#PLEASE TELL ME SOMEBODY ELSE SEES MY VISION!!!!

[sassypantsjaxon]

Okay, so we learned from one of the light novels that Mic and Aizawa did a haunted house for their school festival back when they were students

Okay, now look at this iconic post

Please tell me somebody else sees my vision

#bnha #my hero academia #bnha school briefs #present mic #eraserhead #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #first year mic who has not yet hit his growth spurt+also first year Aizawa who's voice has already dropped #PLEASE TELL ME SOMEBODY ELSE SEES MY VISION!!!! #source: last chapter of the fourth light novel #and i have the full haunted house post linked

[dcbatbitches]

Consider, Cassandra Cain does lion dance.

#a combination of martial arts and dance to express storytelling? #little kids going crazy at performances? #please tell me somebody else sees the vision #she would love playing with the crowd #and especially crazy tricks #cassandra cain #batgirl #orphan #black bat #lion dance #also shhhh its completely inconspicuous wayne brand bat merch bc you know...batman and bruce wayne are dating #I ship bruciebat #dc comics #my art #batfam

[talesofely]

The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x GN/Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Hopeful Ending (?), Swearing I think, reader is mostly gender neutral but i envisioned it as a fem!reader soooo, pls tell me if u see anything else

Note : I rlly wanna make a part 2 of this, lmk what u guys think thooo

Word Count : almost 2k

Save My Tears - Part 2

Tony decided to host another one of his famous Stark parties. This time, his excuse was that you are single again, and that Natasha and Bucky had something going on. What he didn't know was you and Natasha didn't quite end in good terms, cause she broke up with you. And of course... that you still miss her so god damn much.

So there you were, in your room, mentally preparing yourself to see the love of your life with her soon to be boyfriend. You didn't want to go, you absolutely wanted to just run away. But you couldn't. You had to show that the break up didn't affect you as much as they thought it did, even if it really did.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." The door opened and revealed a redhead. You smiled sadly at the woman, it wasn't your redhead. It was Vision's.

"I told you I'm fine, Wands." You tried your best to give her a genuine chuckle. Wanda didn't seem to be convinced though.

"You look good, L/N. Trying to impress somebody?" Wanda said as she leaned against the closed door of your room.

"You already know the answer to that." You said as you shook your head, standing up to apply perfume.

"Just tell her, Y/N/N. I mean, you should shoot your shot before it's too late. I heard Buck's gonna ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight." Wanda announced, watching you intently as you try desperately to calm your nerves.

"What am I supposed to say, Wands? Please take me back, I miss you so much, I know you broke up with me but I want you back?" You sarcastically said as you scoffed. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin what she has with Bucky. She must like him so much if she made their relationship public within three days of seeing each other."

"She isn't happy with him, and we both know that. I care about Natasha too, Y/N, I want her to be atleast happy with who she's with. Plus, how can you know she doesn't want you back if you haven't even asked?" Wanda asked with a raised brow. You didn't dare to make eye contact, just staring at the perfume bottle on your hand. "Think about it, alright?"

Wanda left your room, leaving you alone with more thoughts than you had 30 minutes ago.

Stark decided to go to the next level for this party. He had a stage in the middle of the living room, a bunch of speakers, and a mic stand.

The party was more lively than normal. Everyone was teasing the future couple, much to your annoyance. Natasha and Bucky were the center of attention.

Apparently, Bucky loves getting all that recognition and attention, but deep down you know Natasha doesn't. Your ex-girlfriend loves parties, but she doesn't like it when she's the center of attention. Bucky doesn't seem to know it considering he's showing her off like she's just a trophy.

You sat at the bar, alone, drinking your Aunt Roberta cocktail. Clint approached you, Tony right behind him. You didn't acknowledge them, just continuing to watch the 'It Couple' as Tony calls them.

"You okay, Y/n?" Clint asked with a small smile. You're guessing he didn't know what happened, you didn't know if Natasha told him how she broke your heart. You just nodded in response, drinking down the last of your cocktail.

"They're such a nice couple, right? Natasha and Bucky? I'm not glad you and Nat broke up but I'm glad they found each other." Tony said with a grin, oblivious to the fact that you want to punch him in the face.

"Mhm." You responded with another nod. You couldn't do this sober, but the alcohol wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Y/N, you should sing! You have a great voice, right!? You used to sing for Natasha when you were still together!" Tony slurred out, obviously intoxicated now. Clint nodded in agreement, both trying to convince you to sing.

You didn't want to, you weren't in the right mood to put on a show.

However, when your eyes drift to Natasha and Bucky slow dancing to your song, 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton, the same song you two always danced to, you snapped.

You cleared your throat to steal Tony and Clint's attention. You stood up and fixed your suit's jacket. The polo you were wearing underneath had three buttons unbuttoned, showing just enough for men and women to go wild.

"I'll go sing, Anthony. The tablet beside the mic is connected to the speakers, right?" You asked as Tony nodded eagerly. He always liked it when you sang, saying you had a specific vibe he couldn't get from other singers.

Before you could fully walk away, Clint shouted at you, making you turn around and raise a brow at him.

"Go get your girl back." He mouthed then winked. You rolled your eyes at him before flipping him off.

When you reached the stage, Steve got off and handed you the mic with a smile. You sat down on the chair, everyone was surprisingly cheering for you. Mostly everyone's eyes were on you, excited for the song you were about to play.

You didn't dare to look into the audience, in fear of meeting those green eyes you used to call home. The fondness in them wasn't for you anymore, anyways.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand

Saying, "If you see this girl can you tell her where I am?"

(Italics are flashbacks)

Three days after Natasha broke up with you, you decided to drive to a park where you two always went on. You sat on the exact bench where you asked her to be your girlfriend. Not a lot of people walked by, it was a slightly secluded area.

You stared at the lake in front of you, watching as the ducks you always used to feed with Natasha swim towards you. One duck in particular, the one you named Nibbles, the one you considered your child, approached you and stood on your foot.

You smiled sadly at him, caressing his fluffy head.

"Hi, Nibbles. Your mama isn't here, I'm sorry. We won't show up together anymore, buddy. I still promise to visit, okay?"

People were giving you weird looks but you didn't care. You just gave the duck a piece of bread that he dipped in the lake before waddling back to you so he could eat it beside you.

And how can I move on when I'm still in love with you?

You met those green eyes while singing the particular line. You couldn't read it, it had too many emotions for you to decipher. You saw her smile faltered though. You gave her a small bittersweet smile as everyone around you was singing along to the song and nodding their heads to the beat.

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

"Where the fuck is Y/N, Wanda?" Natasha asked, barging in the younger redhead's room.

Wanda's head snapped to her door. She saw Natasha was holding the letter you left in her room over and over again, memorizing every sentence. A few tears escaped, but she immediately wiped them away. She saw how the 'Love Always, Y/N.' was smudged, like it got wet from a teardrop.

"What do you mean, Natasha? I thought you knew she left. She's gone, Nat. She left for a no-contact mission, even Fury doesn't know when she'll be back." Wanda said flatly, standing up to kick Natasha out of her room.

"Why'd you care anyways? Miss her?" Wanda said sarcastically with an eye roll.

"She didn't tell me." Natasha murmured, stepping out of the room.

"Why would she? You broke up with her, remember?" With that, Wanda closed the door to her room, making sure to lock it.

Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet

And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street

You walked around the park, even walking the streets where you two would 'window shop' but you end up buying her everything she looks at. Your feet stopped when you saw the familiar ice cream parlor on the corner of the street.

You remember taking her there on your first half-anniversary, right after you two finished a mission. The mission was rough, it didn't physically hurt any of you but it did take a toll on your mental states. You wanted to cheer her up and distract her so you made up an occasion to convince her to go eat ice cream.

Policeman says, "Son, you can't stay here"

I said, "There's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year.

Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows

If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go"

Your eyes met Steve's and he gave you a small smile. He remembers it too.

It was your first winter without Natasha. You were sitting on a swing in the park right in front of the compound. No one else was there except you cause it was cold and snowing really hard.

You felt someone sit on the swing beside you. It was Steve. He gave you a small comforting smile, nodding his head to greet you.

"You can't stay here all night, Y/N. It's cold, you should come in." He said in a low voice, trying to stay as casual as possible.

"I'm fine." You said, giving him an unconvincing smile.

"You're still waiting for her?" He asked. You looked at him but he was staring ahead.

You nodded timidly. "Always."

There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world

"You're my world, Natasha." You murmured into her hair. You were cuddling in bed, her head on your chest.

She looked up at you, her ethereal green eyes staring up at you, filled with adoration. She smiled, that same smile that never fails to make your heart flutter no matter how many times you've seen it.

"I love you, детка." She whispered as you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips.

"I love you more, my Natalia."

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

When the last note ended, some were clapping, some were silent and looking at you in worry. You furrowed your brows, realizing a tear was currently rolling down your cheek.

You saw Clint giving you two thumbs up while Wanda was smiling sadly at you. You tried looking for your redhead, but you couldn't see her anywhere. Even Bucky wasn't there.

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your emotions. Did they leave together? Were they currently having the time of their life in Natasha's bedroom? Did Natasha bring Bucky to the rooftop like you two used to? Why did she leave?

You sighed and decided that you're going to take her absence as an answer to all your questions.

