused more on looking around at the familiar shops and some if the new ones you assumed came long after all of you left.

the four of you looked around a bit more, deciding to wander around the shopping center you all used to hang out in a little too much that it seemed as if you lived there. and you weren’t sure how you got here, why your feet began to wander further and further away from your group until you walked into the bittersweet record-shop. you cringed at the scent that filled your nose rather then relished in as before, forcing a smile when an employee greeted you.

your manicured nails grazed some of the records, nearly scoffing at seeing a trapnest vinyl propped up with more of their works, noticing how blackstones were scattered around nearby. even now, you were living in someone’s shadow.

“there you are,” seonghwa chuckled, you only smiled in response, setting the vinyl down and giving him a bit more attention. “here i am,” you voiced back with a soft sigh. “can you believe they still have blackstone albums here?” you questioned with a slight smile and head shake, and seonghwa looked where you head motioned towards with your head and smiled

you noticed his eyes graze over and scan the more bigger shrine for trapnest, “used to be us.” he chuckled, his tone playful, “but it’s nice to see people see listen to us even after..” his voice trailed off and you knew exactly what he was referring to. no one liked to talk about it out loud, or even mention it fully unless it was like this and you only nodded.

“where’s mingi and joong?” you asked to steer the conversation into another direction, the two of you starting to walk down more of the aisles and looking around at more of the albums and vinyls. “food court, came to get you.” he replied, fixing his hair back up into the small ponytail he had it in and you nodded, “yeah i could use some food before going back.” you laughed, patting his shoulder and he playfully nudged you to the side causing the two of you to laugh a bit more before your attention faltered and wandered towards a specific part of the store

the lump in your throat was more prominent than ever, heart racing and stomach dropping. “what are you looking at?” seonghwa asked, before he followed your gaze and his face dropped as well as yours had. “y/n, come on,” he tried to drag you away so you didnt hurt yourself more by staring but you shook your arm out of his grasp

you swallowed harshly, unsure of whether it was okay to move yet or if you needed to hold onto something, “did you know?” you managed to croak out and seonghwa shook his head. “none of us did.” he reassured, voice barely audible and you couldn’t rip your eyes off that poster.

it was a band of five, four guys and a girl who you assumed to be the vocalist but your eyes weren’t on her, they couldn’t seem to hold on anyone except one member with a familiar lock necklace that you still had the key to even now, mockingly staring at you.

mouth dry, you blinked away tears and pulled seonghwa along out of the record shop in a haste, and seonghwa didnt hesitate to follow and the two of you walked and walked with no sign of stopping until you got to the food court where you saw concern gazes immediately from hongjoong and mingi when they noticed

“what happened?!” hongjoong asked, bringing you into his arms immediately and you could feel your knees giving up. no no, you cant do this here. why here? why now?

seonghwa looked at mingi and hongjoong, swallowing before speaking, “san is in trapnest.”

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[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 10 (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: SEX. ANGST. 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: 5219

A/N: Oh, lordy, y'all...this one's a doozy. For whatever reason, this one did me in in all the ways and I have a feeling it might do some of y'all in a little, too. I'm both sorry and you're welcome. I promise the (eventual) payoff will be worth it!

Thank you for patience and sweet messages as I again struggled a bit to get this out due to my stupid neck/back pain. I'm really am doing better with my attempt at a more ergonomical writing setup, but am trying not to re-aggravate things, so the writing is still gonna be a bit slow going forward!

Once again, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments are definitely helping me power through some of these particularly gnarly chapters. The asks are just so much fun and I'm so happy that I can bring a little joy (and lust) into your lives! This story (and EP) has taken over my heart and soul, so for those of you still with me, and to all the newcomers, I'm sending you all the love! And I promise there's more good stuff coming ahead, complete with more smut, angst, and tension.

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks since now I know how they work lol)! I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone.

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

See this post for images of Elvis in 1955

October 1955

It’s late, well past the dinner rush and nearing midnight. The harvest moon shines large and orange outside the windows, and for once the diner is empty. Unseasonably warm for late October, you fan yourself with a menu and wish the diner was packed because at least then you wouldn’t have to think about how incredibly mortified you are by the fact that not only did Ted dump you, out of the blue, but that he’d already asked Judith Cole to marry him.

Shame burns on your cheeks when you think about how you’d so easily let him convince you to go all the way with him because he swore, swore, that he was saving for the ring and that was the only thing that stood between him and you and the rest of your lives together. You had no reason to doubt him, after all—you known each other since grade school and had been going steady for over two years.

Turned out Ted was a big, fat liar.

With a defeated sigh, you throw yourself onto one of the stools at the counter and lay your head on top of your arms, tears pricking at your eyes. Stupid Ted. You hate that you’d ever loved him, and you feel even more angry at yourself than at him for thinking he was the one, that he was a good guy. That he loved you. Seems like the only thing he wanted was your innocence and once he got that, well, he’d moved right along.

In your swirl of self-pity, you don’t hear the door to the diner open and it’s not until he’s nearly on top of you that you realize you are no longer alone.

“Y/n? Doll, you alright?” his voice drawls, concerned. You whip up your head in surprise at the familiar voice.

“Elvis?” you sniffle, frantically wiping your tear-stained cheeks, embarrassed to be caught in your humiliation. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” he chuckles, “Not quite the ‘welcome home’ I was hoping for, but I just got back into town and was starvin’, so I figured I’d go to the best diner in town.” He winks and smiles that wide, crooked smile of his, his blue eyes wandering curiously over you.

You haven’t seen him in a dog’s age, with him so busy travelling around with his band, though you certainly hear him on the radio every time you turn it on. He’s getting mighty famous in the South, his unique style of music entrancing teenagers left and right, and you hear-tell that girls are screaming and chasing after him at every turn. Word is he’ll be going national any day now. But none of that particularly matters to you. He’s your friend, after all, and while you’re glad he’s finding success, you are more happy that he’s here.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, E, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s good to see you, I just…” you blabber, now equally embarrassed that you put your friend off, at your job, no less. Seems like you can’t do anything right these days. You choke back a sob, unsuccessfully trying to keep your composure.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Whatcha cryin’ over? Come ‘ere, baby,” Elvis says, pulling you up off the stool and into his arms. You might be surprised at this familiarity coming from him, but instead you are just grateful for the comfort as his arms wrap around you. The kindness he’s showing has you fully weeping now, despite your best efforts to keep it together, and you are too upset to care anymore. Tucking into him, you feel the heat of his skin under his lacy pink shirt, which feels a bit intimate, but that’s honestly the furthest thing from your mind right now.

You shudder and cling to him, your mind occupied with how unfair life feels in this moment, how you’ve desperately tried to hold it together while it feels like the whole town is staring at you and talking behind your back. How the future you’d dreamed about slipped right through your fingers and there was nothing you could do about it. How you feel like it must somehow be all your fault—that you could’ve been a better girlfriend and maybe then Ted would have stayed.

Your love for Ted may have faded these past weeks, but it certainly has left angry scars in its wake.

Elvis just holds you and rocks you, whispering words into your ear in comforting tones as you finally let it all the sadness and anger of the last four weeks out. You’re not sure how long it takes, but eventually, your tears begin to subside and you come back into yourself. Suddenly, you are quite aware of the young man holding you, the way his scent and sweaty warmth surrounds you and how you can feel his bare chest through the lace of his shirt.

You breathe in and pull back, his beautiful crystalline eyes watchful. He lets you go, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to you, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking it and dabbing your eyes and cheeks. You must look a fright after all that crying, but you do feel a bit better.

“You ready to tell me what’s goin’ on now?” he asks, his hand at your back, leading you to one of the booths. He plops down next to you, waiting patiently for you to compose yourself.

You glance over, really taking a good look at Elvis for the first time. His skin still glows a warm sienna from his summer tan, golden sun-streaks lightening his coiffed dark blonde hair. His piercing blue eyes continue to watch you carefully under those impossibly long, dark lashes and you realize that Elvis Presley is no longer the gawky boy you met all those months ago, not at all. He is still thin, but you can start to see the man beginning to peak out from underneath the boy, his face filling out and his jaw stronger. It starts to dawn on you why girls have been falling over their feet for him. Your heart thuds in your chest as you realize he’s actually downright gorgeous. Maybe he always had been, you think, but you’d only had eyes for Ted before now.

You try to shake away those thoughts, as it’s not the time for it and feels absurd under the circumstances. Perhaps it is because this is the first time you’ve ever been alone with Elvis; before now, there was always Jack or others in the diner or being out together as a group, but it’s never been just you two. You aren’t quite sure how that makes you feel. You’re not sure you want to know. One thing you do know is you aren’t in your right mind tonight.

He's waiting on you to say something, anything, you realize.

The intense emotions of the past weeks and your sudden examination of the young man in front of you has you flustered. “Oh, well. Um, Ted…well, he broke up with me about a month ago,” your voice cracks, tears threatening your composure once again.

“What? I thought you two was fixin’ to get hitched,” he says, sitting up and looking at you, eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I thought, too. Said he was saving up for the ring and everything. But then, out of the blue, he just calls it all off. Says we weren’t ‘meant for each other’,” you say dismally.

Elvis waits for you to continue.

“I was shocked, everyone was shocked. Seems like the whole darned town is wondering what happened, but I couldn’t tell you. I still don’t know. Then, I come to find out he’s seeing Judith Cole, which I’m thinkin’ he must have been already doing when we were still together with how fast it all happened, that skunk. That’s humiliating enough, but then yesterday that gossip Sally Hill rolls in here saying that Ted and Judy are engaged, just like that,” you ramble on, fresh tears freely streaming down your cheeks. “Here I was thinkin’ we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. God knows I believed him, and he took advantage of that, of me, of me thinking…enough to…so I…we…” you cry, hiccupping.

The minute you realize what words just left your mouth you are horrified. It’s enough to piece together the truth you don’t want anyone to know. You slap your hand over your mouth, your cheeks blazing with heat. That was a secret you’d intended to keep to your grave, not spill it, your deepest shame, to a boy, much less Elvis Presley.

“God, no, you must think the worst of me…I’m not that sort of girl, I swear!” you exclaim. Then, defeated, you add, “Oh, I’m ruined. No one’s ever going to want me now.” You look at him pleadingly, whispering, “Oh, please Elvis, please don’t tell anyone.”

Your hands are shaking, and you suddenly feel lightheaded. On top of everything else, you’ve gone and made things worse. You wish you could crawl into a hole and die. If you could, you’d leap right out of your seat and run right out the door to do so, but Elvis is blocking you in.

But the look on Elvis’ face isn’t at all what you expect. There is no judgement, not at you, at least. His eyes have darkened in a way you’ve never seen before, a way that’s more than a little frightening. The muscle in his jaw clenches, once, twice, as his brow furrows deeply. Confusion seeps through your tears.

“Elvis…?”

“Did he hurt you?” his voice rumbles, lower than you’ve ever heard it, as he stares forward, not looking at you.

“W-what?” You’re not exactly sure what he is asking. Of course, Ted hurt you. That’s what you’ve been saying.

“You said he...he took advantage…Y/n, I need to know if he hurt you. Because if he hurt you, Teddy’s gonna wish he ain’t never been born,” Elvis says, grabbing your hand and looking at you with determined eyes, eyes filled with a shocking, simmering fury.

Oh. Oh.

You shake your head vehemently. “No…not like that. He didn’t hurt me like that, Elvis, I swear it,” you reassure him quietly.

He searches your face with open fervor, looking for any signs that you might be hiding something from him. Eventually satisfied with your answer, he nods, taking a deep breath.

You are beyond flummoxed and overwhelmed. You were already in a strange space because of everything Ted had done. But then in came Elvis, of all people, comforting you, listening to you all concerned-like, and now he looks ready to downright murder Ted at the mere suggestion that Ted might have physically harmed you.

Your heart flutters in your chest at this, surprising you, to say the least. You look at Elvis with wide eyes, suddenly acutely aware of how close he is and how good he looks and how he is looking at you like that. And maybe it’s no different than usual, but right now it sure feels different. You swallow hard.

Elvis squeezes your hand tightly. “Now, you listen to me, doll—you ain’t ruined and I don’t think any less of you, you hear? Cross my heart, your secret’s safe with me,” he says, drawing an X over his heart.

You stare down at your hands on the table, playing anxiously with your fingers, embarrassment still coursing through your veins. You believe him when he says he won’t share what he’s learned. You have to, because despite what he says (he is a man after all), if it gets out that you were with Ted before marriage, your reputation will indeed be in question.

