#I love this one so much I couldn't resist including a bit of it here

[giveafike]

ben shelton taking you on a date after flirting for months on atp/wta tour 😋

TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton flirting on tour until Ben acc gets a grip and asks reader out.

EDIT: part 2 here!

Word count + info: 5.1k! A LONG one but I just do not know how to stfu!! Dialogue (including comments, texts, phone calls - lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Carlos Alcaraz too (couldn't resist) alongisde Frances Tiafoe and Taylor Fritz.

Character Inspo: She's cheeky n playful (was listening to Promiscuous Girl - Nelly Furtado & 5 Star Hotel - Raye as I was writing this amongst many other similar songs so.... yea...behaviour like Sabrina Carpenter - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;)

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a little naughty tsk tsk suggestive scene (CAR SCENE - feel free to skip) bit but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, little jabs here n there, hope its making ur feet kick! I hope it's funny too, like it makes u smile bc I had sm fun writing this !

Azzie Notes ✚: I literally gasped and giggled when I saw this prompt - I can't!!! SO, so, soooo cute I loved this prompt anon pls keep sending me more, you have this writer wrapped around your finger now. I love the idea of Ben with a WTA player, such a cute and fun dynamic!! Anyways, hope you all enjoy ;)

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match - B.T.S

You stood on the court, the crowd's roar fading into a distant hum as you focused on the match ahead. A small smile played on your lips, and your eyes narrowed in determination. The bright sun overhead felt like a spotlight, buzzing on your skin, illuminating your every move and sharpening each muscle in your body. You were a force to be reckoned with — both polarising and captivating, your quick wit and cheeky banter stirred strong opinions. With a playful shrug and a blown kiss to the crowd, you dismissed the critics, your confidence as effortless as your serves.

Years of competing in Junior Opens had forged your resilience, and now you have been stepping into the world of professional tennis, where the stakes were higher and opponents fiercer. You had navigated this transition well over the past few years, finding your rhythm amidst the pressure, your footing steady on the path to greatness. The attention came quick too, especially with names like Nike wanting you to be an ambassador, and all sorts of products wanting you to be the face of the company, from protein powders to headphones - it was endless. The taste of victory was sweet and addictive, each match bringing you closer to the big prizes and recognition you had longed for. But just when you thought you had everything figured out, a whisper of uncertainty began to tug at the edges of your focus... not a what, but more a who?

In the past year and a half, life on tour has shifted for you in a whole different gear. Don't get it twisted, tennis remained top priority, but there was an undeniable spark that made the grind far more enjoyable and unpredictable, and that spark was no other than Ben Shelton. You first noticed him from afar, where casual nods turned into lingering glances that made the hair on your skin stand. With his raw power, boyish grin, and confidence that radiated from him, "Big Ben" was impossible to ignore. But it was during the Australian Open earlier this year that things between you really began to heat up.

Ben was anything but subtle. Once he set his sights on you, his flirting was relentless. You couldn’t help but feel flattered; it was hard not to get hooked to that buzz. After all, it wasn’t every day that a guy like him, full of charm and a teasing smile paid you so much attention. Others had thrown glances your way and offered compliments, but Ben? He stepped up his game like no one else.

Your first interaction was at a practice session where Ben sat by in the empty stands, right up by the court, arms folded and a smirk on his face. You could feel his gaze following you, his presence hard to shake off, not that you wanted to. As you finish another practice set, you heave, closing your fist to celebrate, and walk over to your bag, glancing up as his eyes light up as you catch his.

“You’re looking decent out there,” he teased, leaning over the railing, his voice laced with a challenge.

You stopped, placing a hand on your hip as you shot him a smirk, squinting up at him as you caught your breath. “Decent? It’s okay, I get it, it must be tough admitting I’m shaping up better than you.”

He laughed, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Better? That’s a stretch, Y/N. But I’ll let you keep thinking that.”

You shrugged, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “Believe it or not, it’s happening, Ben,” you winked before slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading toward the tunnel. His chuckle followed you as you disappeared from sight.

The banter didn’t end there, though. Throughout the tournament, you could feel his eyes on you, watching during your matches. On TikTok, he left comments that had both your fans and his buzzing. One day after you posted a training video, he had commented: “You sure you’re training for tennis and not modeling?”

You grinned, tapping out a reply. “I’m great at multitasking. What’s your excuse?”

His response was instant. “Just waiting for you to finally give me a real challenge.”

Comments turned into small conversations as you passed by each other, where you’d joke and flirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. His relentless teasing was addictive.  

It cooled off slightly to just a couple of liked stories and posts until Wimbledon had rolled around. By this point, the stakes felt higher. You were in top form, but off the court, the media seemed just as interested in your interactions than your matches. And it didn't end there either, it wasn't long before other peers started piqueing interest. For example, Carlos? He wasn’t subtle either.

After a long match, you were relaxing in the players’ lounge when Carlos wandered over, his smile too bright to ignore. He leaned against the table beside you, casually close.