She moved on.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #light angst #fluff #avengers x reader #gay gay gay #by ely !! ★ #ely !! ★ #Spotify

[ksmline]

star [bang chan x reader]

you first catch sight of chan at an award show, and you just have to have him.

pairing: stray kids bang chan x female!reader

info/warnings: NSFW!!, reader is an actress but it kind of unintentionally ends up becoming irrelevant to the smut part. porn without plot, inconsistent writing style, kind of rushed, GENDERED TERMS (pretty girl, etc), unprotected sex

word count: 1.6k

it's my first time writing smut so if you're reading this you're just going to have to forgive me.

i only want ADULTS who are 18+ interacting with this post. any minors interacting with this post or following this blog WILL promptly be blocked.

never in your life have you drooled over a man like this. you’re used to people drooling over you— the super hot, super successful mega star actress with a face card so lethal it could kill a person. as such, you’ve never really had to do much of anything at all to get guys you’re interested in. they flock to you like moths to a flame.

this is why you’re in a dilemma now, standing next to this fucking hunk of a man at some award show you don’t even remember the purpose of. you’ve only been able to steal so many glances through your peripheral vision, at the risk of alerting your hyper vigilant fans, but it’s more than enough to send a heat rushing between your legs. the slope of his nose, his pretty pink lips, the expanse of his chest peeking through his loose silk shirt, the veins on his hands … he turns around to say something to his teammate (the blonde haired doe eyed pretty boy with the freckles), and you catch his accent. fucking hell. you want this man. you hunger for this man.

you hear the blonde guy say his name. chan. you don’t think you’ll get to use it tonight; as confident and extroverted as you usually are, chan has sent you into this helpless haze where even if somebody were to say hi to you it’d cause your entire system to malfunction and shut down. you want him to like you so bad. you want him to think you’re pretty and hot and sexy and tell you the things you hear all the time anyway but in a much more intimate way with that sexy accent of his. you want him to take you to bed and have you whichever way he pleases.

you can feel how red your ears are, and you couldn’t have been more glad that your hair is styled down right now. you don’t even know what’s more embarrassing, the fact that you are this horny for a stranger in public, or this girlish, childish crush on him that you developed in under the five minutes that you guys have been standing next to each other. at this point, all you really can do is wait for this whole thing to be over so you can go back home, search his name online, finger yourself to the first video of him you see, and then try to fall asleep and will him away from your thoughts. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. right?

anywho, you somehow make it through the event. it’s mostly thanks to the management reseating the attendees for whatever reason, and chan being at a safer distance from you, but you give yourself a pat on the back regardless. for someone who’s only come to grapple with the concept of having a crush instead of being someone else’s for once just an hour ago, you’ve handled it quite well. as discreetly as you can with a million cameras flashing in your face, anyway.

the show’s over now, and nearly all the celebrities are gone. chan and his group fell back so they could say bye to their fans, but now security’s shooing the last of them out. your team makes to usher you out to your car, and you watch (more comfortably now that your fans are out of the picture) as the stray kids boys begin to file into their vans too. you stare at chan’s back as he hurries behind them, a regretful yearning oozing from your eyes.

your manager is quick to catch on, a devilish smile beginning to play on her lips. you turn around, about to disagree with whatever’s about to come out of her mouth, and— fuck, fuck, fuck.

chan’s coming back. he’s coming back and he’s headed towards you. you don’t even know if he’s going to approach you or walk past you, maybe to go get something he forgot, but you start panicking anyway, eyes darting all over the place to avoid meeting his. christ, you’ve never been such a mess before, especially for a guy. you don’t have time to ponder this now, because chan’s standing in front of you, leaving you to take him in in all his glory. 

you say a quick word to your manager, something about meeting up with her by the car later, and the team disperses. it then takes everything in you to pull yourself together and channel your collected, professional actress disposition before facing chan properly.

 “hi there.” you flash him your best smile. “can i help you?”

“fucking hell,” chan curses, pushing you against the hotel door as he holds your leg straddled around his waist. you keep your mouth on his, pulling your dress up and around your hips. your wet panties grind against his clothed bulge, and he lets out the horniest, most pornographic moan into your mouth. you take this as your cue to finally reach down between you and touch him, palming his bulge. you’re just about to unzip his fly, before he pulls away. 

you must look confused, hurt almost, because he reaches out to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts literally everything you guys have been doing so far. “not like this, baby. properly.” and then he makes you straddle him tighter, carrying you to the bed and laying you down. then he kisses you again, all soft and wet. his hand disappears beneath your dress, stroking your pussy. you lean into him, mouth falling open in much awaited relief. he keeps talking. “need to make you feel good, too.”

and that he does. just as you feel like you could cum just from this, chan pulls his hand away, and proceeds to spread your legs out as much as he can. then he falls back over you, pulling your dress down just enough for your tits to pop out fully. his eyes glaze over. you look divine; baring your wet panties to him, breasts so round and soft and perfect. he licks his fingers before using them to play with your now hard nipple.

“you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” chan fondles your boobs, patting them gently so they jiggle. you jerk, only being able to nod in your sex hungry state. “i tried so hard to keep from getting hard at the award show. could only think of you and these pretty, round tits.” 

you grab his wrist and shove it inside your panties, using it to get yourself off. “was so wet for you, chan.” your eyes roll back. “the entire award show. i was this wet for you. see? feel. i was— ah, fuck— so wet … almost— almost gave in and t-touched myself in front of everyone. i was— i was so embarrassed, channie.”

“oh my god. fucking hell, me too, baby.” he’s palming his bulge again, touching himself to your words. “kept thinking about what you were hiding under this slutty fucking dress. wanted to see all of you. wanted to see these big, fat tits, and this dripping wet pussy.”

you cum all over his hand, eyes glassy and mouth open. usually, you’d be embarrassed. but not with chan. you feel so naughty, this feels so wrong but you still feel more aroused than you’ve ever been with any man. you show him his hand, all wet with your slick. “look, channie.”

“i’m looking, honey.” he uses his wet hand, rubbing your cum onto your nipples. “can you show me more of you? if that’s okay?” you nod. “good girl.”

chan finally takes off your sopping wet panties, exposing your clit to him, shining with your juices. he pulls you to sit up, reaching over to rearrange you so you’re on all fours. “there we go, pretty girl.” he runs his index finger through your folds, marveling at how much you came. then he presses his tongue to your pussy, licking and sucking at it before adding his fingers to the mix.

“oh, fuck. chan, ah—” 

he brings you to your breaking point once more, before pulling away to unbuckle his pants. he uses the tip of cock and rubs it against your pussy as he strokes himself, both of you moaning like never before.

when he finally enters you, it feels like you’ve ascended. you’ve never taken a cock as big as chan’s before. fuck, you feel so full. he’s a fucking menace, reaching a hand in front to continue rubbing your clit throughout, the other hand fondling your bouncing breasts. this, plus the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin is more than enough to bring you over the edge. 

chan pulls out, pushing you back on to your back. he continues pumping himself with his hand, before cumming all over your pussy with a loud, relieved groan. then he collapses beside you, entire body flushed red as he pants audibly. 

he looks pretty like this, too, you think, and then marvel at how far gone you are. you lean into his warmth, and hesitate before finally reaching out to hold his hand. he’s still for a moment, and you’re about to shyly retract from him before he grabs your hand properly and kisses it with the biggest grin on his face. you’ll figure out your situation in the morning, but right now you’re more than happy to stay with him like this, even more so when he pulls you deeper into him and cradles you gently, letting you fall asleep as he rubs your back.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #skz #kpop #smut

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

#1.03 #he is literally cassandra #pk rewatches spn number ? #parallels #season 1

[mikalame]

Heyyyy I’ve been reader some of your stuff and I really like it!!🫶🏻 Could you write 2005 Tom and same age reader are Friends and she finds out Tom has already had his first kiss and reader is kinda embarrassed that she hasn’t yet so one day she goes to toms house and they start talking abt their life’s and they get to the topic of kissing and she confessed that she hasn’t had her first kiss yet and we’ll dosent know how to kiss and Tom decides to show her how to kiss like the good friend he is and it js leads them to making out and getting caught my Bill! Please and thank you!!🖤

OMG thx so much anon 🫶 this migh be a lil rushed but np

taglist: @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley

'BAM' Tom rushes in the room, the door slamming behind him "TOM HAS GONE IT AGAIN GUYS, UGH ARENT I AMAZING" Tom yells his voice echos though the house "ugh tom shut up whats happened now" Georg groans sitting next me placing his phone on his leg looking at tom with a bored exspression while rolling his eyes as Tom drones on about how he was making out another girl while proudly showing off the hickeys adored on his neck.

Bill and Gustav come into the room, bill sits down on the opposite side of me and Gustav leans on the table in the living room bit. After a while Georg gets annoyed at Tom and starts talking about all his kissing rendezvouses, Bill desides to join in aswell they spend a few good minutes talking about this when Bill desides to ask Gustav if he had any storys to share Gustav looks down a bit embarssed before sharing his storys.

' Buzz' you look down and see your phone buzzing you answer the call after telling the boys to be quite, you hear your dad talking about how you need to come home and stuff, you bid the boys your fair wells and hug them good bye. Just before you hug Tom you look at his neck and feel as if you should of had a story to share aswell, feeling as if you are behind in life by not having a first kiss.

On your walk home you keep thinking about the convo from before feeling a weird feeling in your stomach still thinking that your behind when you reach your house you start up the computer and google 'when are you supposed to have your first kiss' you see it say that it says fifteen (this is just what google said dont feel pressure to have your first kiss) this just adds even more feeling of dread in your stomach you shut off the computer and walk to your room you get ready for bed and lie there you think back to all the storys the guys were saying today and knowing they probably have more storys they just didnt share you try to think about somthing else to get your mind off of it but cant you go to with the same strong feeling of dread.

it had been a couple of days since that incedent you still feel a bit embrassed that you havet had a kiss and so when ever one of the boys rom the table talk about a new kiss they had gotten you unknowingly zone-out trying not to draw anyattiention to your self in fear they would ask you and would think of you as less because you haven't kissed anybody yet. You though that nobody had seen you zone-out when they talk about it and how you were acting more down then usuall but somebody had the infamous Tom.

He had seen the way you look down and how you were more quite then usually, he had always love your bubbly personaity and he wanted to see what was up and what was making you feel down.