Then, much to your shock, Elvis reaches out, brushing an errant tear off your cheek with the pad of his thumb before running his pointer finger down your jaw, resting it under your chin. His light touch sends a rolling shiver of delight through you, a response you cannot seem to control. He lifts your chin slowly, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“And don’t you dare say nobody’s gonna want you now. Baby, any man worth his salt would be lucky to have you, alright?” Elvis says definitively but gently, those azure eyes plundering your soul, as if he can banish your shame by burning it out of you with the light and care of his own. He waits solemnly for your acknowledgement, his finger still under your chin.

“Alright,” you finally breathe out, nodding. You honestly feel like you might pass out from the way he’s looking at you and from the way your heart is coming up out of your throat.

The silence that settles between you feels charged, like the feeling just before lightning strikes during a thunderstorm. You’re not sure what the heck is happening, only that something significant has shifted. You are ricocheting so quickly from emotion to emotion that you reason you must be imagining it.

Just a minute ago, you were sobbing over Ted, but now Ted feels like a long ago, far away, distant memory. Instead, you feel utterly hypnotized by the young man in front of you who has you caught in his gaze. Dangerously, you let your mind wander to the thought that Elvis sure is handsome all the sudden, with the way he leapt to your defense and is saying sweet things. Not to mention the way he’s touching you and especially how those bedroom eyes are considering you, searching your face, looking at you in what could be a more-than-friendly way…

No, Elvis couldn’t possibly be looking at you like that. It’s Elvis for god’s sake. You blink rapidly, as if this will clear these intrusive thoughts from your mind.

It doesn’t.

The flutter deep in your belly is something you should not be feeling, and yet it’s happening anyway. You feel completely unhinged. He’s just being kind. Just because a boy is kind to you doesn’t mean anything else is going on, you try to convince yourself.

You know you must be imagining the way his eyes are travelling down your face, lingering briefly at your lips. The warmth spreading across your chest and down your arms is making it clear to you that you wouldn’t be the least bit opposed if he closed the distance and pressed those deliciously pouty lips to yours.

And perhaps he’s considering it, too, and thinks better of it because then Elvis releases you, breaking the spell. You let out a shuddering breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You aren’t sure what to say or do, you only know that you feel completely vulnerable to him and whatever seems to be happening (or not happening) between you two.

His leg is now jumping like crazy under the table, his usual intense energy seemingly compounded by the stillness that just engulfed you both. The newly gained confidence that had oozed from him not moments before has dissipated as he looks down at his hands almost bashfully.

Or maybe he’s ashamed that he nearly took advantage of the situation, you think, but that would be silly because Elvis doesn’t think of you like that—he’s just a well-mannered Southern boy being nice to a friend who’s having a bad day. He’s probably uneasy because he could sense what you were thinking by the way you were mooning over him and it made him uncomfortable. Lordy, between that and what he now knows about you going all the way with Ted, you feel like a damn hussy. Your cheeks burn with that thought and you look away, but you still mark the stark difference in his behavior.

“W-w-wanna b-b-bet she’s probably pregnant?” he says, abruptly changing the subject and obviously nervous.

“What?” you say, confused, snapped out of your thoughts. “Who?”

“Judy Cole. I’m b-b-bettin’ the reason they’s got engaged so quick is cuz she’s in the family way,” he says, looking at you with eyebrows raised.

“Elvis! You shouldn’t say such things!” you smack his arm playfully, but then you really think on it for a second. The way Ted broke up with you out of nowhere and was with Judy so fast…no, you think, he’d already been with Judy, but things got out of hand and…

“Oh my god,” you say, wide-eyed, looking back at Elvis.

“Ain’t got anything to do with you, doll. Teddy went and got himself and Judy into trouble and now’s tryin’ to get them out of it,” Elvis says with a knowing shrug.

You consider this for a moment. It’s so absurd yet so obvious that it is the most likely explanation. “Oh good lord,” you say, laughing, suddenly finding the entire mess ridiculous. And then you can’t stop laughing, and then Elvis is laughing with you, and the tension breaks and for the first time in four weeks, you feel like you can breathe again.

*

The dream-memory was locked somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind, unchained by the events of the last few days. You realize in your haze of half-sleep that the interaction was likely the first time you realized, and subsequently pushed away, your attraction for Elvis.

How could I have forgotten such an important memory? How many more have I forgotten? Why? you wonder as the last of the dream wisps away from you.

Protection, another voice responds.

You are barely awake when you feel the tickle of Elvis’ lips on the back of your neck, brushing down your spine in such a way that it sends tingles straight into your belly. You have no idea how long you’ve slept, nor does it really seem to matter because Elvis’ arms are holding you close. Close enough that you can feel his growing warmth against your butt cheek, and you can’t help but smile a little that this is the effect you’ve come to have on him.

In your sleepy haze, you hum and reach behind you, first drifting your fingers through his hair and then grabbing his ass at the same time you press into him.

“Damn, baby, what ya do to me…” he purrs in your ear, voice husky with sleep, “Never in my life have I ever wanted somebody the way I wantchu.” He pulls you in closer.

“Hmm, really?” you ask sleepily. You can feel him moving behind you, in what you think is an effort to shirk of his pajamas. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

He stills, and your heart is suddenly in your throat, eyes popping open. If you had been more awake, you probably would’ve thought better of such a joke in such an intimate moment. Thing is, you know in your heart you are right. You weren’t born yesterday, and you certainly are no fawning virgin. He’s Elvis. He’s likely told many, many women something similar in the heat of the moment. You’re not upset about it, but it seems like he might be.

Cursing yourself for possibly killing the mood, you wait for him to say something, anything, that will give you an indication of his state of mind. He gives you nothing.

“E, I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise. It was a silly joke,” you finally say.

“Look at me,” he commands, voice stern. Your heart gallops in your chest, but you do as he asks, turning your body around to face his. You force yourself to look into those steely eyes, clouded with seriousness.

Elvis grabs your jaw with his hand, his now-naked body propped up on one arm and leaning over you. “I ain’t foolin’ with ya, y/n, when I tell ya I want—no—need you like I ain’t never needed anybody in my goddamn life. Don’t matter how many women came before, you hear me?” he says through a clenched jaw. He’s not mad, per say, just vehement and dominating in his need to be understood by you, as if it’s something of the greatest importance.

You nod in his hand, taken aback by both his statement and the seriousness with which it’s delivered. Your heart thuds in your chest, your breath held, from the way he’s looking at and talking to you. It’s not from fear, however, not really. It’s from the surprise and possible implications of what he’s saying to you. Sleep still addles your brain, so the dots that you’ve desperately been avoiding connecting appear only momentarily, just long enough for you to widen your eyes and catalogue what he is saying for consideration later.

Then, he kisses you fiercely, passionately, all heat and tongue, sending a ripple of heat through your veins. He’s hot and hard against your thigh.

“I need you, baby. I need what’s mine,” Elvis says, nearly desperate and his eyes beginning to blaze, putting his thumb in your mouth. You respond instinctually, rolling the tip of your tongue over it, sucking it in. You can feel the heat go straight to your core and by the way his eyes roll back, you know it went to his, too.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles. He shifts, to his knees, grabbing the silky blue nightie he gave you and pulling it up over your head, discarding it to the side and leaving you bare before him. Assuming he’s going to ravage you from above, he instead surprises you by curling you back into him, spooning you.

Now that you are both naked, with no barrier between you, his bare skin feels like flames licking against yours. One large hand gropes your breasts, cupping them, tweaking your nipples gently, while the other swipes through your folds, testing. Then he puts his cock between your legs, sliding it back and forth through your folds, hitting your clit with his swollen tip each time, leaving you writhing.

“Gonna show you what I mean, lil’ mama,” he breathes low in your ear, causing a sigh to escape your lips. “That okay with you?” he asks. You nod frantically, unable to form words because the way he is handling you, the way he is talking to you, has you feeling untethered.

When Elvis slides into you from behind, it’s insistent, yet gentle. He groans with you as he bottoms out in your wet heat, stilling as you adjust, holding you fast to him as if you might float away. Slowly, he begins rocking into you, and you are so tight around the length of him that each roll has you both breathing heavily already.

“Made just for me, baby,” he sighs into your neck, relishing the feel of your walls hugging him. His words work magic within you, filling you with warmth, causing you to lazily swivel your hips in his lap.

“Jesus, mama, you know just what to do,” he moans, taking what you have to give him.

He takes your hand in his, guiding it down your belly to that sensitive nub of nerves, using your fingers with his to rub circles for a while. A relaxed warmth pools there, eager but content with the slow rhythm you two have set. Elvis pulls your knee up, exposing where you are joined, and rubs his fingers at the place where your pussy consumes his cock. Wet with arousal, his fingers play there.

“Look at that,” he says, almost in awe, watching as he slides in and out of you, “That’s mine. You’re all mine, baby. Only you know how to take me so good.” His possessiveness and his praise send shivers through you as you watch with him, and you want it to be true. You want to be his. You love being the object of his desire, no matter how wrong it might be.

You are utterly consumed by him. As he turns you in his arms and sits you in his lap, you rock together, wrapped in each other. His lips are hot and needy and somehow still gentle on yours, on your body, as he whispers to you all the ways that you are his. You let yourself believe him, you let him prove to you with every kiss, with every thrust, that you belong to him and he belongs to you.

When he sends you into the stratosphere with him, making you look into those endless, dreamy eyes of his, you lock on as if your life depends on it. You fly together, with this man who looks as ethereal as an angel. You are as physically connected as two people can be, your bodies sliding together, sweat mingling, mouths tasting, each of your arousal coating the other. You are one.

It feels like a dream, a wonderful, glorious dream.

But after dreams, we must wake.

So then, lying there spent in Elvis’ arms, this beautiful man who has upended your life in more ways than one, fear chokes you. The icy cold of it courses through you like a flash flood, seizing your heart.

The feelings you want to avoid have been chasing you all night, no, for years, according to your newfound memories. While they were warm and comforting earlier in the midst of dreams and sex, now you feel desperate to push them away, panicked by all the implications and dangers of what they mean. You’ve become so swept up in your interpretation of your relationship with Elvis and with the allure of it all, of being desired, that you’ve lost sight of reality.

You ultimately realize, tonight wasn’t you two fucking. This wasn’t just passionate sex, at least not for you. The butterflies and the care and the domesticity…

Tonight, you made love. With Elvis-fucking-Presley.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest.

It can’t possibly be true. You can’t feel this way. It’s only been four days.

And fourteen years, that asshole voice in the back of your mind chimes in.

Shut up, I have not been in love with Elvis for fourteen years! you chide yourself.

Are you sure?

No, now you are not sure. You aren’t sure at all. And you are too busy banishing all such thoughts from your brain to take the time to really think about that very disturbing possibility.

This is not what you signed up for. You didn’t mean for this to happen. It can’t happen.

You absolutely cannot fall in love with Elvis. That road can only lead to ruin.

Part of you wants to flee, to run out of this suite as fast as your legs will carry you. But as you look over at the beautiful man wrapped around you, you realize you can’t. You won’t.

Because as much as you want to fight and buck and protest, a part of you knows it’s true. You’ve been feeling it for days. You’ll do just about anything to just be in his presence and feel like this.

The worst part is you know you are being stupid, having fallen prey to his charm, his seduction, his wiles, just like hundreds, thousands, millions of other women. You are not unique, not in the slightest. You’ve watched it happen, again and again over the years, with the revolving door of women throwing themselves at his feet.

And you let yourself become one of them.

It’s likely he doesn’t feel the same about you, not really, no matter how you want to manipulate the past and present to make yourself think that he does. You push away any possible evidence, anything at all that could make you believe he could ever really, truly love you. You don’t even let yourself begin to entertain that thought, because you know just how fickle Elvis Presley can be with his women. He desires, he covets, he possesses, he becomes infatuated, but it isn’t love. He enjoys his women and then leaves them, just like clockwork. Usually more than one at once.

You don’t think it’s intentional, what he does, he’s just Elvis and doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. Perhaps he can’t, being in his position. You know he feels lonely and needs to be wanted, needs to be loved. But monogamy and commitment and true love are not in Elvis’ vocabulary, not from what you’ve seen. And you’ve known Elvis Presley a long time.

Like you’re one to talk—you’re married, you idiot.

And there’s that.

God, you are so pissed off at yourself you could scream.

You close your eyes, feeling trapped. Every cell in your body wants him near, wants whatever he can give you, even if it’s not enough for you. Because here, lying in his arms, he’s your Elvis. He’s the boy who wanted to defend your honor in that diner so long ago, your friend, the one who listened to you and confided in you, kept your secrets and shared your joys. The boy who you watched become a man, an icon, a once-in-a-generation force of nature. A man so charismatic, so talented, a supernova so utterly unique that it is impossible not to be swept up into his orbit. Yet you know intimately that he is still just a man, flesh and blood, with as many faults as the rest of us. But you denied yourself of him for so long that the idea of being without him now feels like emptiness.

However, your mind desperately, desperately needs to protect your heart from the inevitable pain that is coming. You want to push away this absolutely aching love you feel for him, to wall it up to keep yourself safe from once again not being enough for the men in your life. Every man you’ve ever loved has hurt you. You don’t want to add Elvis to that list.

If you end it first, it will hurt like hell, but less now than in the long run. It’ll be on your terms, and you can keep it from scarring too deep. You can cherish what you’ve had without it being poisoned by the inevitable pain and heartache that will come when you realize he never really loved you. It’ll hurt less now than if—when—he ends it because he will end it. He will tire of you, of this, and realize his mistake. He will move on easily because that’s what he does, and you will be left, once again, used and in the dust.

You tell yourself this now to prepare yourself, turning over so he cannot see the tears welling in your eyes. You are angry and tired of loving and being defined by men who can so easily discard you.

But as Elvis wraps his arms around you, you don’t think you’re strong enough to do what needs to be done. He’s too alluring, too addicting, too him. So maybe, you think, maybe for now you just wall up those feelings nice and tight and keep this affair as what it was intended to be all along: just sex. Mind-blowing, hot, meaningless sex with a friend.

Nothing more, nothing less.

No pining, no strings, no deep feelings.

Just sex.

Easy peasy.

Good fucking luck.

**

Taglist:

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

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

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

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

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy 

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #Pink Scarf #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis presley imagine #austin butler #elvis fic #elvis presley fic #elvis imagine

[sxf-rarepairweek]

hello everyone!! i wanted to give a huge THANK YOU for joining us in celebrating the rare pairs of Spy x Family! to everyone who submitted and to all who have read or shared or commented, thank you so so much!!! this last week and everything leading up to it has been so filled with excitement and anticipation it's hard to believe it's already over.

i'm so so proud of our little community and how many works we've received! as of typing this there are 25 total fanfic submissions (23 works on the AO3 collection (+1 including chapters for each prompt) +1 submitted on tumblr), 9 pieces of fanart, 1 gifset, and 3 headcanons for a total of 38 submissions!!! it's been an incredible turnout, please give yourselves a pat on the back!!

we've reblogged all the submissions we've found, so if yours hasn't been shared yet, please shoot us a dm/ask either here or on @sxf-rarepairs or @ this account so we can reblog it!!

REMEMBER!! even though the Rare Pair Week itself is over, late submissions are always welcome! as they say, rare pair week may be over, but our love for them goes all year long uwu i have a fanfiction or two i'm planning on finishing and submitting myself, so please don't hesitate! this was so much fun that we at the Spy x Family Rare Pairs discord are already planning more events, so please stay tuned!! if you love rare pairs or even if you just have one you ship ironically (for now), we'd love to have you! there's plenty of seats here at the brainrot circus 💜🎪

once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH for making this week a success!! <333 if you'd like to see more charts and statistics, there will be some based on this year's rare pair week below the cut!

hello, welcome to under the read more, because it was already getting quite long!!!

first off, i know i said the number of submission types we received before, but here it is in pie chart form! it's easier to visualize it this way and i think it's fun nwn

plus i made a chart for the totals of submissions each ship got! loid x franky was the most popular, with a whopping 7 pieces!! and there are, of course, plenty of singular works for other rarer pairs (9, to be exact! that's like half the total number of ships!!) i think i had more ideas for other charts and statistics but they have unfortunately fell out of my head in the span of time between starting to write this and actually making the graphs and posting it 😔 so if y'all have any ideas or further questions about this year's week, feel free to send them over!!

if you've read this far, thank you again!!! hope to see y'all in future events! 💜

#spy x family #sxf rare pair week 2024 #sxf rare pair week #sxf rare pair #sxf #sxfrpw2024 #spy x family rare pair week #spy x family rarepair week #i'm a lil bit really late but yknow #i haven't made charts like this in years so it took me some time actually lmao #but i really wanted them! #also thank u icb for providing me with the phrase brain rot circus in reference to the server (specifically our brand of yuriloid brainrot) #i want to use it all the time now #from aster

[diakkoday]

DIAKKO DAY 2023!

It’s that time again! The Diakko community is once again uniting to celebrate our favourite little gay witches, and this time, we’re hoping it’s gonna be even bigger and better than last year!

February 1st is an opportunity for all fans of Diakko to post fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, videos, edits, or anything else you can think of focused on Diakko!

We’ve provided some answers to common questions below, but if you have anything else you want to ask, don’t hesitate to send us a message here, or on Twitter.

We’d also like to extend a huge thanks to @yourcutesthope​ for her fantastic art to kick off our countdown hype! If your interested in doing a piece to countdown the weeks to Diakko day, let us know!

How do I participate?

Participating is simple! All you need to do is post whatever Diakko work you create on February 1st, and tag it as #DiakkoDay2023! Tagging this account also makes it easier for us to find your work and share it, and tagging it #diakko, #dianakko, and #LittleWitchAcademia makes it easier for other Diakko fans to find and enjoy your work!

We’ll also be sharing everything over on Twitter! We’ll be using the same #DiakkoDay20223 hashtag, and we also suggest using #Diakko, #LWA_jp, and #ダイアコ on Twitter. Last year, we got plenty of submissions from beyond the English-speaking fandom, so using the internationally recognised hashtags can help spread your work and the event far and wide!

Is there a theme? Are there any rules?

There’s no theme, you can submit whatever you like! This is simply a day to celebrate Diakko!

That said, we won’t be reblogging or retweeting NSFW content. For writers, this means your fic or chapter needs to be rated T or G. For artists, that means no boobs, genitalia, blood/gore, BDSM themes or similar. If you’re not sure if your work falls under these rules, please feel free to shoot us a DM on either Tumblr or Twitter!

Additionally, we would request that writers send us only one fic chapter or oneshot that they wish to be shared. Artists may send collages or comics with multiple images if they so wish, but we’d ask that you send them as a single post to make sharing them easier, thank you!

Why February 1st?

According to the timeline outlined in The Little Witch Academia Chronicles book, the finale of Little Witch Academia most likely takes place on February 1st. And what better day to celebrate Diakko than the day the two of them saved the world! And held hands! In space!

Also no one can prove they didn’t kiss after the camera panned away, OK?

Is this connected to Diakko Week? Why Diakko Day?

Because most ships, especially anime ships, have popular days to celebrate them in their fandoms! These are often fun dates, like combining the two characters’ favourite numbers, or the canonical day they met, so the community figured Diakko needed one too! The great number of submissions last year would seem to agree, and we can’t wait to see what you all have for us this year!

Diakko Week is a separate event that occurs in the summer. Some of the folks involved in organising Diakko Week are also part of the team for Diakko Day (they say hi!), but the two events are distinct (hence our lack of prompts), united primarily by our desire to celebrate our favourite witches.

Is there any way I can get more involved? I’d love to meet more folks from the Diakko community!

Aside from commenting and sharing each other’s posts on the day, you can also join our Discord! Simply add our admin LavMana#0188 and ask about joining the Little Gay Witches! Our community is primarily writers and artists for Diakko and other LWA and wider WLW fandoms, but we have plenty of fans who enjoy hanging out so come say hi!

And that should be everything! Please don’t hesitate to send us an ask if you have any questions, and we’re looking forward to seeing your submissions on February 1st!

#diakko #dianakko #lwa #Little Witch Academia #DiakkoDay2023

[allylikethecat]

ally!!!!! i’ve always loved You Know Where the City Is but wow this is the best chapter by far! like i’ve gone from obsessed to mega ultra double obsessed. everyone talking about wrapping fic!matty in a bunch of blankets and feeding him some soup is so real- you always manage to make the most cozy sweetie pie characters no matter what the fic is about. (it goes without saying that fic! taylor much like the real deal is just perfect and i love her)

counting down the chapters till we meet fic!george. so intrigued to see how there relationship will play out since you said it might not be what we expect…. love a good surprise!!!!

im practically bursting with excitement to read the christmas fic and any of the prompts you have been working on but good things take time! please don’t feel rushed to give us new content you already do so much for the sickfic matty community lmao.

hope you have a happy holiday break🥹 sending love always (also don’t be alarmed if i reblog the majority of your prompts on here soon- i have such a bad habit of liking a fic and then scrolling past it once i’ve read it so i need to go back and hunt for them all and actually save them for next time)

Ahhh thank you SO MUCH for this lovely ask omg, and thank you so much for always being so lovely, and kind and supportive 🥰 I apologize this took me a few days to respond to- I usually try and respond to asks on my laptop because I find them easier to formate and alas I had not been back on desktop Tumblr until now.

I'm so, so, so happy to hear that you enjoyed the newest chapter of You Know Where the City Is! I went back and forth on that chapter a lot (an original draft included a trip to Target lol) but I'm really pleased with how it came out and am glad that other people like it as well! Fictional!Matty (and Fictional!Taylor) could REALLY use a hug oh my gosh. They are both going through it and the worst part is they don't even realize how unwell they all 🥺 Fictional!George will be making his appearance very soon! All I can say is that Fictional!Matty is an unreliable source of information 👀 I hope people end up liking how it plays out!

I'm so excited about the Holidays fics but WOW I hope I can actually finish them in time! I haven't even finished the first one yet and I feel like the holidays are getting closer and closer faster and faster 😩 one second is was the beginning of November and now suddenly it's the end of December?! Who allowed this to happen!? I'm behind on the little schedule I made for myself- but hopefully I'll get them both done! Of course my plot bunnies are like "ummm Ally we have all the inspiration for this completely unrelated project!!!" and I'm over here like "not NOW"

We will hopefully be back to our regularly scheduled prompt fulfillment and sickfic programing after the holidays! I'm sorry about the delay, I know people are looking forward an end of SATVB / IV situation fic and I promise I am working on one!! Alas I have just also been really busy with real life.

Thank you so much for the love and I hope you have the most wonderful holidays as well! If you're ever looking for all of the prompt fills I have filled - they can be found here!

Thank you so much again for your kind words, for reading my fics and for your support! You are just so lovely and I am so grateful for your kindness! I hope you are having a wonderful night / day and will hopefully have some more fic ready soon!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #fanfiction #keep it kind #you know where the city is #thank you so much again #im sorry this took me so long to respond too #and that i havent gotten any of the sick fics out #but thank you so much for reading #and being so lovely in general #and im so happy you're enjoying the fake dating fic #i love it and them both so much

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

#eventinfo2020 #whumptober2020 #whumptober #promptlist2020 #prompt list #FAQs #event info

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 12 & 13 | March 14th – March 27th

Welcome to weeks 12 & 13 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 14»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week:

Steve + Bey = 4Ever » Steve Rogers and Bey carved places in each other’s hearts, that no one else could ever replace.

I Hear A Symphony » Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader — Reader plays an important song to her for Bucky.

—Formerly The Winter Soldier » “I’m no longer the winter soldier, my name is James Bucky Barnes & you're part of my effort to make amends.”

Lee Bodecker

(Mini) Series:

*Give In by @not-a-great-writer » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x shy!Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | This story has to be one of my all time series I’ve ever read, and I know I will weep when it’s over. The chapters are decently sized, you have angst, fluff and smut. I couldn’t ask for more, it’s simply a masterpiece.

Deadbeat Pt. 9 by @the-witty-pen-name » Lee Bodecker x F!Reader — You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. | Cole thank you for feeding my current Lee Bodecker obsession after I watched The Devil All The Time, for the time. This story is good and I love soft!Lee, and one where no one dies. At least I hope no one dies...

SamBucky

One-Shots:

Loving You Is Cherry Pie by @river-soul » Sam Wilson x Reader x Bucky Barnes — When Sam Wilson, one of your regulars at the cafe finally asks you out, you’re ecstatic until he tells you he wants his friend to join. When you meet Bucky, you decide it might be worth your while after all. [Allusions to stalking, exhibitionism and explicit sex, 18+] | There is just not enough SamBuck stories out there and we have @river-soul to thank for feeding our love for the boys and giving us some good smut, especially to tide us over till Friday.

Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM by @callmeluna » Sam Wilson x Reader x Bucky Barnes — You are admittedly a handful when you’ve had a few drinks in you. Luckily, your partners Sam and Bucky are more than up for the challenge… maybe. | If you are looking for something to make you laugh, might I suggest reading this? The whole time as I read this I couldn’t get the huge smile off my face, it was that good.

Bucky Barnes

Drabbles:

Matching by @heli0s-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Reader and Bucky are “matchy matchy,” with their belly button rings. | This is adorable as well as very funny.