You were walking down the hall on friday ready to go home and wollow in your self pity before a pair of hand grab at your waist scaring you making your sqeal. "AH" you turn around trying to see who had done that and see Tom standing there with a grin plastered on his face "HAHA, i scared you so bad ____ should of seen your face" He says. You roll your eyes before you contiune to walk home you hear heavy footstomps behind to and see tom again in your peripheral vision "awe im sorry i scared you didnt mean it promise" he says placing his hand on his chest over his heart. He continues to speak when you dont "you should stay at our house tonight we havent had a sleepover just us in ages, we could watch movies i just rented a new one forgot the name tho and we could get snack and just chill humm how bout it" he looks at you with puppy dog eyes begging you to say yes "uhm idk..-" "comeon you seem so sad and who would be more fitting then your have person ever" "um okay fine" you groan "YAYYY" Tom yells he grabs your hand running dragging you along with him to his house.

I get pulled inside and see bill in the kitchen making a snack "help me" you mouth he shakes his head and laughs at you before heading to his room upstairs "my parents are out for the night so we can pretty much anything right now" tom says while he gets the snacks ready in a bowl "oh cool " you say still feeling a bit bummed. You grab the snacks and head to his room its not the first time you've been in there but you see new posters on the wall and a couple photos of just you two or just the band on his bedside table. "You can wear my top and and some shorts to sleep in, yk cuz you dont have anything else to wear" tom says throwing some clothes at you, you catch them "yeah and whos fault i that hmm your the one that dragged me hear, turn around so i cant put these on" you say tom turns around and puts his hands over his eyes as you put on the clothes "mabey i just wanted you in my clothes hmm" he flirts raising his eyebrows up and down you hit his shoulder playfuly".

You chuck on the movie he rented and played it, it was the new King Kong you havent seen it yet so you were very exsited. You had been so engrosed in the movie that you completely forgot about what you were feeling bad about just a hour prier to the movie. After the movie finished you and tom were talking about how good the mvie was and so on until he says the question you were dreading.

"So___whats been up with you lately you seem real sad" Tom asks worry laced in his tone, you wait a second stunned as you had completely forgot about the whole ordeal and now its coming back to you "oh um nothing im all good" you mumble before grabbing a handful of popcorn and munching on it "you can tell me ___ im your friend after all" Tom say reasuringly wrapping an arm around you pulling you close to him "no its nothing i-its stupid" you stutter realy not wanting to have this conversation "please tell me __ it seems to be really getting to you, your so quite at lunch and down really handout with us as much, did we do something to upset you, d-did i..." he says now anxious to know if they really did something bad. You pull away desiding to say this to get it off your chest " um no you didn't do anything tom um it just god this is so embarrassing, y-you remember a couple days ago when you and the guys were talking bout all your like kissing story's well it kinda made me feel like i was behind the curve and that i should of had my first kiss by now" you mumble the last bit while you look anywhere but tom. You feel him move "that all oh my days ___ you had me thinking someone was bulling you" he chuckles your face turns bright red from embarrassment and you hide you face in your hands

"If that was all it was i can kiss you if you want then you can say to people you has the awsome tom kaulitz as your first kiss" he says while pulling your hands away from your face, you look at him with a shocked face trying to think if he had really just said that "okay" he say before leaning in a bit "I dont know how to or what to do" he pulls back and say "ill teach you okay" you puts a strand of hair around your ear and wait for you to say okay once you do he slowly leans in.

You feel his lips pressed agaist yours, you take in the feeling of his smooth lips and you flutter your eyes closes wanting to really savour the feeling you, a couple seconds later you feel his mouth open and he says "just copy what im doing" you do just what he is doing just a little bit hesitant tho still unsure but feeling as if a weight had been lifted of your shoulders. After a couple minutes of that you pull away both of your guys lips swollen and i bit red you look away giggly and tom smiles before grabbing your jaw to kiss you again.

"Hey guys to got any M&M's i ate all of mine...." Bill says after opening the door and just stands there hodling his balcket around his shoulders like a cape while trying to prosses what he had just seen "uhm ill- ill come back later, have fun you to" he says winking before walking out closing the door behind him.

"We should do this again" Tom says leaning back "you getting better but i still think you need mabey a couple more lessons before you kiss anyone else" you hit his shoulder playfully "agreed" while leaning against the headboard aswell.

AHHH I hope you like anon i spent my afternoon on this (dw about the spelling lol) ❤🫶😝

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x you

[ovlxo]

Modern Axl x Reader Part 1

So I've never written anything before, long time reader but I just can't get a modern Axl scene out of my head, so here's part one, if this proves to be a success I will post a second part.

Warnings: Smut, Mature content, Minors DNI

You’ve just arrived home after a few weeks out in Paris, modelling. You pull your car into the drive and Axl opens the door, your stomach fills with butterflies as he walks towards the car. 

“Baby! I missed you so much” you get out the car as quickly as you can and run to meet him. He picks you up and spins you around, your legs resting on his hips as his eyes meet yours. 

“Not nearly as much as I missed you, sugar” his lips meet yours and the two of you enter into the deepest kiss. You inhale the scent of his cologne, leather and tobacco. 

“I’ve got so much to show you! I was thinking we could have a little fashion show of our own?” Still in his arms, you gesture towards the pile of bags in your car. 

“Absolutely baby, but first, I need to show my girl how much I really missed her”. 

He carries you into the house, tongues entwined almost the whole way to the lounge, he lays you down on the sofa, reaching for the waistband of your denim shorts. 

“Axl! Let me shower, I’ve been on the plane for hours!” You exclaimed, holding his hands to pause his adventure. 

“Like I care, I wanna taste my baby doll, now.” He gives you a stern, seductive look, pinning your arms to the sofa and reaching for the top button of your shorts. Trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands travel up your white, satin vest top, feeling that you’re not wearing a bra he teases your nipple bar whilst rubbing the outside of your red, lace thong. 

“Mmm you feel so good baby”. Axl hums as he presses his nose to your thong, taking a deep inhale before ripping the fabric from your body, burning your hips slightly, quickly fixed as his tongue plunges inside you. You reward him with an involuntary moan as your hips jut towards his mouth. Sucking and licking your clit alternately, his hand moves quickly from your nipple to your now dripping pussy. 

“Axl… please” you moan, finding your fingers entangled in his red locks. 

“Tell me what you want, baby girl.” He almost growls as he continues his perfect assault on you. 

“Y-your fingers. Please… Ax-ahhh” before you’ve even finished your sentence, two fingers plunge deep inside of you, feeling his rings pressing on the edge of your entrance. You feel his fingers teasing your G-spot as he continues to suck on your clit. You feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, and fireworks brewing in your tummy. 

“You… taste… so… good…” Axl growls between licks as he senses your climax and increases the pressure of his fingers. 

“Oh my God! Ax, I’m gonna c-“ overwhelmed with pleasure you feel yourself completely let go, your orgasm saturating Axl’s tongue as you explode. Your body entering a stage of both complete numbness and overwhelming ecstasy. You lay on the couch, completely relaxed, exhausted and unable to see completely straight. You're brought back to reality slowly as Axl climbs on top of you, kissing your lips softly and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I love you so much, (Y/N) Rose.” His deep voice runs all the way through your body as you return his kiss, shaking away the spots in front of your vision. 

“I love you too, Axl Rose.” A hazy grin splits your face as your hand gets lost in his hair once more.

“So, you said something about a fashion show? I’m hoping there’s some French lace in those cases.” Axl motions to the car as he sits both of you up on the sofa.

“Plenty, my love. I thought about you every day.” Stroking your hand down his face with your legs thrown over his lap. 

“And I, you. I’m so happy you’re finally home” He runs his fingers down your thighs and you suddenly feel fur rub against your feet. 

“I think somebody else missed me too.” Leaning up your tickle Dijon under his silver tabby chin. “Hello Mr, has Daddy been taking care of you?” Dijon leans into your hand enjoying the petting and purring loudly in appreciation. 

“I’ve done my best sweetheart but we all just miss you too much, a man can only feel so loved with a just a couple of cats in bed.” Axl draws out the sentence as his hand trails towards your inner thigh, smiling down at Dijon. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be home.” You feel a swell in your heart at Axl’s words as you lay back down on the couch enjoying your husbands magical touch. 

Eventually finding the strength to peel himself away from you, Axl heads outside to bring your suitcases inside. 

“You really don’t know how to pack light do you, baby.” Axl chuckles as he lifts your fourth suitcase through the door. 

“Most of those are gifts! I promise.” You hang on the of the doorframe in your husbands over-shirt feigning innocence at your large amounts of luggage. 

“As long as you’re wearing them, I’m happy.” Axl heaves your final cases over the threshold and locks the doors. 

“I did promise you a show.” His hands are around your waist, green eyes piercing your soul. You place a gentle kiss on his lips before his takes you into a deeper one, biting onto your bottom lip and squeezing your peachy cheeks. 

“I’m the luckiest man alive.” He whispers, pulling away from your lips, you don’t notice his hands have stopped squeezing until a hard smack meets both of your cheeks. Suppressing a moan by biting your lip, he pulls you closer, repeating the smack but harder this time. 

“I think I better slip into something a little sexier.” You growl as your thigh brushes your husbands rock hard mound. 

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom, sugar.” He gives your ass one last hard squeeze, leaving deep imprints, and the heat once again pools between your legs in anticipation. 

#axl rose smut #axlrose #modernaxlrose #smut #axlrosexreader #gunsnrosessmut #gnrsmut #modernaxlrosexreader #axl rose #modern axl rose x reader #axl rose x reader #guns n roses smut #axl rose rough #axl rose rough smut

[crash-and-cure]

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself. 

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping.  Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder. 

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one. 

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest. 

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever. 

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” 

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling. 

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly. 

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things. 

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic. 

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there. 

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here. 

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe. 

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more. 

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls. 

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand. 

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!” 

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence. 

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it. 

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed. 

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him. 

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more. 

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it. 

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be. 

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years. 

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel. 

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time. 

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group. 

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work. 

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off. 

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break. 

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again. 