One-Shots:

Smooth Criminal by @bestofbucky » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Based on a dream @velvetcardiganbucky had. You’re parents told you to never give rides to strangers, but when you notice Bucky Barnes trying to break into your car, you know some strangers aren’t so bad. | Jenny did my dream justice! I honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Don’t Over Do It by @whisperlullaby » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your boyfriend is an asshole. Bucky reminds you that you are perfect the way you are. | I can’t describe this anyway other than perfect, that I wish I had a Bucky like this there for me. Trust me you’ll love the ending.

Coming Home to You by @angrythingstarlight » Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your Biker boyfriend is finally home and he’s going to show you how much he missed you. With every inch he has. And you’re going to remember how much he loves you. | It’s not very often you read something that has an alternate ending and when you do you find yourself loving both endings. Both endings are hot, the smut is great, again who couldn’t love Biker!Bucky?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that. | Thank you so much for entering my writing challenge, it means so much. This one-shot is so good, it hit me right the feels and left me falling in love with Kori and Bucky.

Show Me How To Ride by @angrythingstarlight » Beefy Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You’ve been keeping a secret from your biker boyfriend. He is going to get the information out of you one way or the other. | It’s hot and it makes you realize just how much you realize just how much you love Biker!Bucky.

Bubble Baths by @floatingpetals » Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU) — Even your boyfriend Bucky, needs to wind down at the end of a stressful with a bubble bath, but he doesn’t want to do it alone. | Okay, so my summary of this sucks but let me just say this is fluffy and smutty all at once. I wish I had Bucky to take a bubbly bath with.

Bad Boy!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader by @gagmebucky — in which there’s nowhere to sit and bucky offers his lap—then, subsequently, his cock. (bad boy!bucky x shy!reader, dirty talk, exhibitionism and voyeurism, cockwarming, unprotected sex.) | *chugs water* yeah is it a little hot in here? I probably would have failed class if Bucky had been in my class along with Steve, I wouldn’t have known who to stare at, forget learning the material.

**Greater Good by @fuel-joy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — There is a cure for the zombie outbreak but is it worth the cost. | Grab your tissues, because you are going to need them. Thanks darling for entering my writing challenge and making me feel so many feels with this one.

(Mini) Series:

A Tender Heart ♥️ Pt. 2 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpired fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics, brief mention of bullying and fluff] | If anyone can pull at your heartstrings it’s @river-soul making the beginning of this series look so promising and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

Run To You 🪙 Pt. 10 🪙 Pt. 11 🪙 Pt. 12 by @bestofbucky » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bodyguard!Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. | Jenny left me at the edge of my seat, making this such an amazing story, I always look forward to her updates, and so sad that there is only 1 chapter left.

Better than Working sequel to This by @angrythingstarlight » Beefy Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Beefy Biker Bucky shows you all the benefits of working from home. In fact what he has for you is so much better than work. | Sometimes you just need to read something hot to lift your spirits, let this do that.

Stucky

One-Shots:

*Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again. | This is so hot that I highly recommend not reading this anywhere out in public. The smut in this is just *chefs kiss*

(Mini) Series:

Miracle Pt. 2 🥀 Pt. 1 by @heavenhatesme » Soft!Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader; Soft!Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — When infertility threatens mankind with extinction and there hasn’t been a baby for almost 18 years, what happens when two certain super soldiers fall for the same woman and accidentally impregnate her? | It’s not tagged as dark, sorry to the writer I tagged it that please forgive me? But I just want to tell everyone heed the tags. I do look forward to reading what happens next. The smut in this is great!

Invisible Ink by @navybrat817 » Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers — The owners of the Howling Commandos Tattoo Parlor want to make you their best girl. | I love the idea of tattoo’d Bucky and Steve, but that's because I have a weakness for tattoo’s. So this series is just right up my alley, and the start of it is so good that I know it’s good to be a great one!

Steve Rogers

Drabbles:

Chocolate Milk & Dino Nuggets by @nony-bear » Steve Rogers x Reader — Daddy Steve helps make his little girl feel better after a long week. DDLG THEMES | Had me wishing I had a Steve to make me Dino nuggets after a long day at work. It’s precious folks.

Prompt 4K Drabble Challenge by @sweeterthanthis » Steve Rogers x Reader — “Show me how deep you can take it.” | You’re going to need an ice cold bath after this one.

One-Shots:

A Cruel Tide by @writerwrites » Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader — A lost hero thinks she needs saving, but this divorcée’s needs were different, fleeting, and then full of attachment. Can they overcome the burdens on their shoulders and keep their word? | Sometimes you want to wrap the reader and Steve in a blanket and protect them while enjoying the smut. This gave me that and more.

Untitled Request by @navybrat817 » Steve Rogers x Reader — Sending Steve a naughty photo while he’s in a meeting leads to punishment that will remind you to never do it again, right? | Hi, I’m just going to drench myself in ice cold water. ✌🏻

(Mini) Series:

*Control Pt. 3 🔐 Pt. 1 🔐 Pt. 2 by @river-soul » dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — When a probationary agent asks you out on a date you learn Steve’s intentions for you have evolved. He doesn’t take kindly to someone touching what’s his. [Noncon, physical violence (biting), grooming behavior and explicit sex, 18+] | Definitely one of my favorite series to read on Tumblr so far, you know it’s dark, and the smut is great. I always look forward to the updates on this one.

*Lipstick and Crayons 🖍 Ch. 4 by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob. | This story always gets my heart a racing and leaves you with questions as to what is going to happen next. I truly love it and Soft!Dad while being Angry!Mob boss Steve all at the same time, this story just has it all for me.

This Is My Unbecoming by @river-soul » Werewolf!Steve Rogers x Witch!Reader — When the Hydra pack graduates from turning humans to swell their ranks to kidnapping and murdering witches to consolidate power, Steve knows he needs to strike. He makes a deal with a powerful coven leader for a witch of his own in exchange for destroying the rogue pack. [Magical realism, biting, blood, slightly dubious consent and explicit sex, 18+] | Okay this is so good and I would like to thank the teenage mind of @river-soul for creating this! Like seriously thank you. I look forward to reading more!

It’s been a long, long time ☕️ Ch.1 by @mostly-marvel-musings » Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers – a man who has lost too much finds himself blending into the crowd in attempts to forget his past but revisits familiar places and spends days sketching his heart out. A rainy evening leads him to find shelter in your coffee shop. Is having meaningful conversations over endless cups of coffee with a stranger the key to unlocking a heart that’s lost the will to love? | The prologue tore my heart out, it truly did but the first chapter just puts the pieces back together. I really love this and I’m honestly looking forward to reading what happens next. I can’t thank you enough for entering my writing challenge!

*Not A Team Part: 1 by @shedobewritingalittle » Steve Rogers x Reader — The Reader tries to live a normal life, but her memories won’t leave her alone. Rhodey comes to visit the reader with a proposition. | There aren't a lot of stories out there that have walk on parts with Rhodey in it and I didn’t know how much I missed out on having him in stories till I read this. This was just so well written and the characterization of Rhodey was perfect, how Peyton got the emotions written across, it’s perfect. Read this and have some tissues on hand. I will always love it.

Andy Barber

One-Shots:

Closing Arguments by @river-soul » Andy Barber x Reader — Andy and you are going out for the first time since your daughter’s birth. Anxious about leaving her behind Andy does his best to make you feel better. [Fluff with explicit sex (f recieving), 18+] | So fluffy and sweet!

Keep the Heat by @ozarkthedog » Andy Barber x Reader — Andy fucks you in the coat. | Semi-Short and the smut is oh so good.

(Mini) Series:

Homebound 🏡 Ch. 1 by @fuel-joy » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader — You witness your neighbor kill his wife. You try to gather evidence all from the comfort of your home. | Prepare to be at the edge of your seat with this one, it’s just that good.

One Night by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader — One night changes your entire life. | This is dark and exciting, with tons of angst in it. I love a real good dark!Andy fic and this is it.

Chris Evans

One-Shots:

Mirrors by @cherrychris » Chris Evans x Reader — “wanna know what i see? me owning you and this sweet little pussy” | Sometimes you read things that just blow your mind and this was one of those things.

*Work Party by @harrylovex » Chris Evans x Reader — you get drunk at a work party and chris looks after you… | This is really adorable and probably one of my favorite fluffy Chris Evans one-shots I’ve ever read.

Misc.

One-Shots:

An Act of Kindness by @stargazingfangirl18 » Jake Jensen x Female!Reader — A simple act of kindness seals your fate. | I would like to simply start of by saying that this was my first Jake Jensen fanfiction in years, or maybe my first one, and all I could was where have I been hiding from him? So good and glad I read this and so will you!

*Come Back Safe by @celestialbarnes » Sam Wilson x Reader — based on tfatws, you find out sam’s leaving for a mission, afraid to lose the man you love, you confront him, and he promises you to come back. | So fluffy you’ll want to cuddle it under a blanket fort and wish under a thousand starry night skies for it to come true.

(Mini) Series:

Fiery Friends Pt. 3 🔥 Pt. 4 by @wanderinglunarnights » Johnny Storm x OFC!Sophia Jones — Johnny invites his best friend Sophia to stay with him in his penthouse during quarantine. | I really like this story, because I find myself mentally rooting for Sophia and Johnny, also going you go girl. Looking forward to what is next for this duo.

Ensnared Pt. 2 🔗 Pt. 1 by @stargazingfangirl18 » Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader; minor Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x Reader — Robert preps you for the handoff to the smooth talking stranger who bought you, but before he lets you go, he wants to have a little fun first. | So good and hot. Honestly I look forward to hopefully finding out what happens between the reader and Ransom.

Made With Love by @ayybtch » Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader + Friends to Lovers — Wanda is an excellent cook but a terrible baker. A rough day leads her to the bakery in the Avengers compound where she meets you, the lead baker. After a dismal attempt at making chocolate chip cookies, you volunteer to help Wanda learn how to bake. Your friendship grows stronger with each successful recipe until the two of you stumble into something even sweeter than baked goods. | This story will constantly have you smiling, sure it’s only 3 chapters so far, but I started off reading it in a bad mood but by the 3rd chapter I was just so sappy and happy. I can’t wait for more!

Without Me by CuttingMyFingersOff » Legolas x OFC!Braigeth — Braigeth was an elf who has nothing but memories of Legolas to help her survive being imprisoned in the walls of Orthanc. That is, until she is able to escape and reunite with him. | I’ve been invested in this since my friend came forward to me with the idea for this story and now that it’s being written, I couldn’t be more excited to read it. I need more Lord of the Rings in my life if I’m being honest.

Forever and Ever More by @syntheticavenger » Dark Alpha!Ransom Drysdale x Omega!Reader — Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha but he has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not. | Prepared to go on a Hawaiian EMOTIONAL roller coaster with this story, there are so many times in this story you find yourself picking your jaw up off the floor. I’ve linked you to chapter 9, which has all the previous chapters, listed.

Is A Shout Out To My...

@bluemusickid in celebration of 700 followers is hosting a Holi Celebration Writing Challenge, that is due April 30th, but extension can be given. Any Marvel or MCU characters can be used in addition to Chris Evans and his characters. The theme is Holi and its colors, for better explanation visit the link provided.

@whisperlullaby in celebration of 700 followers is hosting a 700 Followers Challenge, your entries will be due May 5th. The theme is kinks, no RPF, DDLG/MMLG, bathroom related , incest, or under age kinks. This is MCU characters, Sebastian Stan, and Chris Evans characters x OFC or Reader. For more information visit the link provided. Congrats Becca on the 700 followers you deserve it hun!

@stargazingfangirl18 in celebration of 5K followers is hosting a Soft Dark Writing Challenge, which is due May 31st. Don’t let the name fool you, your writing can be soft, dark, or soft!dark, or headcanons about any Chris character. 500 word minimum with no max, but new or be read as a stand alone piece. For more information visit the link provided and be sure to congratulate Siri on her 5K milestone!

@cloudystevie in celebration of 4K followers is hosting a Mob!AU Writing Challenge, that is due on May 30th. You can use Chris Evans and any of his characters he’s played before, as well as make it NSFW or SFW. To learn more about it please visit the link below. Also congratulations Jasmeen on the 4K followers! 💗

#fanfiction recommendations #VelvetCardiganBucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #ktk fic rec #ktk rec ‘21 #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #ktk rec #andy barber x reader #andy barber #chris evans x reader #writing challenge #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #nomad!steve rogers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #biker!bucky barnes #biker!bucky barnes x reader #johnny storm #johnny storm x original character #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #mob!bucky barnes x ofc #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!stever rogers #legolas x ofc #legolas

[flufftober]

Hello and welcome to our second annual Flufftober 🥳

We’re so excited to be back and to once again have you here!

Let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰

You’ll find the entire prompt list - as well as a list of prompt substitutes! - at the end of this post so you can easily copy/paste it all. But first:

Rules & FAQ

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gifsets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…)

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉

You can start writing and/or arting as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

NEW this year are our prompt substitutes! These are the five most loved prompts from the previous year, and you can use as many of them as you like instead of five prompts from the original list - or even in addition, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts as long as it’s separated into chapters and the respective chapter/work is posted on the given day.

You do not have to stick to one ship or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2022

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also add @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2022 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt substitute, instead of #day [xy] tag it as #alt 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection flufftober2022 or flufftober_2022 (yes, we've claimed both because so many people added to the wrong collection last year 😅)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like last year, reblogs will become less and less and further apart the more months pass...

Prompts

1. Wearing Each Other’s Clothes

2. “You’ve told your parents?”

3. Thick as Thieves

4. Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies

5. “Oh no, you’re a Morning Person!”

6. Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

7. Movie Marathon

8. Shooting Stars

9. Game Day (Sports)

10. Love Language

11. Poetry, Art, Music, Craft

12. “You kept this?”

13. Secret Family Recipe

14. Truth or Dare/20 Questions

15. Accidents don't just happen accidentally

16. “I hate you” – “I love you too”

17. Animal Shelter

18. Soulmate AU

19. Hot Chocolate

20. Bedtime Stories

21. Kiss for Good Luck

22. “Have you heard?”

23. POV Outsider

24. All the Hugs

25. First Dance

26. Blankets

27. Reunion

28. Picnic

29. Leaves

30. Dear Diary

31. A Sweet Treat

Prompt Substitutes

Last year, many of you asked for it, this year we're delivering 😊 introducing: Prompts Substitutes!

As explained in the rules, these can be used if there are prompts in the original list that you don't like for whatever reason. No need to explain or apologize for it, simply switch them with one of the five most loved prompts from last year. Or... you know... just add these five to your list of 31 prompts that want to be written 😉

Alt 1: Slow Dancing

Alt 2: Caught in the Rain

Alt 3: Falling Asleep Together

Alt 4: Up Against the Wall Kiss

Alt 5: Winning a Teddy for the Other

We hope you like these lists, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

#flufftober2022 #flufftober #event #prompt event #prompts #prompt challenge #fluff prompts #writing event #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #art #arting #open to all fandoms #open to anyone #open to all content creators #open to crossovers #writing challenge #art challenge #art event #feel free to spread the word #feel free to reblog

[stiltonbasket]

(Is this where you submit prompts? I really dont know ^^💧) Prompt for the renouncement au: I don’t know why i love when gossip is involved, so maybe something about people’s opinions on wangxian’s marriage and how it slowly changes to a better perspective to the point that anyone who doubts their feelings for each other gets immediately shut down. And you could add some juniors shenanigans to make wangxian have that good of a reputation because i miss them </3. Thank you for your time and effort! (And sorry if this is not the place for the prompts, i will submit it again if you say so ^^’ )

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Siyong considers himself one of the more moderate elders among the Lan sect. 

He has been close friends with Lan Qiren from childhood, and he saw Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up into the fine, upstanding men they are today. When the two of them were boys, he even had fond thoughts of attending their weddings, and watching them take on the most sacred of duties with glad, willing hearts. 

Learning that Xichen would never wed had been a disappointment, but Lan Siyong rallied again when Lan Qiren confided the reason why the boy rejected marriage—chastity in an upstanding cultivator was to be lauded, especially in an age where Jin Guangshan had once demanded such high respect, and there could still be children born to Lan Huan if he decided to cultivate them. And of course, Wangji was there, and Lan Siyong knew from the first that he would be the kind of youth to fall in love deeply, at first sight, and remain passionately devoted to his mingding zhiren until he drew his last breath. 

But then Lan Siyong had Wangji’s own sword turned upon him at the Burial Mounds, because the one that his many-times distant nephew loved so dearly was none other than Wei Wuxian. 

“Qiren,” he says hoarsely, when the lotus-scented wedding invitations arrive from Lotus Pier. “You cannot let this happen—an unrighteous cultivator, one who spurned orthodoxy without remorse and led Wangji down such a dangerous path—”

“What has been done has been done,” Lan Qiren replies. “We have sent the bridewealth, and the marriage was contracted between Xichen and Jiang-zongzhu. All their terms have been agreed upon, and the date set.”

And then, after a brief pause: “He makes Wangji happy.”

Lan Siyong nearly cries. He does not attend the wedding, for fear of shaming Wangji with the open despair that appears on his face whenever he sees Wei Wuxian, and sends the newlywed couple the most expensive gift he can afford in an effort to do something useful. 

Wei Wuxian is the one who writes him a letter in thanks. Lan Siyong almost has a qi deviation.

__

“You know,” one of the other elders mutters after the second wedding ceremony: namely, the ceremony held in the Cloud Recesses, since Jiang-zongzhu demanded that his brother should be married at Lotus Pier first. “Wei Wuxian refused to have a blessing for children spoken at the an chuang ceremony.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Haiyang says tranquilly. He stopped caring about practically everything after his son’s wife gave birth to the whirlwind that calls himself Lan Jingyi, so Lan Siyong has long since given up relying on him to fix any kind of sect turmoil. “And they already have two children. I have not seen a finer Lan disciple than Lan Sizhui in all my days.”

Lan Siyong is forced to concede this last. Wangji has two good children, even if the Yiling Patriarch is perhaps the most unsuitable person alive to raise them with him, and a couple’s choice to expand their family is up to them, and no others.

“He should at least have let the blessing be spoken, though.”

Lan Siyong does not disagree with this. Traditions are traditions, and surely even Wei Wuxian should know to respect them once in a while. 

__

“It’s worse than I thought,” Lan Siyong murmurs, on a summer afternoon about six weeks after Wangji’s wedding. He passed Haiyang’s grandson and his friends on his way to the refectory that morning, and heard them discussing how heartbroken Wangji had looked upon hearing that Wei Wuxian did not return his love. “I ought not to have eavesdropped, but—poor Wangji!”

“Poor Wangji what?” Lan Haiyang asks, as if their little Lan Zhan being in trouble was all in another day’s work to him. “What’s happened to him now?”

“Wei Wuxian disavows Wangji’s love at every opportunity,” he replies dismally, going over to the refreshment table to drown his woes in chestnut cake and tea. “I fear for him, Haiyang. To love for so long, and to wed his beloved, and have children with him, and still…”

Lan Haiyang snorts into his tea. 

“What do you mean by that?” demands Lan Siyong, more than a little offended. “Wangji is in distress! We must do something!”

His friend does not reply. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers what Wangji suffered for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Lan Siyong even tries raising the issue with Lan Qiren, and then with Xichen, but all he gets in return for his pains is a tray of fresh-baked red bean buns from the hanshi and another cryptic comment about Wangji’s supposed happiness from Qiren. 

Yet again, he is forced to leave his worries for another day, and try his best to follow rule three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two: that the affairs of a married couple should not be discussed by outsiders, even if they happen to be close, concerned family. 

Lan Siyong thinks his hair might be turning white by now.

__

And then, in early winter, Lan Siyong is roused from his bed one night and told that Wei Wuxian has gone missing. He joins the search party that Wangji leads, and follows him to a dark house in the woods with the Ghost General leading the way—and then he watches as Wangji kills at least a dozen men in an effort to reach his husband, whom they find unconscious in a cave beneath the house with corpse bites dotting every visible inch of his skin.

Lan Siyong nearly weeps as he hears Wangji’s desperate whispers to his beloved on the way back to Gusu, and watches him hold Wei Wuxian close while refusing help from anyone who offers.

Let him live, Lan Siyong prays silently, when Wei Wuxian is carried into the infirmary with Wangji at his side. Please, for Wangji’s sake, let Wei-gongzi live. 

__

“Qiren?”

A few days after the news about Wangji’s soon-to-be-born daughter is made public (public being a subjective word, since ceremony preceding the birth of a third child is unnecessary, and Wei Wuxian had said that he would rather wait until the baby arrives to make a formal announcement) Lan Siyong discovers Lan Qiren in one of the common rooms, sitting at a writing desk with his head buried in his hands. It’s a strange thing to see his friend do, since Lan Qiren has not looked so distressed since those three dark years after Wangji’s sentencing, and he hardly even looks up when Lan Siyong lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“It was just four weeks ago that Wei Ying was kidnapped and confined in that dungeon,” Lan Qiren says blankly, after he registers Lan Siyong’s presence and turns around to greet him. “If he—oh, heavens—”

Two weeks later, Lan Siyong requests a week’s leave from teaching to attend the trials of Wei Wuxian’s kidnappers, who are being held under Nie-zongzhu’s jurisdiction in the Unclean Realm. He has always believed himself to be a gentle man, but when the only sentences dealt are life imprisonment and execution, Lan Siyong’s heart is strangely devoid of any pity. All he can think of are the corpse bites he saw on Wei Wuxian’s face and throat, and a baby girl who nearly perished with her father before she had the chance to take her first breath. 

On his way back to the Cloud Recesses, he purchases a bolt of thick cream-colored silk with fine sky-blue embroidery and brings it to Wangji as a gift after the next monthly sect meeting.

“Xinhua-jun will need wider-cut robes before long,” he says, when his nephew gives him a curious glance before bowing low in thanks. “Zewu-jun has told us all that he and the child are in good health, and that the little one is growing well. All of our good wishes go with them both, and we pray that you should not hesitate to rely on us in the months to come if it should be needed.”

Wangji’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, San-shushu. It is much appreciated.”

__

Lan Siyong gets his first chance to hold Wei Shuilan at the baby’s full-moon ceremony, while Wangji and Wei Wuxian are running back and forth through the banquet hall to greet the arriving guests, and seize the first trusted elder they can reach to watch little A-Lan for a moment. At first, Lan Siyong merely stands by her cradle to keep an eye on her, but then she seems to sense her parents’ absence, so he picks her up and jogs her up and down to keep her from crying; and then he begins to hum softly beside her tiny ear, soothing the baby back to sleep by the time Wei Wuxian returns. 

“My good Lan-bao,” Wei Wuxian croons, cradling the child to his chest before rearranging her crumpled swaddling clothes. “Such a good baobei, to take your nap even with so much going on! Just like your A-Die, thank goodness, and not like your A-Niang.”

Curious, Lan Siyong clears his throat. “What do you mean, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “I never sleep properly at night, but Lan Zhan always falls asleep at hai shi, even if he isn’t in bed yet,” he says, with his voice so full of love for the newborn child in his arms and the husband who gave her to him that Lan Siyong feels strangely humbled. “A-Lan’s just like him that way.”

At that moment, Wangji appears with a plate of cut fruit and lotus cake before presenting it to Wei Wuxian. “Here, Wei Ying. Give A-Lan to me, and eat your lunch.”

“Lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “But we’re having the banquet in just an hour.”

“You have been having your luncheon at this time for the past six months,” Wangji says stubbornly. “I will not have you going hungry even for a minute, xingan.”

“Lan Zhan, sweetheart…”

Thank heaven they found each other again, Lan Siyong thinks, slipping away to find Lan Qiren with a rising lump of tears in his throat. I do not think anyone else could have ever made Wangji so happy.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #renouncement verse #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic #god this was long #BUT THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT ;_; #<3

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 3

Here's chapter three. I'll keep this short. Let me know what you think. If you like this chapter and want to be added to my tag list, please let me know. Reblogs are most welcome, it lets others view my work. Comments are even better, it lets me know I'm doing a good job-we all need validation once in a while.

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Violence, language, Poe being cute.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The cliffs are further than you originally thought. Your legs are cramping, throbbing. Poe lets you rest as long as he can but it’s still crucial to reach the elusive cliffs before dark.

He helps you over massive logs, crooked roots, down sharp hills. His hands are firm on your waist as he lifts you over fallen branches, they’re steady in yours as he helps you clamber over the gnarled roots.

He never once complains, never once tells you to get over it, never once makes you feel weak or useless. Every once in a while, he’ll glance over his shoulder at you, his pretty eyes lingering on your face for a second before smiling. You can feel his eyes on you as you stoop to gather the vegetation samples. He’s never intrusive, only giving his help when you request it.

“I’ve thought of another reason the bugs are so big.” You huff, hauling yourself over another massive branch.

“Tell me.” He wipes his forehead.

“The trees are so big, they’re pumping so much O2 into the air that the bugs can get big enough to take as much as they need in.”

“Come again?”