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom. 

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it. 

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food. 

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence. 

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go. 

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying. 

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile. 

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act. 

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking. 

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech. 

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway. 

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show. 

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you. 

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration. 

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional. 

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there. 

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there. 

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months. 

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.” 

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened. 

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially. 

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that. 

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time. 

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone. 

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at. 

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security. 

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible. 

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.” 

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you. 

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name. 

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you. 

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed. 

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly. 

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.” 

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window. 

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly. 

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.” 

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.” 

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.” 

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense. 

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.” 

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear. 

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his. 

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt. 

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you. 

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around. 

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put. 

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again. 

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it. 

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next. 

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice. 

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left. 

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid. 

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you. 

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity. 

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment. 

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”  

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door. 

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.” 

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.  

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator. 

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in. 

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment. 

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you. 

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished. 

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie ​@cuteejeno  

#elvis 2022 #yandere elvis #elvis x reader #yandere elvis presley #elvis #yandere x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere austin!elvis x reader #yandere #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley

[malarign]

death by the window

(when you die all alone)

contains: angel!Sunghoon x fem!reader | genre: angst? fluff? honestly idk | tw! mention of death, hospitals, and unspecified disease, y/n is dying lonely (is she though?), please read at your own discretion | wc: 0,9k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i wrote it long time ago but honestly i love this one, this is my personal favorite, writing it brought me ultimate comfort, hope you’ll like it ❤️

After years of dealing with multiple hospitals, you decided to end treatment. It wasn’t an easy decision, but telling about this all of your closest family and friends was even worse, even more than dealing with a fatal disease. You were tired of waiting and not living your life the way you wanted. There were so many things on your to-do list like for example bungee jumping, scuba diving in Australia, sightseeing Paris at midnight, Harry Potter marathon with your friends, going to a fast food restaurant all dressed up, painting in a field full of flowers and most importantly finally seeing Wanzhou Waterfall in China.

That’s why you spent past few months and saved up the energy to be able to tick most of those things off. And you did apart from the last one. Even though it was your most desired dream you weren’t disappointed, thought that maybe if not that disease you wouldn’t be able to make it come true at the back of your mind.

It was a rainy evening when you felt that death was near. As if you knew your time was coming to an end you dialed your dearest friends and family’s numbers, talking to them as if nothing was happening. You shared sweet memories and thoughts, laughter and giggles filling your apartment.

“Mom, I think I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you tomorrow though,” you said calmly, with a single tear blurring your vision.

“Of course, honey. I love you so much,” she exclaimed on the other side of the line.

“I love you too,” you whispered and ended your last call. You stared blankly at your wall full of pictures, full of memories you made. This reminded you how blissful you felt at that exact moment.

You thoughts were disrupted when you felt somebody else's presence in the living room, and because of living alone out of fear your heartbeat increased and the palms of your hands became sweaty. Slowly you turned around on the couch to face the window. That’s where you saw a silhouette of a man.

“Who are you and why are you in my apartment?” you asked with a trembling voice.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” the figure said calmly slowly taking a few steps forward now standing in more illuminated place. His facial features became more visible along with pair of two, white-feathered, strong yet delicate wings. You felt like all of your worries faded away along with fear of a mysterious man, or more precisely, a mysterious angel. That’s when you knew. “My name is Sunghoon, and I’m your guardian angel.”

His deep voice was calm just like his appearance. His short black hair falling on his equally dark eyes. His posture was firm but soft at the same time. And his wings? Safe to say they were the most beautiful and grande thing you’d ever seen. White feathers covering them made them seem as fragile as the way he seemed. While looking at him, you felt like time and all the pain you had been feeling had stopped. At this ecstatic moment, your eyes filled with tears. Were you ready? Is death even something to be ready for? While those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind, you started crying without any notice. Without any questions Sunghoon sat next to you, bringing you closer in between both his arms and glorious wings.

“Nobody can be ready for leaving close ones. It’s not something to be embarrassed about Y/n.” You heard not even surprised that he knew what you were thinking about. “I promise that I did everything I could, but sometimes even Heavens can’t predict or get in the way of somebody’s fate. I was there with and for you for beautiful 21 years, experiencing your first friendships, first arguments with parents, first diagnosis, and all those wonderful adventures,” he answered all of your questions you didn’t even know you wanted to ask while pointing at the pictures on the wall. You followed after his fingers crossing around all of the photos. You smiled and looked at Sunghoon saying: “I think I’m ready to go now”.

He returned a smile and shook his head. “No, you’re not, Y/n,” he rejoined covering her vision with his wings. “There is one last thing you need to see.”

When he revealed the view, you realised you were no longer in your apartment in a rainy city. You were in the middle of the beauty of Wanzou Waterfall. Speechlessly you watched as the clear cascades of water fell with a soft splash. The temple hidden between waterfall standing proudly and firmly as if it was welcoming you to explore all of it’s secret paths and mysterious chambers.

You turned around rapidly to face Sunghoon. “How did you…” you stopped when you saw shy eyebrow raise on his face and sheepish smile.

“I know you better than anybody else, and I loved it whenever you were dreaming about this place. I just knew I had to take you here before… you know before what.” He said sctratching the back of his neck. You ran to sink in his embrace not knowing what to say in a situation like this.

“How much time do I have?” You mumbled against his chest.

“Don’t worry about time. You can stay here as long as you want” His answer made you look up and pull away form his warm arms. You ran, wanting to explore the place for as long as you could. And you did, along with your best friend, your angel.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

#kflixnet #enhanet #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen fic #park sunghoon #sunghoon

[bleedingintogold]

Hi! I love your writing! Instant follow with the leader and blanket one.

Writing prompt: Retired leader being comforted by his wife from ptsd nightmare

Please?

Thank you for the prompt idea! Honestly, this was a great way to get out of the stump I was in, and I hope it's what you're looking for!

This takes place in a further future of an original character of mine.

Rex heard the sound of the gun going off before he saw Connor's body hit the ground. He tries to get to his fallen teammate before someone else pulls him away. Somebody is shouting orders but all Rex can hear is Connor's heartbeat in his ears, which should be impossible. He only gets a second where Connor's eyes meet his, pleading him for help as he chokes on the blood collecting in his throat and falls to the ground.

The next second, Rex finds himself running. There's something heavy on his back. A person? He doesn't know where he's running but he's following someone in front of him.

Rex blinks and he's on the ground and everything hurts. He tries to look for something, he doesn't even know what he's looking for but it's something he knows it's something he needs. Smoke is covering his vision and he can't see in front of him. But then he finds it.

Under his fingers, wet and sticky and sickeningly warm is a hand that isn't his. A hand that isn't attached to an arm.

Suddenly the smoke clears and hands are covering his face, suffocating him. He pushes against the hands, clawing at them to let him go but they only wrap tighter on his face. He feels more fingers around his throat, not letting him get a single breath in. Rex feels the black out coming as his body loses strength.

"Rex!"

The man startles awake, hitting his head against the headboard. His vision becomes starry as he rubs his eyes, trying to make it go away quicker because he can't see, and his team needs him and he-

"Shit, Rex!"

The retired captain had sent a punch that only hit air. Someone is pinning him down and Rex feels every muscle in his body strain to fight back but at the same time he's exhausted. He can't defend himself and he can't escape and his team isn't coming for him-

"Rex, baby, look at me?"

Slowly, everything comes back into focus again. Rex finds himself enveloped in warm, strong arms, his ear right next to someone's chest.

"Rex, can you hear it? You hear my heartbeat don't you? Can you count it for me, baby?"

Rex obediently does as he's told. He feels fingers gently scratching his scalp as he finally is able to process his surroundings.

Rhea stops him when he reaches 150, gently tilting her husband's face up to look at him. She gently rubs her thumb against his cheekbone, smiling softly at him.

"Hi there, big guy. Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"At home?"

Rhea hummed in approval, her hands cupping Rex's jaw.

"Did I...did I wake you? I had another nightmare?"

"Yes, baby. You did. But it's okay. It happens," Rhea kissed Rex's face before pressing their foreheads together.

"It's okay, Rex. Everything's okay,"

Rhea pulled her husband into a tight hug, and soon enough, she felt him shake with sobs. She shushed him gently, letting him bury his face in her shoulder, soaking the cotton in tears. Rex holds onto his wife tightly. A small irrationall part of him thinks that if he doesn't, he'll lose her too.

"You're okay, Rex. You're okay,"

#leader whump #leader whumpee #retired leader #ptsd nightmares #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt

[wayneskluv]

you were never supposed to cheat on him — j. todd

Jason Todd x Reader Angst (Post-Death)

Warnings: Swearing & Angst (that’s it)

“You look like the person he loves, but you don't feel like the person he loves.”

Whilst Jason was gone, you felt yourself missing his warm embrace. When he comes back, he finds out you did more than miss him.

“Who?” Jason asks, spitting the word out. There’s that sick feeling in his stomach. He can’t breathe. “Who did you cheat on me with?”

He sits down, dropping his face into his hands. You’re not supposed to do this; you’re not supposed to betray him. You love him.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut. He died and came back to life, but it’s nothing compares to the pain in chest right now. Maybe he was meant to stay dead.

He can’t bring himself to look at you, to face you. “Tell me, Who you cheated on me with.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, a sigh passing through his lips.

You raise your eyes to look at him, “Baby, I-“ He cuts you off, not wanting to hear whatever pathetic excuse you were going to offer him. “Don’t you dare.” He’d rather you tell the truth, than have you lie through your teeth.

You had to speak up, had to make your reasoning heard. You couldn’t stand him being mad at you. “You died.” You swallow, a high pitched ringing in your ear. “You fucking died. You don’t get to make me feel bad. What was I supposed to do?”

Jason can't believe what he's hearing. How could you betray him like this? He died, so you went and fucked somebody else? He can't even look at you. His heart feels like it's breaking. "Do you even care about me at all? I died, and you just moved on that quickly?"