“Bugs have big tubes that intake oxygen through their skin to their organs, bypassing the need for lungs. In the places we’ve populated, the oxygen level is way down compared to this place. They’d die before the air ever gets to their organs.”

“How do you fit so much in that brain of yours?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes, clinging to his shoulders as he lifts you over another root.

Finally-finally, the base of the cliffs come into view and you let out a sigh of relief. The light is already getting dimmer, so you’re just barely in time. Then you take a second to look up at the sheer wall of rocks in front of you. It shoots straight up, higher than you can even see at this range. The edge disappears into the clouds and you know there’s no way you can climb to the top. You’ll have to find a way around.

But maybe, if there’s a natural cave system, the mechs can make a decent base inside.

You follow Poe along the wall, resisting the urge to drop your arms. Now that the end of your day is in sight, your shoulders feel tighter than ever after holding your holopad in front of you all day.

Up ahead. You can see the shadow darker than the rest surrounding it. Poe seems to already have spotted it, turning towards it. His head swivels around to glance at the forest behind you.

“How’s that gut, kid?” He tosses over his shoulder at you and you want to make a snide remark about being the same age. But you don’t.

“Hard to tell. Relieved at finding the cave. But.” You leave it hanging.

“But.” He agrees, turning towards the entrance of the cave. He digs into his bag, pulling out a torch. You take it from him, falling into step next to him.

“Poe,” you start, shining the light towards the back of the cave.

“We’ll just go back about two hundred feet, just to make sure it’s empty. Then we’ll camp at the entrance.” He promises, looking over at you. You nod and follow him back. The sharp pebbles littering the cave floor jab into the bottom of your feet, but complaining about it won’t do much good now.

Two hundred feet back and it’s clear, no bones, no signs of a nest. Good to camp in. Poe shoulders his long gun and turns towards you, taking your hand and leading you back to the mouth of the cave.

“I’ll go get some firewood, start setting up camp.” He says, squeezing your hand once before leaving the cave once more.

You glance nervously towards the darkness behind you, before starting to pull materials out of your bag. You manage to scrape out an even space for two sleeping bags and a campfire in the middle. You get the meal rations out just as he starts to come back with his muscular arms full of wood.

“Looks good.” He comments, dumping the hardwood off to the side. While he sets up the fire, your eyes are searching the trees across from the cave, the splintered shards of rock creating a beach almost, a boundary from the thick grass.

You can still hear the creaking and groaning from the trees. At some points, with the right echo, it’s almost as if they’re alive. The trees sound as though they’re moving, waking up as the last of the light disappears. The constant groans during the day were just them shifting in their sleep, now they’re ready to move.

Did they sense the presence of two tiny beings crawling around them? Are they coming for you now? Or are you too minuscule in comparison and therefore not worth the hassle?

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Poe asks, looking up from the crackling fire.

“What if the trees are alive?” You ask worriedly and he laughs, pushing himself to come over and stand behind you.

“Okay, you’re way too tense. The trees aren’t alive. The wind is picking up out there, I think the temperature is about to drop. It’s natural for wood to expand and contract as it shifts. And if they are alive? Well, they’re too fucking tall to get us in here. I didn’t cut any trees to get this wood, just picked up what was scattered around.” He promises, those big, warm hands settling on your shoulders. You tense at the sudden touch, but it’s Poe-he's not going to hurt you. He would never hurt you.

“I might be a little uptight.” You admit sheepishly.

“It’s all the lack of orgasming.” He teases.

You open your mouth to fire back, but then his thumbs press deliciously into the flesh of your back and shoulders, and you’re cut off with a strangled moan. He squeezes, and then drags his thumbs up towards your hairline, your head dropping forward onto your chest and electric arcs race along your spine. He alternates his thumbs, pushing in and stroking upward on either side of your spinal column. Heat spirals through you as he slowly, methodically works all the tight muscles out of your back and shoulders. All the stress from worrying, all the aches from carrying the heavy pack and your holopad all day.

“Poe-“ you groan and he chuckles, guiding you forward to lay face down on your sleeping bag.

“Relax. We’ll eat in a minute.” He says softly, his breath ghosting across the back of your neck. His hands are strong, manipulating your flesh to get all the knots out along your back. He uses his knuckles to work out the taut muscles between your shoulder blades, easing the tension out of the bands of overworked, under appreciated tissue. He drags his fingertips up into your scalp and the stretch of it is heavenly. He squeezes the tightly wound muscles at the base of your neck and it sends tingles all the way down your spine as your breath comes out in a woosh.

Your eyes drift closed, drowning in the feel of it. He slowly works his way down the outside on your arms, getting all the sore muscles and you have to roll your face into your blanket to stifle the noise. To his immense credit, he doesn’t say anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed. He just keeps working until you’re a boneless mess in front of him. His hands grip your open ones down by your hips as he pauses.

“I’d offer to massage your legs, but even I know that’s too far.” He says teasingly and it’s probably a good call. But then he mumbles something under his breath, a little too quiet for you to hear properly, but it almost sounds like “I know my own limits.”

You start to push yourself up, but he stops you. “I never said I was done. Your feet must be killing you if mine are any indication.”

“You’re not wrong.” You mumble, laying back down. You shift and roll over onto your back, feeling your spine release the last bit of tension and it cracks as you exhale fully.

He eases your boots off and you flex your toes, trying to prepare for the inevitable tickling as soon as he touches you. He grips your ankle, all firm touches as he sits and pulls your foot onto his knee.

He glances at your face, which holds some kind of look of distress. “Don’t worry, I remember. I’m not looking to get kicked in the mouth again.” He grins, easing your apprehension once more.

“Why are you so good at this?” You sigh, resting your head back.

“At massages? I’ve had lots of practice.” He says casually.

You snort, having no doubt. “I meant all of it, dummy. Being isolated like this, you’re not afraid, you’re not losing your mi-iiind.” You gasp as he digs his first knuckle into the heel of your foot.

“You’re not losing your mind.” He laughs, dragging it up through your arch, adding more pressure so it won’t tickle. “And I’m okay with it because of you.” He adds. “You said that the bugs are big because they don’t have to be fast for survival. So, honestly, we’re probably the most dangerous things here.”

“So, why am I all jittery?” You ask, toes flexing as he presses his thumbs into your arch. Maker, it feels good.

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t trust me to have your back?” He says, and you know it’s a joke. He would never believe that, so you roll your eyes.

“You are such a jerk. I take it back. You’re the absolute worst.” You huff and he grins.

“You tell me, Y/N. What’s making you so on edge? Why are you so nervous? Don’t sugar coat or rationalize.” He prompts.

You think for a long minute. “The trees creaking? It’s always behind us. Never once has it come from in front of you. It’s always behind me. Sometimes, I felt like something was coming up behind us, not a butterfly or anything. But I’d turn around and there was nothing there, nothing I could see, anyway. And when we would stop for water, or because of my weak ass legs, I would feel eyes on me. Something was watching us, it felt wrong and dangerous. Predatory. Even though we might be the only sentient beings on this planet, I don’t think we’re the most dangerous. It doesn’t feel that way.” You shake your head.

He’s quiet for a long time, working out the arches of your foot. “Alright. We’ll stick together. No going off on your own to take a leak, or get some pretty flowers. If you go, I go. Understand? If you’re that freaked out, or sensing something that strongly, we stay together.” He says, meeting your eyes.

“Deal.” You agree. He finishes with your feet and you push yourself up, gesturing for him to lay down.

“What?” He asks.

“Your turn. Fair is fair, and you know I’m good at it.” You remind him and he chuckles, laying down for you. You straddle the back of his thighs as he lays face down on your sleeping bag and you start with the thickly corded muscles in his back. You work slowly, being just as methodical as he was. By the time you get to the base of his scalp with his thick, luscious dark hair, his breathing has evened out and it’s shallow. If he’s not already asleep, he will be soon. You work out the tension in his hands, spreading the tight muscles with the pads of your thumbs. He makes a soft noise and you smile down at him, brushing his soft hair out of his eyes.

You shift down to his feet, easing his shoes off, working the heels and arches until his soft snores reach you. You chuckle to yourself and lean over him, pressing a kiss to his big shoulder as you take his rifle and go to sit by the door of the cave for the first watch.

He sleeps for a while, the massage clearly helps. You eat your food while you watch the night bugs float by. They’re huge, but thankfully don’t seem interested in you. About halfway through the night, Poe jerks awake with a start, looking around.

“Over here.” You call, pushing yourself up.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep.” He mumbles, wiping his eyes before pulling you into a hug. You rest your head on his chest for a moment, listening to his heart, strong and steady, as he’s always been.

“Well, it would hardly be fair for me to lull you to sleep and then wake you up to take the first watch.” You grin. “Besides, you needed sleep.”

He pulls back and cups your face gently. “You okay?” He asks. That’s what you love about Poe, he’s never been shy. If he wants to touch you, he will. Holding hands, hugs, pushing your arm, guiding you through a crowd. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t particularly care for your boyfriend, or maybe that’s just who he is as a person. But you like the honesty of it. He’s never changed a part of himself to suit anyone else.

“Yeah. I didn’t shoot any bugs by accident.” You shrug and he grins.

“That’s my girl, keeping it together one thread at a time.” He teases and you laugh, dropping your head forward.

“Go get something to eat. I’m gonna go use the little girl’s tree and then get some sleep myself.” You yawn, handing him the gun back.

“Did you forget what I said already?” He rolls his eyes. “If you go, I go.” He nudges you towards the entrance. “Go pee. And then I can get food.”

“It's right there.” You complain.

“What if I’m over there, stuffing my face, and you’re over here with your pants down, and some bat the size of a bantha carries you off into the night? How am I supposed to make it back to the ship?”

“So, you’re admitting you’re useless without me?” You tease and he searches your eyes for a minute before straightening and walking past you, shoulders brushing softly.

“Yes.” He adds and you pump your fists in triumph, turning to follow him. He leads you to the nearest tree, and waits on the side facing the cave while you walk into the dark shadows. Admittedly, you’re much less brave now. It’s so dark, neither of the planet’s two moons are visible behind the cloud cover. The only light is from Poe’s flashlight.

You quickly unbuckle your pants and lean back against the tree, nerves rattled. Your bladder freezes, refusing to relax.

“What’s the hold up?” He asks.

“You’re listening.” You mutter, trying to coax it out by repeatedly tensing and relaxing your muscles.

“Seriously? Now you have stage fright? It’s not like I haven’t heard you go before.” He reminds you and you cover your face with a groan. Shit, he’s right. Just fucking do it.

“Can you just… like… five steps, that’s all I’m asking.” You please and he grumbles but stomps loud enough for you to hear him walk away. It takes another second, but finally, you go. Peeing against a tree is hard work when you have a vagina.

You take care of your business and buckle up, walking back around the tree to find Poe exactly where you left him, having not walked away at all. “Dirty, rotten trickster.” You mutter and he slings his arm around your shoulders.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m not answering you. Good night.” You huff and turn to leave him at the entrance, before you pause and turn back. You quickly kiss his cheek and mumble a quick “eat something,” before walking away completely. The kiss was unprompted, and probably not very professional, but he very easily could have made you feel crazy earlier and didn’t.

You settle down on your sleeping bag in front of the fire, a chill sweeping through you. It’s not cold outside, but it could just be from being still for so long.

After a minute, you can hear him rustling through his bag and then the fire gets warmer in front of you. You smile and drift into unconsciousness.

In your dream, Poe is talking to you. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying, his words are muffled, and every once in a while, the crackling from the fire drowns him out. But his words are soft and gentle. His eyes are looking at your sleeping form, warm and melted chocolate in the light of the flames.

You move, ghost like, towards the opening, drawn to something outside. But the outside isn’t the same. There aren’t any trees as tall as the buildings on Coruscant. There’s white walls, smooth black floors; cold-sterile. A door hisses open to your right and you’re sucked through like a vacuum. This room is all black, red lights dot the walls sporadically and there are two uncomfortable looking contraptions in the middle, tables with metal straps, but upright and facing each other.

The floor drops out from under you and there are two men fighting with lightsabers, one a wicked looking double edged red blade, the other an elegant, cool blue. The one with the red saber, his face is horrifying, red and black streaks down his face and dangerous horns protruding from his bald head. The other man is young, short reddish hair, cream colored robes. They’re fighting for their lives around a massive return tunnel in the center of the floor.

A big gust of wind blows you down the tunnel and you cry out, rolling to a stop in the middle of the trees. You don’t know where you are, all the giant landscape looks the same. Your heart is pounding wildly as you turn around. Something is definitely alive, definitely evil.