He's fuming, but he doesn't want to lose his temper in front of you. He tries to take deep breaths to stay calm. His vision is beginning to blur.

“You were gone for four years, Jason. Four years. I waited, every single day for you. I wrote you letters, after letters. I prayed, and I begged, that by some miracle, you would come back, but you didn’t.” The pain is radiating through your entire body, You feel like you can’t breathe. You want to cry.

Jason can't believe you’re trying to justify your actions. Are your actually using his death as an excuse to cheat on him? Tears pour down his cheeks. He's shaking with rage. He's never felt so hurt in his life. The thought of you with another man makes his stomach turn.

"You should have waited," he chokes out, "I would have waited for you. I would never, ever, betray you like this.” Jason yells. He's trying so hard to keep himself calm. He can feel his heart beating in his chest. He wants to punch something. "You cheated on me, y/n, how could you do that to me?"

You’ve started to cry. Jason is still shaking with rage. He can see the tears in your eyes, but he's too blinded with anger to care about your feelings. “I can't believe you,” he mutters, his voice trembling with emotion. ”You betrayed me. You broke my trust. And now you're trying to make me feel bad for being hurt?”

Jason struggles to keep his voice from breaking, but the anger is overwhelming him. His heart is breaking into a million pieces.

“Baby, I love you. Please. You have to understand.” You plead, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill. “Please.” Your voice cracks in a way that makes his heart break ever so slightly.

Jason looks at you with anger and heartbreak in his eyes. "Don't." His voice is cold and firm. "Don't call me baby." He tries to keep his voice from cracking, but his emotions are running rampant inside him. He can't believe you hurt him like this, that you'd use his death as an excuse to betray him.

Jason feels like he can't breathe. His stomach churns at the sound of your begging, at the sight of your tears. Every ounce of love he had for you is being tainted by pure rage and heartbreak.

"Don't call me baby," he says in a voice dripping with ice. "You have no right to call me that anymore." Jason feels his whole world crumbling around him. He can't believe you would hurt him like this.

Jason's breathing has become rapid and shallow, as though his emotions are consuming the very air that he needs to survive. "Do you have any idea how much you've upset me?"

Jason's fists are trembling. His entire being feels like pure, raw emotion - everything that he feels for you and everything that you have done to him bubbling beneath the surface. His rage and heartbreak threaten to engulf him entirely.

“Please, Jay.” Is all you croak out, your pleading eyes staring into his cold, unforgiving ones. You place your left hand gently against his cheek, the coldness of your fingertips making him flinch.

Jason can hardly breath. You look like the person he loves, but you don't feel like the person he loves. Instead, he senses a stranger in front of him.

He flinches as your hand touches his face, an involuntary reaction. He doesn't want you to touch him. Not now. Not yet. He feels a flood of emotions welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to handle it. He wants to cry.

As if reading his mind, you pull your hand away. The distance between you feels like miles.

Jason stares at you mutely, unable to form a coherent word. His heart is breaking all over again. You broke his heart once by moving on and you break his heart again with your words. “Just tell me who it was.”

He can't believe how selfish you've become, how much you've changed. The person he loved is long dead.

And then you say those words, the words that cut him deeper than any wound could ever do. “Dick Grayson, It was Dick Grayson.”

#jason todd #jason todd fic #light angst #no beta we die like jason todd #dc fic #dc comics #Spotify

[full-loup]

Her Poor Back!

A sequel of sorts to that other Krystal piece I did, this one done with traditional drawing! Here's a bit of a story to go with it as well.

Krystal groaned and grunted as she lay upon the large bed of straw the Earthwalkers had prepared for her. A friendly CloudRunner, the same that had spotted her from the air, ambled over to her, a jug of water held in its beak. Clutching the vessel by its handle, the Saurian tipped it carefully, just enough so that a tiny trickle of water fell between the vixen's lips.

She drank gratefully, waving the jug away with a slight gesture of her paw once she'd had her fill. The small movement sent ripples through her engorged form, but she still made sure to whisper her thanks to the CloudRunner as he set the jug down next to her bed. She'd been stuck in that bed for three days now, and she doubted she'd be leaving it anytime soon. "I needed that..." The woman panted, gathering breath to continue to speak, "But I also need a cure for my... hufff... condition... please tell me somebody has... huff... found the idol...?"

"Not yet my dear..." A familiar voice responded as the CloudRunner turned to face the entrance to the room and bowed in respect. This action was enough to confirm to her that the EarthWalker Queen herself had come to check in on her, even if she couldn't see the massive dinosaur past her tremendously bloated chest, "I'm afraid we may have to accept that it could be lost forever." The words had stung Krystal enough for her to wince, but she expected them. Days ago, she had come across the fertility idol, a Cerinian artifact left in a shrine her spacefaring ancestors had built on Sauria ages past. The relic was an odd one, a small clay statue depicting a vixen with exaggerated proportions, but Krystal hadn't paid much thought to the figure's cartoonishly large breasts. Simply happy to have found a piece of her people's history, she had stolen it, unaware of the true price she had paid for the discovery until it was far too late. As her once sleek and athletic form began to take on a much more matronly aspect, Krystal had dropped the idol in shock. By the time she'd connected it to her dire predicament, her fate had been sealed: The idol had tumbled down into a deep ravine and her growth showed no signs of stopping. She was fortunate that the CloudRunner had found her before any SharpClaw had, but by the time he did her body had come to not only resemble the massively exaggerated proportions of the statue but to surpass it. Her buttocks and hips had bloated so much with flab they had snapped the loincloth from her waist, her belly having grown heavy and large enough to force her thighs to spread as she lay pinned helpless to the road. The worst changes, of course, had been those caused to her bust. Each jug was massive, filled thick with heavy fat but still obscenely perky as they loomed and wobbled over her, filling her field of vision at all times. Within minutes of her transformation, her breasts had utterly destroyed her skimpy top, leaving them to bounce and swat pendulously before her with each desperate, waddling step she took. By the time she had become immobilized by her own girth, Krystal was sure that each one weighed as much as her whole body used to. The CloudRunner had alerted the nearby EarthWalkers, and it had taken the mighty dinosaur almost a full day to drag her bulk back to their shelter at Thorntail Hollow. "All I wanted was a piece... of Cerinia's history... something else... mmnnffff! ...to remember it by..." The massively bloated vixen moaned, angry tears welling in her eyes as she spotted the fat nipples cresting her fat tits, bare for all to see now, "Not this... indignity...!" "We're sorry... but we will need to find another way," The EarthWalker Queen sighed, "There must be a way for us to break this spell though! What kind of a statue was this?" "A... fertility idol," Krystal said, blushing, "You don't think that...?" The EarthWalker Queen did not answer for a moment, and Krystal could sense her own embarrassment at the awkward but likely theory, "I do not know for certain... but though the growth has slowed, you appear to still be swelling... we don't know if it will ever stop. As she thought of the potential cure, Krystal felt the burning between her bloated thighs only growing even more intense. She shifted them uncomfortably, sighing as it caused her titanic tits to wobble in her face. "If it could reverse this... even stop this..." "I need to find a mate..." Krystal sighed, more longing in her voice than she expected as she licked her lips and moaned, "Well, fuck me..."

#fat furry #fatfur #weight gain

[tswaney17]

The One Where Somebody Says I Do?

Happy Free Day @azrielshadowsingerweek!! I've had this fic idea in my head for a while and decided to share it for the last day of Azriel week. It's heavily inspired by a few Friends episodes combined into one. Let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome. Negative and rude comments are not tolerated. 💙

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Trigger warnings: language

Word Count: 4,914

Elain wanted to just crawl under a rock and let the world go on without her. Because how did one move on when the man they loved was marrying somebody else? Every time she thought about the fact that her best friend, A.K.A. the love of her life, running off to the Illyrian Steppes tomorrow to marry his fiancé, she felt this pain in her chest, like a dagger was trying to puncture its way out and made it hard for her to breathe.

Her family ran around her to finalize their packing when said male stopped directly in her line of vision.  

His warm, scarred palms gripped her upper arms, thumbs brushing over the exposed skin from her t-shirt. “I can’t believe you aren’t coming to my wedding.” Azriel’s face looked almost disappointed.

Well, that made two of them. Actually, she was far past disappointed.

She was devastated.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Elain wasn’t. Not sorry in the slightest. She couldn’t go watch him marry somebody else.

“Come to Illyria with us. Please? I want you there.”

His words cut her straight to the heart and she had to choke down the ache in her throat that threatened to make tears run down her cheeks. “I can’t.”

Those hazel eyes pleaded with her. “You can. I can’t not have my best friend at my wedding, El. Please come.”

Fuck him and trying to manipulate her with that comment. Elain pulled herself from his grasp. “I can’t. I have to work,” she said stubbornly.

Challenge flared on his face. “Call in sick. You’re only missing two days.”

The room went silent as their family watched their little interaction. Elain hated this the most. How he chose to do this in front of everyone else instead of in private. It was unlike him, to pick a time when the others were present and bring this conversation up. He must’ve thought he could convince her to come if she felt pressured to go with everyone observing.

It only made her double down on her reservations.

“No. I can’t just leave Ceriddwen and Nuala on their own. You know how my boss is. Besides, Feyre needs me. Rhys hates leaving her behind but she can’t fly at seven months pregnant. She needs me here.”

Elain saw the defeat pass over his expression.

Azriel sighed, eyes looking sad. “Fine. I’ll see you when I get back.” Seemingly without thought, he brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek and then swept from the apartment like a shadow on the breeze.