As you turn, you spot your best friend, your partner, your commander. He’s fighting someone. You can’t see who, they’re just a dark shape-an outline. “Poe!” You cry out, trying to move through the dense foliage to get to him, to help him!

The shadowy figure pulls a knife out of thin air and plunges it into Poe’s chest, dead center. His warm brown eyes flick over to you as you scream, the earth trembling with your anger. The shadowy figure pulls the knife slowly from his chest and then stabs it up through his jaw, into his soft palate, piercing his brain. You scream, feeling your entire being shake apart at the molecular level, dispersing into the wind as Poe slumps to the ground, unmoving.

Chapter Four

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[monsoonblooms12]

Bittersweet (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: OH Book 1 Chapter 4 written from Dolores Hudson's POV

A/N: I really wanted to do this because Dolores is such an amazing person and this chapter is one of my favourites in the entire OH series. This picks up from the office fire and ends at Dolores's death.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤍

Characters: Dolores Hudson, Ethan Ramsey, f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Pooja Sharma (f!MC)

Word Count: around 2.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff then Angst

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters and some of the dialogues. I only own my MC.

Triggers: Complications in pregnancy, Few Curse Words, Character Death

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 23: Classic/Classical

Other Works

Clickety-clack!

Dolores's fingers danced on the keyboards in a swift motion as she strived to complete this last email and get home and have a sleep that she missed yesterday due to late-night cravings.

Around her, a chaos of whispers spread as her colleagues engaged in mindless chitter-chatter of the last hour before the end of the office day.

A few nudges of Hey, Dolores! and its variants reached her, but she steered past them, focusing completely on her work.

Just one more line anndd,

Done!

She hit the send and the ping of the 'sent' notification calmed her overworked nerves.

Come on, Lil tadpole, let's file these papers, get ice cream and go home.

She fondly rubbed her belly. 26 weeks in and yet the fact that she was going to become Mamma Froggy was overwhelming and exciting.

She got the prints and in a hurry, nearly got a paper cut.

Careful there! She cajoled herself and started filing those messy sheets of her hard work of the day.

She was almost done just as-

Waaahhh!

The blazing sound, very much like a siren's, reached all of them, leading to the eruption of panicked commotion between all of them.

They had been run through the fire drill so many times that they didn't need to be told that it was a fire alarm.

Dolores left all her possessions, carrying only her bag with the stuffed froggy she had bought for her baby and tried to run.

But being pregnant doesn't make it very easy. Even more, if there was a fucking fire at the place.

People went haywire. Very few cared about the fact that she was carrying a baby, and they should have the minimum decency to help. Most would selfishly try to save themselves, not giving a damn about anyone.

Dolores tried to pave a way for reaching the elevator. It was nearly impossible for her to get down the stairwell in time to save herself from the hazardous situation. She could see that most of the people had already evacuated.

Why was the fire department not here yet?

The fire was ablaze, surroundings hot, and amidst all, Dolores walked slowly, worried only about her little tadpole and not herself.

She pressed the buttons of the elevator. Waited. But nothing budged.

Fuck it!

Smoke engulfed her and she felt suffocated. All through the light-headedness, she could faintly hear, the siren of the ambulance. She hoped someone would save her from this fiery hell.

But there was no one to help her. No one around. The building burnt and if she did not think of something quickly, she would burn with it as well.

Not viewing any other options, she screamed with as much strength she could garner. Once, Twice, Thrice.

The next actions happened quicker than the blink of an eye. She saw a handsome EMT rush towards her. Even though she was already in a blazing environment, she couldn't stop the he's hot reflex of her brain cells. He came to her and reassured her that he would be able to save her and her baby, picked her up, and slowly, yet swiftly, got out of there.

Just like a superhero.

She thought of telling this story of Super-Man coming to save him and his Mama to her baby and the thought made her giggle.

Her head was light, and she felt choked, but her mind would keep going to the little angel of her womb, worrying only for him.

The last she remembers was reaching the ambulance and coughing vigorously. She couldn't breathe normally. She tried and failed miserably. A slow sensation of blacking out and after that, everything blank.

After who knows how long, Dolores feels the glare of white lights around her giving her eyes a painful competition to open up. She squints, tiredness spreading through her body. From office work or the life-threatening experience? She does not know.

She slowly, very slowly, tries to sit up, her hand on her belly, tenderly stroking it, as if to let the child know that his Mamma would not let any harm come to him. Nurses check in on her, one of them replacing the oxygen mask with a nose tube, and she felt a bit more relaxed.

As she was taking in the surroundings, she realized,

Edenbrook!

Coming back here after so many years brought back many memories. The first time she came here. Oh, how panicked she was! She was getting jitters but that calm and brilliant doctor took care of her, not only inside the hospital but also outside it.

Dr Ethan Ramsey.

He still worked here, he had told her in his last email. I need to meet him! She thought.

When was the last time they had met? In that coffee shop last year, right? It had been long.

She traced the name she had thought for her tadpole over and over again on her belly as if to make him memorize it before coming here to her, and looked around.

There was a minimum difference between the room she had been kept in the first time and the one in which she was now, but the time gap made her feel everything was new.

All of a sudden the door swayed, letting in a young doctor and,

Ethan!

She was genuinely excited about seeing him. Of all the possibilities, she hadn't really considered the fact that he would be coming to treat her. He has important cases to take care of than petty smoke inhalation, right?

A frown appears on his forehead. "What did you get yourself into this time, Dolores?"

His stern tone is the tough layer of a walnut, which hid his soft corner, the concerned heart. She smiled at the realization.

She quickly filled him in with all the details. The fire. The hot superman. The baby. Everything.

She finds the young doctor's surprise about Ethan having friends amusing. The look of surprise she had on her face was priceless.

But when the doctor asked her,

"Was Dr Ramsey always so mean?" she guards her mouth using her hand, "And so handsome?"

It was Dolores's turn to be shocked. She knew just how much Ethan hated interns. He used to whine about how stupid they were all the time to her, online & offline. And here was this intern, having enough courage to ask her such a question in front of him.

Impressive!

"This man's definitely got grouchier than before, but even then he had an edge"

"And as for handsome, I think he has aged like a fine wine" Dolores winked and Ethan fumbled for words.

When he got his tone back, it was strict.

No matter what anyone else thought, Dolores knew the real Ethan. The one without his rough and tough exterior and mean demeanour.

And that Ethan, if he ever came out, would make everyone fall in love with him.

As the doctors mumbled between themselves, she looked around, searching for something.

Umm Hmm. She couldn't see it.

"Excuse me Doctor Sharma" Both of them turned to look at her. "I remember having my bad when the hunk brought me out. Did they bring it here?" She asks, anxiety on its borderline, ready to burst out.

She needed it. Very Much.

Dr Sharma looks around for a bit, carefully conscious eyes trained to spot abnormalities. Her eyes, soon enough, fall on the side table of the bed and she picks the purse up and hands it over to Dolores.

Another frantic search follows. She turns all the contents up and down, her happy demeanour replaced with a visible frown.

It's not here, she says, evidently panicked.

A sadness spreads on her face.

"I must have dropped it in the office" She is on the verge of crying.

Dr Sharma places a kind hand on her shoulder. What Happened? Her questioning eyes wordlessly ask.

Dolores sighs, "It probably sounds stupid but I saw this adorable little frog on my lunch break and had to get it for my little tadpole."

"My parents are gone and the father's not in the picture." She adoringly places a hand on her swollen belly, "I just want everything to be perfect for him."

Dr Sharma gives her shoulder a gentle push of reassurance, and adds, "It's not stupid Dolores, absolutely not. I feel like you're going to be a great mom."

Her words make Dolores smile despite the upsetting circumstances, "Thank You. I- I just wished I hadn't lost it."

She stays lost in the thoughts and daydreams of her little tadpole playing with his first gift, growing ever more upset with every passing second.

"I and Dr Ramsey will find it for you!" Dr Sharma's excited tone jolts her out of her thoughts.

She is surprised first and slowly a smile appears, "Really Ethan? You would do that for me?"

He hesitates.

"Erm- Yes, sure." He fumbles.

"Dr Sharma, let's get this urine sample to the lab first. I will meet you in the lot in ten minutes."

Relieved and Happy, Dolores exclaims, "I am 26 weeks pregnant, Ethan. Not gonna take 10 minutes to make me pee!"

And in 15 minutes, they take her urine sample away and bid adieu with a promise of bringing her token of love for her tadpole back.

She was extremely grateful for Dr Sharma. She doubted if Ethan had given in the first time if it had not been her taking initiative.

Wait a Minute.

Ethan Ramsey listened to an intern? That too, in the first time itself? The observation blew her mind.

She recounted the time he had called her to his home to give a dinner treat. Lovely memories of a different face of the man came to her mind like the waves reaching the shore, one after the other.

"Mmm... Ethan, this is delicious!" Dolores found herself falling deeply in love with this masterpiece of Georgian stuffed chicken.

"Thank You, but it wouldn't have got done without your help" Ethan was never the type to take credit. Boast, Huh? What's that?

That's what she liked the most about him. A fine, handsome man, talented without bounds, a successful doctor having shitloads of money and a chef. He was a complete package and yet seemed to be subtly unaware of it.

They chatted about everything from opera to music to their first meet. It was a jolly time.

That is, until, the conversation landed on romance.

"So, seeing anyone?"

"No, not currently." He blushes a bit.

"Imagine" Dolores leans back on her chair, stretching her legs, "if, I said if, you fell in love with," she pauses to look at his curious face, "an intern?"

"Impossible."

It came even before she had finished the word. Dolores was amused.

"Just imagine!"

"I don't want to waste time imagining something as implausible as that. Can we talk about something else please?"

And here he was today, listening to an intern, a different demeanour than usual. Not that it was love, yet, but there was something.

Was he impressed by her?

He talked differently, listened patiently to the young doctor. That Ethan Ramsey who would not stand with an intern for 5 minutes, listened to one?

Anyone who knew him would laugh off the fact and say it was a joke.

Dolores made sure that if it happens, the falling in love with an intern, she will not let Ethan see the end of it. Teasing him to annoyance, yes that's what she would do.

She turned on some soft classical music on her phone, spreading an instant calm and dozed off for a while...

She gets up with a start on the sound of the door opening. She rubs her eyes to get a better view of the people in front of her.

It was Ethan and Dr Sharma!

She looked at them and yes! there it was, her tadpole's froggy.

She was overjoyed.

"You got it!" Dolores breaks into a grin as the sterilized frog is given to her.

"Happy now?" Ethan asks, the faintest glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Yes, very, very, much! Thank you so much, Ethan."

She pulls Dr Sharma into a small hug, "You too Dr Sharma, thank you!"

"Of course, Dolores." The young woman's beautiful face gleams at her, "and you can call me Pooja."

After few minutes of chit chat, Pooja leaves to get Dolores's reports.

"Switch on the TV Ethan, it's boring to sit here and do nothing."

"You know you can do better things than watching stupid TV shows?"

"I am doing it because I want to. The least who can do is help me." She shrugs.

"Fine, fine."

After going on a roundabout tour of the various broadcasted shows, they settled to watch a comedy.

Soon Ethan's stoicism got lost in the wilds and he started laughing along with her.

All the while Dolores held the Froggy affectionately to her tummy, to her little tadpole, as if to show it to him and ask if he likes it.

Amidst all the laughs, the medical reports are completely forgotten until there's a soft knock on the door and Ethan looks at someone from the corner of his eye and go out to meet them.

Still, she remains blissfully unaware of her health conditions and basks in the moments of delight she gets alone with her tadpole.

Her eyes remain glued to the TV screen until the doctors come in and from the morbid faces they wore, she knew that the reports were anything but good.

She switches off the TV.

"What is it? Ethan?"

Pooja steps forward, "I want you not to worry, Dolores."

She feels a mild panic attack bursting inside her, "T-That's what people say when there is something to be worried about. Is my tadpole okay?"

Pooja sighs, "Have you heard of preeclampsia? It's a disease affecting one out of ten pregnant women. In most cases, it is manageable, if monitored properly. But in your case-"

She pauses. And Dolores knows that whatever's coming will not be hopeful.

"It's serious."

Dolores quickly asks, "How serious?"

Not too much. Not too much. Please, god, not too much. She crosses her fingers.

"The blood flow to the placenta is slowing. It could deprive your baby of vital nutrients and oxygen."

With his morbid mask matching his melancholy tone, Ethan says, "Your baby is at risk."

Shit.

"B-But I can still feel the baby kicking!" She urges them to come and feel for themselves.

"Dolores it just means the delivery needs to be done early."

"Impossible." Dolores remarks with a deadly determination. "It's too soon."