Her face tingled from where he touched her and she felt every single pair of eyes branding on the back of her figure. Not able to take the sad looks, the pity of her family, Elain went into her bedroom without a word and silently clicked the door shut behind her. Only once she was securely inside did she let the tears fall as she wept for her broken heart.

~~~

Elain and Feyre ate the Cassian special—two pizzas—in silence, having already gone through the argument of if they should talk about that conversation with Azriel before he had left.

“I’m just saying, it seemed like it hurt him to not have you there,” Feyre queried, taking another slice of pizza from the box.

She scoffed. “Well, I guess we can’t all get what we want now, can we.”

Her sister blinked at the hostility. “What’s going on with you, Ellie?”

Fuck her, she didn’t want to talk about this. “Nothing.”

“Cut the bullshit. We had all thought that when Az told you that he loved you, you two—”

“When he what?” she cut her off, gaping.

Feyre blinked. “At your birthday last year. He was planning on telling you he loved you.” Her face went from realization to utter horror. “Oh my god, he didn’t tell you because you showed up with—”

“With Lucien,” Elain breathed, her stomach turning with nausea. The red-headed man had been nothing but a mistake that lasted five months. They weren’t compatible in the slightest romantic-wise, but they did make out to be good friends. “Azriel was going to tell me he loved me?”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh my, he is going to kill me.” Feyre buried her face in her hands.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might go into cardiac arrest. Azriel loved her. Was going to tell her he loved her. But he didn’t, because she had been so blindingly stupid. And by the time she ended things with Lucien, he had met her.

Gwyn.

A nice girl.

Nesta’s friend.

Elain had no real particular feelings for her. Other than the fact that she was marrying the man she loved.

And she needed to stop it.

She didn’t think, she just moved, running for her room and started throwing things into her bag. Clothes, undergarments, a dress, shoes, toiletries. Whatever she could find, she packed. Grabbing her passport, she emerged from her bedroom to a wide-eyed Feyre.

“What—where are you going?” she demanded.

“I have to tell him I love him,” she said determined as she made her way towards the door.

Her sister gaped. “Elain! He’s marrying somebody else! Somebody he loves! You can’t do this to him.”

She whirled. “He deserves to know!”

A very pregnant Feyre pushed herself off the couch and advanced on her. “What do you think is going to happen? That he’s going to end things with Gwyn? That he’ll tell you that he loves you too?”

“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” she told her, voice clouding with emotion. She had to do this. She had to tell him before it was too late.

Feyre’s eyes turned hard. “You’re just going to hurt him, Elain. You’re not a cruel person, but doing this, going there to tell him now…this is cruel.”

She felt the words like her sister had struck her. Tears welled in her eyes even as her heart told her she had to do this—had to see him. “I have avoided my heart for too long, Feyre. I’m finally going to listen to it. And you’re not going to stop me.”

Without another word, she slammed the apartment door behind her.

~~~

Elain found the temple on top of Mount Ramiel easily enough. She wasn’t expecting half of it to be crumbling like it was being torn down, but she disregarded that as she searched for Azriel.

She knew Feyre likely had called Rhys and told her she was on the way and that both he and Cassian would try and stop her in her endeavors to tell Azriel how she felt. So, as she made her way through the temple, she kept to the shadows, crept down the halls, and avoided anyone who would alert them to her presence.

But when she found him, all of her plans came to a screeching halt. Because there he was, in his tux looking as handsome as ever, hugging Gwyn in the middle of where the ceremony was going to take place.

Her stomach dropped at seeing the special, intimate moment between them, but she was frozen—couldn’t seem to get her feet to move, to turn around and leave before he saw her.

“Oh!” Gwyn seemed to realize what she was doing. “You aren’t supposed to see the bride in her wedding gown before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

Az chuckled, and gods, it was the sound she loved so much. It cut her straight to the heart, though it wasn’t nearly the same sound that Elain was able to pull from him. “I think we can call this the ‘first look’ and avoid that issue, can’t we?”

She reached out to touch his cheek, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I think that will work.” Her fingers brushed his jaw. “I’ll see you at the altar.” Gwyn strode for the door behind her, not having seen her.

Azriel watched her go, smiling before he turned and halted, mouth hanging open as he finally saw her standing there.

“Elain,” he breathed like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re here.”

She swallowed the horrid lump in her throat. Feyre had been right. This was a mistake. An awful, huge, horrendous mistake. “I am,” she choked out.

He took three long strides and swept her into his arms, hugging her like he hadn’t seen a more wonderful sight in years.

Her chest fractured. She shouldn’t have come. And now she couldn’t do anything but lie to his face. “I couldn’t miss my best friend getting married, now could I?” The words were like acid on her tongue. She wanted to take them back, tell him how she felt. But after seeing that moment with Gwyn, Elain knew she couldn’t. It was wrong. He was happy. And how could she be the one to break that?

So, she’d break hers instead.

But Azriel knew her better than she knew herself. His hazel eyes assessed her face, mouth drew into a frown. “Are you all right? You look upset.”

Damn him. “Fine.” She begged her lips to quirk up a bit. “Just jetlagged.”

It looked like he wanted to pick at it more, but somebody else called her name.

“Elain.” Pure, unrelenting command filled that voice.

They looked up to find Rhys staring at them, his eyes regarding their closeness carefully.

She knew what he was trying to figure out. If she had told Azriel the truth. So, she pulled back. “I’m going to freshen up before the ceremony. Don’t want to smell like an airplane on your big day. I’ll see you soon.” Elain left Azriel standing there and went towards her brother-in-law, who put his arm around her shoulder to guide her from the room.

Once out of earshot, he asked her, “Did you tell him?”

“No.”

Rhys let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Elain.”

Not wanting to talk about her failed love life, she kept her mouth shut and let her tears fall down her cheeks.

He escorted her to the groomsmen’s area so she could change and clean herself up. At the door was Cassian. He shot her a sympathetic smile—one she did not return. “Please keep him out," Elain requested before sequestering herself inside the room.

A half-hour later, she was sitting in her spot, watching Gwyn float down the aisle towards her future husband. She looked beautiful in her white gown, but Elain couldn’t help but think it should’ve been her walking down. That she should’ve been the one to be marrying Azriel. It killed her on the inside to see him marrying somebody else.

But he looked happy as he watched Gwyn approach. That was the only thing Elain ever wanted for him, knowing Azriel came from such a shitty life—a horrible childhood. He deserved to have that happiness. Even if it was with somebody else.

And it was time for her to make some happiness for herself.

She had yet to tell her family that a job opportunity had presented itself to her overseas. Elain hadn’t decided before, but now she had. She couldn’t be around Azriel anymore. Not with him married and likely to start a family soon. She needed a fresh start somewhere else. Where nobody knew who she was.

Elain would tell them when she returned home. She’d have to leave immediately—before he even got back. It was better this way. Perhaps now she’d be able to get over the pain of losing him. Could you technically lose something you’d never had?

“And now for the vows,” the minister announced. He turned towards Gwyn. “Gwyneth, repeat after me. ‘I Gwyneth, take you, Azriel, to be my lawful, wedded husband. In sickness and in health, until death parts us.’”

Gwyn repeated his words, teal eyes shining bright. She and Azriel were facing each other, though they had yet to touch. She thought it odd that they weren’t at least holding hands, but perhaps it was because Az disliked contact and hand-holding.

He really only ever let her touch his hands, now that she’d come to think of it.

Elain glanced at her sister, Nesta—Gwyn’s maid of honor. She looked so happy for her friend. Their other friend, Emerie a step behind her.

The minister then turned towards Azriel and began again.

Her heartbeat thumped wildly in her chest, against her throat. She thought she might get sick.

“Repeat after me. ‘I Azriel.’”

“I Azriel,” he said, midnight voice slithering over her bones.

“Take you, Gwyneth.”

“Take you, Elain.”

The entire room turned to ice as a deafening silence settled over them.

Elain’s blood roared in her ears, her breathing becoming unsteady. Did he—

Rhys and Cassian gaped at their brother, unsure of what to do.

Her stomach somersaulted. A mistake like that was so unlike Azriel. It had to do with her presence. She had fucked up coming here. Now, all she wanted was for the ground to completely swallow her whole.

Please don’t look at me. Please don’t look at me.

Elain chanted the mantra in her head, but it seemed like that only encouraged him to do it more. Because Azriel turned his head and locked eyes with her, pinning her on the spot. She felt several other sets warily turn in her direction, regarding her, judging her. Her face heated, but she kept her focus on him. Watched him watching her.

And then he turned back to Gwyn and slowly took a step back. To others, his face would’ve remained impassive, but Elain could read it perfectly.

It was panic.

No.

She royally fucked up. Tears were already streaming down her face when Nesta caught her eye. She looked torn between going to her sister in the crowd or staying put next to the one she stood beside.

Elain swallowed and realized, she couldn’t breathe. She had to get out before she began hyperventilating. Rising from her seat, she ignored the gasp from one of the other attendees and slipped out onto the aisle. She didn’t need to look back at the altar to know those hazel eyes were once again glued on her retreating figure. She felt them on her back the entire way as she excused herself from the temple, quickly grabbing her bag from where she left it in the groomsmen’s room, and fled, taking her shattered heart with her.

~~~~~

Azriel fucked up. Oh, gods, he had fucked up so badly. Not just in saying the wrong name at the altar, but in the many, many, many decisions he had made that got him to this point. He knew he had a choice to make.

No, that wasn’t true.

He had already made his choice when he saw Elain get up and walk out of that temple. His eyes flicked back to his fiancé, finding Gwyn watching him with a look of hurt on her face.

Gods, he was such a fucking asshole. But he had to end this.

Az took another small step back. “I’m so sorry, Gwyn.” And he meant it with every fiber of his being. “I’m sorry that I cannot give you my heart because it is not mine to give anymore.” Tears lined her teal eyes, but he steeled himself to get through this. He had to get out his apologies to her. Az owed her that much. “I gave it away a long time ago to somebody else, and I don’t think I realized that I never got it back. I don’t think she even realizes that she has it, but you don’t deserve to be with someone who cannot fully love you in the way that they should. And I am so sorry that I’m doing this to you now, that I didn’t figure this out before this very moment, but marrying you would be dishonest. I will always regret putting you through this because you deserve better than that. Better than me.”

Gwyn scoffed, wiping at the tears running down her face. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She shook her head. “But I’m not going to stop you from following your heart.” Her fingers wrapped around the ring on her left hand. Sliding it off, she held it out to him. “Here, take it.”

She dropped the ring into his scarred palm. “I really am sorry, Gwyn.”

“Just go, Azriel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Bolting down the aisle, he chased after the love of his life when he heard two sets of steps sounding behind him and then…

“Az!”

Whirling, he found Rhys and Cassian had followed him. “What?”

“Groomsmen’s room. That’s where she got ready and likely where she went to get her bag,” Rhys said, panting.

He was running. Running for her, hoping, praying, she didn’t slam the door in his face. He’d give anything to make it right with her. Gods, he should’ve just told her that night on her birthday that he loved her as he had planned, new boyfriend be damned. Az threw open the door to where he and his brothers had gotten ready and found it, empty.

Utterly and completely empty.

“Elain!” he called out in a panic. She had to be here. Where else could she have gone? His brothers followed him in, Cassian making a straight beeline to the window. “Elain, are you here?” he called out again, looking in the bathroom.

“Az!” Cassian hollered, his eyes wild with regret.

His stomach plummeted when he looked back at his brother and saw him point out the window. His gaze drifted out the glass and he saw her, golden-brown hair blowing in the breeze. She looked stunning in her pink dress, even with her back to him. But that the slump of her shoulders told him that she was upset.

And then he saw the absolute worst thing possible. A car pulled up in front of her and Elain climbed into the backseat.

“No. Elain!” he pounded a hand on the window, surprised it didn’t shatter under the force of his palm. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he took off running again. Down the hallway, he took the stairs two at a time, leaping the last four steps until he burst out into the courtyard of the temple only to find her car gone. “No, no, no! Fuck!” His hands slid into his hair, gripping the strands in frustration.

“Come on!” Cassian grabbed his shoulder. “I’ve got the rental car over here.”

His eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

His brother shook him in disbelief. “The airport, you dumbfuck! Where do you think? If you’re going to go after her and admit your feelings, you’re going to do it right. Now let’s go.”

They drove as fast as they could to the Illyrian international airport. After having to purchase three tickets to get through the gates, they managed to find the boarding plane for Velaris.

“I don’t see her,” he panicked. “Where is she?”

The three of them searched the crowd until they saw her short stature; golden-brown hair bobbing into the tunnel.

“Elain!” he shouted. “Elain!” Az ran over towards where she was, but she had disappeared out of sight. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He had missed her. He missed his chance.

Until Cassian cupped his mouth and bellowed, “EEEELLLLAAAIIINNNNNN!!!!!!”

He and Rhys turned to look at him incredulously.

“Dude, the fuck?” Rhys said.

But it worked, because there she was, standing at the entrance of the terminal. Her eyes were wide, shocked.

Az just moved towards her, like a moth to a flame. A magnet. A man under a spell. His feet ate up the ground between them in a few strides until she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. Those eyes—those incredibly, beautiful, doe eyes blinked at him.

“What,” she breathed, “What are you doing here?” she asked when he reached out and took her arm to gently move her out of the way of the other passengers.

He opened his mouth, a heavy breath heaving from his chest in a great whoosh. “El, I have been such a stupid male. A stupid, stupid male. Because I have been searching for the right person to share my life with and I’ve always known it should be you.” Her body started to shake, so he tightened his grip on her elbow. “You are my best friend, the one person I choose to seek out to spend time with. You bring me comfort and joy and happiness in a way I never imagined myself finding.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, let his knuckles graze her cheek, and then cupped the side of her face. “I love you, Elain. I am in love with you. Fuck, it’s always been you.”

Tears were flowing down her face. Shit, he made two women cry today. He really was an asshole. Her eyes flicked between his.

Az was able to read Elain well for most of the time that he had known her, but at that moment, that critical spot in time, he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell if it was hope or pain or happiness or anguish or anything else on her face. And the realization scared him to death because he didn’t know what to expect her to say.

“Azriel.”

Oh god, no. Not his full name. She may as well as stuck a dagger in his gut and left him to bleed out on the floor of the airport.

“What are you doing?” she asked, shaking her head.

He licked his lips, wetting them and giving himself a moment to process her question. “I came for you.”

“What about Gwyn?”

“It’s over between us, El.” She visibly flinched at the name. “Please, Elain. Please believe me when I tell you that I love you.”

A sob tore from her throat and she placed her palm on his chest. Had to feel his rapidly beating heart beneath her splayed fingers. “But would you have realized you loved me had I not shown up?”

“But you did, El, you did. I just needed that reminder—the wake-up call. I have always loved you, Elain. And I wanted to tell you—”

“On my birthday,” she frowned.

He gaped. “How did you…Feyre.” He sighed, more to himself. “Yes, I wanted to tell you on your birthday, but you showed up with Lucien and you looked happy with him. How could I ruin that when I only wanted you to be happy?” He stepped closer to her, crowding her until she avoided his gaze and looked down at their feet. “Why did you show up at my wedding, Elain?”

Her head snapped up, but she didn’t respond.

“What did you want to tell me before you caught me and Gwyn? I know you didn’t just decide to come.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Like hell was he taking that for an answer. He took both her hands between his and squeezed them. “It matters to me. Tell me, Elain.”

Another shake of her head sent her hair swaying. “It doesn’t matter because I’m leaving Velaris.”

Every thought in his head went silent. The world around him stilled. “What?”

She swallowed. “I got a job offer for an amazing pastry place overseas and I’m taking it. I leave in a few days to meet with the owner.”

Final boarding call for flight 617 to Velaris.

Elain glanced over her shoulder at the open archway of the terminal.

Was she actually considering leaving? He tightened his grip on her hands. “Elain, please don’t get on that plane right now. We can fly home tomorrow. Together.” Azriel had a feeling if she left right now, she’d be gone before he got home.

She began trying to pull away. “I’m sorry, Az. I can’t do this. I—I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Her fingers slipped away and he stood there rooted on the spot as he watched her walk away from him.

He was too late.

~~~

The car ride back to the temple and then to the hotel had been brutal. Azriel said maybe three words to his brothers who had watched the whole interaction with Elain. Both had offered him their condolences like he’d lost a loved one. Which, he supposed he had. Arriving back at the temple made it even worse, especially when Nesta came up and shoved him.

“How dare you do this to them!” she screamed.

Cassian snatched her around the waist, but in all honesty, he’d love to have her just beat the shit out of him. Maybe that would’ve made him feel better.

“Nesta, not now,” Cassian stated.

“Not now?” she screeched. “Should I do it after I take the non-bride-to-be back to the hotel? And where is my sister?”

Az looked at the eldest Archeron. “She left.”

Realization donned her face. “Well, I hope you’re happy now, Azriel.” Turning on her heel, she left the three males out in the parking lot. He deserved her fury, he reminded himself. Az had hurt her friend and her sister. Nesta had every right to hate him.

Now in his hotel room alone, he nursed a glass of whiskey, his bowtie undone and hanging around his neck. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he turned it back on and waited for his notifications to come up.

And then one popped up that had his heart racing. A voicemail from Elain.

He sat up straight, set his glass and phone down on the table, and pressed the speaker button to play the recording.

Her beautiful voice filled the room.

“Hi, Az. It’s me. I just got back on the plane and I’m thinking about everything. I hated leaving things the way we did. You came to me saying all these things and I wasn’t expecting you to show up like that, and I was just afraid of getting hurt again. So, I fled, and I know I hurt you in the process. And I’m so sorry because that was never my intention.” She sniffed and gods, it hurt him to hear her upset again. “And I didn’t even get to tell you that I love you too. Because I do, I love you.”

He made a soft, pathetic sound. His throat ached with unshed tears and he had to tip his head back against the couch.

“I love you,” she said again. “I love you. What am I doing? I love you. I love you. I need to see you. I have to get off this plane.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, looking down at his phone sitting on the tabletop. He heard some rummaging around and then—

“I have to get off this plane.”

“Ma’am sit down.”

“Miss, please. I just need to tell somebody that I love them.”

“I can’t let you off this plane.”

Az, in his own world, shouted, “Let her off the plane!”

“Please, you don’t understand!”

“Try to understand!” he cried.

“Oh, come on, miss! Isn’t there any way you can just let me off—”

The line went dead as the voicemail cut out. “No, no, no! Did she get off the plane?” He tapped his screen like it would hold all the answers.

“I got off the plane.”

He whirled around, and there she stood, keycard in hand. Azriel didn’t utter a sound. No, he just moved to her. His long legs swallowed up the space between them in a few strides until shoved the door behind her shut, cradled her gorgeous face between his scarred palms, and kissed her senselessly.

Elain melted, whimpering against his mouth. She dropped her bag and the keycard on the ground in favor of sliding her fingers into the hair at his nape, securing him to her.

His lips worshiped hers, tongue tracing the seam and begging for entry. When she granted him access, he took every advantage, sweeping in to claim her mouth. He kissed her until every thought eddied from either of them. Until they were panting for breath. Until he knew he conveyed every emotion, every feeling of his love for her into that single encounter with her.

She pulled back, resting her forehead on his. “I’m so sorry, Az. I’m sorry I left you there.”

He shushed her. “You’re here now. I’m sorry it took me so long to have the balls to tell you that I love you.”

Elain chuckled, eyes lined with tears. “We have a lot to figure out.”

“We will,” he told her earnestly, taking one of her hands from his neck and spreading her palm across his chest. “Together. Because I’m never letting you go again, Elain. I’m all in. If you’re moving overseas for a new job, then I’m going with you.”

She gaped at him. “What about your job?”

He shrugged. “I’ll get a new one. The point is, is that whatever and wherever life takes you, just know that I want to be right by your side. Forever.”

Elain let out a choked sound. “I love you, Azriel.”