"Babies delivered at 26 weeks have a good chance of survival." Dr Sharma tries to convince her.

"A-A chance?"

She is not going to play a game of chances with her beloved tadpole, her little jewel.

They keep convincing her.

"Yes he'll have to spend some time in the N.I.C.U and there are chances of post-birth complications-"

"And some don't make it at all. Is my baby is in danger now?" She asks with a motherly force.

"No, not immediately. But-" Ethan is on his tracks to convince her again.

"Then my little tadpole is staying put."

"Dolores—"

"No, Ethan! Just...give me some time! As long as you can give me. Please" It is a request from her heart, and she is on the verge of tears.

"I give you tonight. To come back to your senses."

When they leave, Dolores cries, caressing her belly, her little tadpole in there. She cannot take a risk with his goddamn life, never ever.

Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds the stuffed frog even tighter to herself, praying to god for his magical abilities and to save her baby.

Please.

She fell asleep while crying. When she wakes up, she finds a few unknown nurses and doctors standing there.

She tries to speak but cannot form words. Her head feels light, just like it did in the office building. She could not sense anything, swallowing was trouble.

She makes random sounds and the people come rushing to her, just as her body breaks into violent convulsions.

"We need to take her to the surgery, QUICK!"

They call for a code blue and everything that happens following that is a haze to her.

They are rushing her to the surgery. Her body shakes vigorously, and she can feel that she doesn't have much time left.

She holds the doctor's hand who was rushing her to the O.R.

"N-nam-me him-m E-Ethan."

And with that, she slowly spirals down the realm of unconsciousness, the last thought to ever strike her mind was,

Little tadpole, mamma loves you. You will be okay. Mamma will always be there with you, for you.

And with that her breath leaves her body, the last tear dropping on the O.R. bed.

As Ethan Hudson sees the light of his new life, Dolores passes away into the darkness.

I love you little tadpole.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🤍.

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @mercury84choices @udishaman @jamespotterthefirst

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#pixelberry choices #playchoices #open heart #choices stories you play #choices open heart #choices oh #choices stories we play #choices #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan x pooja #pooja sharma #dolores hudson #tw pregnancy complications #tw character death #tw curse words #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021 #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #cfwc fics of the week #my fanfics✒ #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #choices oph #open heart ethan #oph book club #oph book 1

[kitsu-katsu]

On kiribaku becoming canon and their evidence:

So I posted this on reddit earlier, but wanted to have it here where more KRBK shippers are, since I just ended up compiling a lot more than I thought I would.

Fair warning: A pretty big text with a compilation of kiribaku moments ahead.

We would all love kiribaku being canon, and I think it's not as much of a longshot as some may lead you to believe.

Honestly, if one of them was a girl, this would most certainly be canon, like, just in the anime we have:

Them becoming friends slowly in the background, leaving us with good development between them that is so seamless it can hit you hard once you notice how close they've become if you hadn't noticed before.

Them arriving and leaving the pool together while walking in the sunset.

They support and compliment each other (both on personality and quirks, like come on).

Kirishima can just lean on Bakugou or side hug him all the time and Bakugou lets him with no problem, which considering who we're talking about is a pretty big thing.

Kirishima can seem even more agitated than Deku about Bakugou being taken, and Deku is the one who idolized him since childhood.

The whole "It has to be you" thing and the precious hand holding (including that little scene after the rescue, where Kiri tries to grab Baku's hand again).

Kirishima bought expensive night vision googles in case they were useful for the rescue even though they had Yaomomo with them (this boy goes through extremes just to ensure his boyfriend's best friend's safety)

Kirishima is officially the one Bakugou considers an equal, and considering his conflicting inferiority and superiority complexes (making him perpetually place people as above him or beneath him) is vital information.

Kirishima is esentially Bakugou's first real friend (as Deku was considered more of an incomprehensible nuisance and his childhood troop seemed more like his followers who just put him up on a pedestal and followed what he did).

Kirishima has jumped in front of danger for Bakugou's sake quite a bit of times (including a time in the movie).

Kirishima is a central piece in Bakugou's character development.

Bakugou was the one who told Kirishima he was strong and gave him his confidence back, reminding him of what he said at the start of their friendship.

Kirishima unlocked fucking UNBREAKABLE because of Bakugou's encouragement.

Going to extra stuff:

Bakugou's favourite hobbie is hiking, and we're shown he takes Kirishima with him sometimes, thing he doesn't seem to do with other characters.

The whole festival thing, with the narrator outright assuming Bakugou must have given his coat to a pretty girl who was cold, only for it to be revealed in another picture that he gave it to Kirishima because as usual, he didn't have a shirt on.

On the movie Bakugou could have taken anyone to I-Island and took Kirishima as his plus one. They share a room. Kirishima bought suits for both of them, with the most detailed one with white roses being for Bakugou, and they decide to go to the party together.

In a BNHA Smash connected directly to the movie, Midoriya notices the white roses in Bakugou's suit and notes that they mean deep respect and "I'm the one for you", which prompts Bakugou to send an explosion his way (not to Kirishima who gave him the suit, mind you), which makes the flowers turn red (from blood), after which Mineta appears to say that red roses mean "beautiful and passionate love".

They are usually seen together in merch stuff.

There's this tumblr post talking about japanese fan's reactions to one of Horikoshi's drawings which I find at least hilarious:

https://exbrodokills.tumblr.com/post/187710597637/here-it-is

There are discussions regarding Kirishima's character sheet and the translation of him liking "tough guys" (here's a podt by aitaikimochi explaining the meaning of the translation: https://www.google.com/amp/s/aitaikimochi.tumblr.com/post/171127708911/amp) where even translator such as aitaikimochi have gotten into, and they have mentioned that there's a japanese stereotype of a type of gay guy who is obsessed with "manly behaviour" and usually stay away from women, prefering tough guys instead, which is interesting to say the least.

Some of the light novel episodes which show more slice of life moment feature some good kiribaku moments, with a prominent one being this one wich details their study date (it seriously seems like fan fiction, not even kidding, and this is supposed to be sort of canon):

https://www.google.com/amp/s/aitaikimochi.tumblr.com/post/171236111166/amp

Also there's a chapter where Kirishima tells Fatgum about Bakugou being extremely happy, and another one where they are arm wrestling between classes and they cheer for one another heavily.

(Honesly, just go through aitaikimochi's whole kiribaku tag, there are some pretty interesting things there)

Here are some analysis on their possible coding, if you guys are interested:

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1dxO6Y0yK_wxOJDmRsBYvsVWKwsH7tKc92skxJ--R1m4/edit?usp=drivesdk

(Bakugou's one link can be found at the end of that one)

And in BNHA Smash, there are quite a lot of things, and we must not forget that the whole thing still gets approved by Horikoshi before being published, some of my favourite things are:

Kirishima inviting Bakugou to spend christmas together, with the translators noting christmas in Japan to be a romantic holiday in the same panel.

In one issue, Jirou falls for Kiri and him being oblivious just leaves her for Bakugou.

Once Bakugou becomes a shoujo boy after being his with a quirk and just involuntarily talks in flirt, and in one moment Kirishima outright flirts back.

Bakugou works his ass off to repay Kirishima for the night vision googles they used in the rescue.

Kirishima is literally described as the chicken soup for Bakugou's soul!

An interesting thing I found out is that in the chapter where all of 1A minus Bakugou turn into animals, one scene originally had Kirishima (as a dog) getting jealous of Kaminari and Midoriya petting Tsuyu (as a cat - yes I know, a cat) and giving all their attention to her, however, Horikoshi himself changed that scene, noting he didn't think their character relations worked well in that scene, and made it so that the one that ended up in smash contains Kirishima (as a dog) getting jealous because Todoroki (as a koala) has climbed up Bakugou's torso and won't let go. I saw this all in a tumblr post a few months ago, which showed the original scene in a book (I think it was in italian and was translates below) but I can't currently find the link, sorry, if someone finds it, It'd be appreciated if you could reblog with said link.

And in regards to meta stuff, the show already has some LGBT characters in it, with Magne and Tiger being trans and Toga being bisexual, so it's not as much of a lost cause to hope for this as it would initially seem.

(Please kirimina shippers, don't take offence because of this, it isn't my intention to insult your ship, I simply want to analize what has been given to us, so please try to take this lightly):

We should also take into consideration Krishima's first version in the sort of "beta" for the manga (where Midoriya was Yamikumo).

His character sheet mentions he's quite the delinquent and entered UA to impress a girl. Obviously his character evolved tremendously since then, but the girl was most probably intended to be Mina's equivalent. This was later changed to him liking "tough guys"/"hard liners" and his thing with Mina became more of an "I admired your bravery and heroic spirit when in middle school even if I hardly knew you", later seeing each other and establishing more of a little friendship. However, it hasn't really moved further from there, and Kirishima has already established much stronger bonds with our favourite exploding boy. All changes in characters are made for a reason, and Horikoshi clearly changed his mind on Kirishima's motives for wanting to be a hero and his relationship with Mina.

So yeah, all in all, this ship is great, it's precious, adorable, helps both characters grow, is balanced and has good chemistry. So even if after all these things they don't become officially canon, we still have so much canon material for them in the present I'd honestly still be happy, these dorks make me smile and melt my heart, so I hope they both have good endings.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #bnha kirishima #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #ship #otp #krbk #bakugou katsuki #eijirou kirishima #analysis #canon moments #i just love them both #love them so much #best boys

[diakkoday]

It’s that time again! The Diakko community is once again uniting to celebrate our favourite little gay witches, and this time, we’re hoping it’s gonna be even bigger and better than last year!

February 1st is an opportunity for all fans of Diakko to post fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, videos, edits, or anything else you can think of focused on Diakko!

We’ve provided some answers to common questions below, but if you have anything else you want to ask, don’t hesitate to send us a message here, or on Twitter.

We’d also like to extend a huge thanks to @commieakko​ for her fantastic art to kick off our countdown hype!

How do I participate?

Participating is simple! All you need to do is post whatever Diakko work you create on February 1st, and tag it as #DiakkoDay2022! Tagging this account also makes it easier for us to find your work and share it, and tagging it #diakko, #dianakko, and #LittleWitchAcademia makes it easier for other Diakko fans to find and enjoy your work!

We’ll also be sharing everything over on Twitter! We’ll be using the same #DiakkoDay2022 hashtag, and we also suggest using #Diakko, #LWA_jp, and #ダイアコ on Twitter. Last year, we got plenty of submissions from beyond the English-speaking fandom, so using the internationally recognised hashtags can help spread your work and the event far and wide!

Is there a theme? Are there any rules?

There’s no theme, you can submit whatever you like! This is simply a day to celebrate Diakko!

That said, we won’t be reblogging or retweeting NSFW content. For writers, this means your fic or chapter needs to be rated T or G. For artists, that means no boobs, genitalia, blood/gore, BDSM themes or similar. If you’re not sure if your work falls under these rules, please feel free to shoot us a DM on either Tumblr or Twitter!

Additionally, we would request that writers send us only one fic chapter or oneshot that they wish to be shared. Artists may send collages or comics with multiple images if they so wish, but we’d ask that you send them as a single post to make sharing them easier, thank you!

Why February 1st?

According to the timeline outlined in The Little Witch Academia Chronicles book, the finale of Little Witch Academia most likely takes place on February 1st. And what better day to celebrate Diakko than the day the two of them saved the world! And held hands! In space!

Also no one can prove they didn’t kiss after the camera panned away, OK?

Is this connected to Diakko Week? Why Diakko Day?

Because most ships, especially anime ships, have popular days to celebrate them in their fandoms! These are often fun dates, like combining the two characters’ favourite numbers, or the canonical day they met, so the community figured Diakko needed one too! The great number of submissions last year would seem to agree, and we can’t wait to see what you all have for us this year!

Diakko Week is a separate event that occurs in the summer. Some of the folks involved in organising Diakko Week are also part of the team for Diakko Day (they say hi!), but the two events are distinct (hence our lack of prompts), united primarily by our desire to celebrate our favourite witches.

Is there any way I can get more involved? I’d love to meet more folks from the Diakko community!

Aside from commenting and sharing each other’s posts on the day, you can also join our Discord! Simply add our admin esn#1339 and ask about joining the Little Gay Witches! Our community is primarily writers and artists for Diakko and other LWA and wider WLW fandoms, but we have plenty of fans who enjoy hanging out (and yelling at their favourite writers to update more often).

And that should be everything! Please don’t hesitate to send us an ask if you have any questions, and we’re looking forward to seeing your submissions on February 1st!

#diakko #dianakko #lwa #Little Witch Academia #diana cavendish #akko kagari #atsuko kagari #Diakko Day #diakkoday2022