His thumb stroked her cheek, wiping the tear that fell. “I love you too, Elain.” When he kissed her again, Az saw his entire future line up in front of him and finally, it felt right.

~~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than they’re worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

#the one where somebody says I do? #friends inspired fic #elriel #elain #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azrielshadowsingerweek #azrielshadowsingerweek2022 #elain x az #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel and elain #elain and azriel #pro elriel #elriel forever #tswaney17 #tswaney17fics #my writing #tay writes #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosaf #acosf

[stargazer-sims]

Rant / Info Post incoming...

I'm still angry, but I'm calmed down today at least, so...

Yesterday I was really angry and upset because a number of people felt the need to take it upon themselves to educate me about what's "wrong" with Caroline, simply because I mentioned one time that she has albinism. First of all, I am blind, not stupid. I've done my research. Also, as a member of the low vision community, I have personally known a lot of unrelated people who have albinism, including my boss at a former job, and my friend who I was in a band with in the 90s. If you are not blind, and ESPECIALLY if you do not have albinism yourself or don't at least personally know someone who has it, maybe do a bit of fact-checking before you come for me, yeah?

Honestly, I was literally so upset and angry that I'd nearly decided to scrap the entire story idea I had. I just could not envision myself having the mental stamina to deal with all the ignorance and the ableist bullshit, particularly because I've already been cyber-bullied and attacked online in the past due to speaking out and advocating about disability in general and blindness in particular. But, you know what? If you want to persist in your ignorance and tell me I'm wrong about something you actually know nothing about, then go for it. I know what the block button is for. I blocked people yesterday, and I deleted anon messages, and can do it again.

If you're genuinely curious about something you don't know about, ask. I can't speak for everyone, but I'm more than happy to answer questions about blindness or about anything else I have lived experience with. I'd rather have an honest conversation with somebody who wants to learn than to engage in a pointless argument with somebody who's convinced they're right based solely on their own assumptions and isn't willing to accept even the possibility that they aren't (hence the blocking).

Additionally, I should not have to "content warn" about posts that have depictions of disabled people simply existing. If you feel upset by seeing disabled people or hearing mentions of disability, then please ask yourself why that is. Asking for content warnings for posts that just have disabled people living their normal lives is offensive, and I hope you wouldn't ask people from other equity-seeking groups to content warn you just because a member of that group is depicted in a post doing something totally ordinary.

Representation is important, and sighted people have portrayed us with their weird and harmful stereotypes for way too long. I've also seen loads of hurtful stuff about people with albinism from people who don't have it. Although I also do not have albinism, I've done my research in addition to knowing and interacting with people with the condition in real life. The only people with any right to challenge and educate me on albinism are people actually living with it; only them (or their guardians/parents), and not some random white knights or even their friends, because the only true expert is the person with the lived experience. I'm open to learning and happy to expand my understanding about a lot of things, but I prefer to learn from people who know what they're talking about through personal experience and knowledge, and who aren't disseminating misinformation based on prejudice and stereotypes.

I won't lie... telling a story about a blind child isn't going to be easy for me, because I was also a blind child once. Because people (and particularly children) can be horrible creatures, my childhood was a living nightmare at times. I'm a survivor of childhood psychological and physical violence at the hands of my peers as well as the people who were meant to be protecting me, and that sort of trauma stays with a person. Plus, it's really hard to navigate a world that was not made for you, especially when you're a child and don't yet fully realize that the world was not made for you, and why that is, and what the implications of it are.

For a lot of reasons, this story (or the idea of it, at the very least) is important because I'd get to share something real through the relatively safe medium of a fictional character, and maybe with Caroline I'll get to right some of the wrongs that were done to me in real life. And just maybe somebody else will learn something.

But in the meantime, although it is 100% not my job to educate you, here you go:

Resource 1 - Resource 2 - Resource 3 - Resource 4 - Resource 5 - Resource 6

The correct term for people with albinism is "people with albinism". The term "albino" is controversial, and although there are some people with albinism who have reclaimed this word for themselves and use it in a self-empowering way (similarly to people in the LGBT+ community reclaiming "queer"), there are others who find it offensive, particularly when used by people who do not have albinism.

Albinism occurs in all ethnic and racial groups throughout the world (so yes... there are Japanese people with albinism too)

People with albinism do not have pink/red eyes. The majority of people with albinism have blue eyes, although they can have hazel or brown eyes in some cases (depending on the type of albinism). Some blue-eyed people with albinism may appear to have pinkish or violet eyes in certain lighting conditions, due to the fact that the lack of pigment can make blood vessels much more visible.

Many people with albinism also have low vision that usually can't be fully corrected. Level of vision varies, depending on the type of albinism.

People with albinism can go outside in the sun, but because of the lack of pigment in the skin and eyes, they need to wear sun protection like sunscreen, hats, sunglasses and UV-protective clothing

People with albinism are not sterile (unless they have a co-existing medical condition that causes sterility). They can produce children. Their children may or may not also have albinism, depending on the genetics of themselves and their partner.

------

Canadian National Institute for the Blind - What Is Blindness?

Canadian National Institute for the Blind - Blindness Myths & Facts

Canadian Organization for the Blind & Deafblind - True or False?

Royal National Institute for the Blind - Eye Conditions

More Blindness Myths & Facts

#sapphire notes #disability #blindness #albinism

[thrandilf]

I gotta get this outta my system in full or I Will explode so

Re RP and accessibility

It is 2023 and so it’s hard to. Feel like this is necessarily new info but I want to explain to people what makes Artsy text inaccessible and why people who need accessibility feel so rejected/angry about this

Any deviation from plain text is going to make things more difficult to read for somebody out there. Full stop. I had a friend without any kind of disability tell me they couldn’t read the UK edition of LotR because it doesn’t always use full quote marks and it’s jarring. Like if that is enough to make something not readable to someone please imagine paragraphs of prose written with some number of variations such as

Small text

Excessive bold/italics for aesthetic rather than actual emphasis

Sometimes even purposeful emphasis italics and bold are overdone so much that things are hard to read. If it looks like a typical American comic book with half of the words being bolded, it’s hard to process.

Extra spaces between words (especially a thing for screen readers)

Punctuation that’s extra big or small or otherwise nonstandard so it’s difficult to see or draws the eyes to it so much that it acts as a speed bump

Along the same lines, symbols embedded in text.

Bolding all dialogue. Granted- this might make things more accessible to some people and everyone is different, I admit some people might need this.

Differing text sizes within the same post

Writing in no caps is one that personally makes my head ache when it’s paragraphs of prose not because I am a stickler for “proper” English but it’s again hard to process

I’ve never seen someone RP in all caps but as above it would be hard to read if they did. Some fancy fonts do look like all caps

Icons (previously especially on mobile but now it isn’t so bad) are visual speed bumps and while I care more about the text itself and the content they can add to legibility problems/visual noise

More so on Twitter, but use of lots of different fonts even in the same sentence is probably the most difficult to read for anyone

I do not know if there’s more but generally some combination of these makes text inaccessible. It could be physical limitations like vision disabilities, being prone to eye strain, migraines (I personally can get migraines from reading a lot on screens and a lot of small text and the like can trigger them), or other conditions like dyslexia or ADHD/autism from my understanding, or anything else that may interfere with text comprehension

There’s a cultural expectation in some RP circles that people have to decorate their text to be taken seriously. So I get why even well meaning people who do care about accessibility may feel pressured into making things less accessible, or some people may not know

Said expectation, which is frankly pretentious and takes away from the actual content of posts, makes it actively harder for anyone who needs any kind of accommodation to participate in said social activity

It’s also unfair to everyone. Your writing, your content, your characterization should be celebrated and engaged with. I don’t want anyone to feel like your posts must be a certain aesthetic or else it’s not worth reading. That’s a toxic af norm

I want to emphasize that I understand some people are perfectly capable of reading small text and extra bold and fancy fonts and do not see how it’s an issue. I understand that creating said barriers to others may be inadvertent. But if someone says hey x is not legible to them, it is not legible. It’s not really up for debate.

A lot of times it feels like people who express that things are not accessible get debated with or told it isn’t that bad or whatever else to make said person feel like they are actually the problem for trying to raise a concern/be honest that hey. I Cannot read this. Like no lie/exaggeration. If someone says “I just can’t read/process xyz easily or in some cases at all” believe them.

It is not meant to be a culture war or to be shaming self expression or whatever else it comes across as, but when people get overly defensive about aesthetics over accessibility, it turns into something ugly. Which then makes said people who want readable text from their community in a social activity feel unwelcome and then people who do a lot of formatting feel attacked

I just want to clarify though my stance here is strong

It’s not about taste

It’s not about preference

It’s not meant to be a dunk on people’s artistic sides

It’s not pleasant to bring up to anyone

It’s not fun to feel like you’re about to ruin a relationship when you try to tell someone that you want to read their work and either can’t or it’s difficult and you’re used to getting hostility over it

I like bullet journaling. I like typography. I get why making text pretty is appealing. There’s a lot of room for visually stimulating text in hobbies

But when the rp community at large puts aesthetics over other people, and it’s normalized to not care about being accessible, it feels like a massive Fuck You.

It might not be on purpose. Like I sound mad but I get it maybe it isn’t on purpose

But this post is here to say that this is what it comes across as. And it’s hurtful and frustrating and people have left RP over it. It’s frustrating to feel like your ability to do a thing with people if they would just do something that in fact takes less effort on their part to do fo post things clearly rather than to put speed bumps in it is somehow not worth it

And ideally, rather than try and accommodate on a case by case basis remembering who can’t read small text or who can’t process lots of bold or whatever, the norm would change to be accessible from the start. And it feels like there’s just a lot of resistance to that ever happening

#rp #accessibility #tumblr rp #tumblr roleplay #vent #but ok to rb #long post

[lilbirdblu]

q!fit gives me the same vibes as rasputin by boney m

please tell me that somebody else sees my vision