“You were on fire out there today. Maybe we should hit the practice courts sometime,” he suggested with a casual grin.

You tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “Careful, Carlos. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your fans.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll risk it. Besides, we’re both Nike athletes, we’ve got to stick together.”

Before you could reply, Ben Shelton walked into the room, his gaze locking onto you and Carlos immediately. His smile didn’t falter, but the way he sized up the interaction was hard to miss. He strolled over, hands in his pockets, exuding calm confidence.

“Carlitos,” Ben greeted, his tone casual, though the unspoken tension hung between the lines. “What’s this? Making future practice plans?”

Carlos shot Ben a quick glance, still smiling but aware of the shift. “Just talking about tennis, you know,” he said lightly. “Gotta keep sharp.”

Ben’s eyes flicked between you and Carlos before landing squarely on you. “I’m sure you can manage without help. She’s been getting a lot of attention lately, let her breathe.”

Carlos gave you a light tap on the arm before backing off, offering a polite nod. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

You waved him off with a smile. “See you around, Carlos.”

Once Carlos was out of earshot, Ben shifted a little closer, though still maintaining that casual air. “You’ve got him interested,” he commented, his voice dropping lower.

You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your mouth lifting into a sly grin. “What, jealous, Shelton?”

Ben’s grin spread wider, but his tone remained easygoing. “Nah, just keeping tabs. Making sure I’m not falling behind.”

You stood up slowly, meeting his gaze as you adjusted your posture, your eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Ben. We’re both Nike—gotta keep it professional.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “So, you’re saying you’re all business?”

You turned to face him fully, taking a step closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Oh, not always. But you’ll have to keep up to find out.”

With that, you brushed past him, leaving a lingering tension in the air. His eyes followed you as you walked away, and you could practically feel his grin growing. The banter was always playful, but now, with each exchange, the stakes seemed to rise; the unspoken understanding was clear: the game was very much on.

As the summer heat intensified, so did the buzz around Nike’s newest campaign. Your latest photoshoot was all about capturing both your athleticism and your bold personality. In a blue baby tee top with a heart-shaped keyhole and a matching skort, you struck poses that screamed confidence, captioned simply: "Ready?"

The comments rolled in quickly, and it didn’t take long before Ben made his appearance.

It didn’t take long for the comments to roll in. And as expected, Ben was quick to chime in.

benshelton:

"You call that ready? Looks more like you’re just warming up."

You chuckled, tapping your response.

Y/N.Y/LN:

"Warming up is all I need to beat you, Shelton."

benshelton:

"Beat me? Let's not get ahead of ourselves... You'd need more than a warm-up for that."

The banter was familiar, yet it always left you with a smirk. You leaned into the challenge.

Y/N.Y/LN:

"Careful, or I might just take that as a challenge."

benshelton:

"I play to win."

The playful back-and-forth didn’t go unnoticed by your fans, but it was clear this game of teasing wasn’t just for show. It must've been a week before it escalated further. You hsd landed a major Victoria’s Secret campaign, and it was unlike anything you had done before. They flew you out to Paris and guided you through the whole thing. The theme was dark and seductive—a fallen angel vibe. Lingerie, lace, and the kind of allure that left little to the imagination. You felt powerful, but also aware of how this would get attention—not just from the public, but from Ben.

You posted one of the shots late that night. The lighting was dramatic, casting soft shadows across your body as you reclined in lace.

The caption was simple yet suggestive: "Best kept secret. VS Summer 2024 Fallen Angel Collection, from me to you."

Naturally, Ben couldn’t resist commenting.

benshelton: Fallen angel, huh? Guess that means you’re trouble.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile as you typed out your reply.

Y/N.Y/LN:: I thought you liked trouble.

It was no surprise when he slid into your DMs right after that.

benshelton: "I do. But you're playing a dangerous game."

You bit your lip, leaning back against your hotel bed. It was late, and the quiet Paris night settled around you, but your heart raced.

Y/N.Y/LN: " A game? Who said I’m playing? "

benshelton: "You might not be playing, but you're already winning."

You hesitated for a moment, then smirked as you typed out your next message.

Y/N.Y/LN: "And here I thought you said you could keep up."

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t another text. It was a FaceTime call. You let it ring for a beat or two, your pulse quickening, before answering.

Ben’s face appeared on your screen, his hair slightly damp and his grin all too familiar. "You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, you know that?"

You smiled, pulling your covers up over you and leaning into the pillow. "What’s got you all worked up? It’s just a campaign."

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Just a campaign? C’mon, you know exactly what you’re doing."

You blinked up at him, teasing. "And what is it that I am doing, Ben?"

His grin widened, but there was a glint in his eyes. "You’re pushing my limits. You're tempting me"

You chuckled, biting your lip as you let his words settle over you. "Tempting? Now that’s an accusation if I ever heard one. Maybe you're just easy to push."

Ben raised an eyebrow, viting a smile back as well. "Maybe I am. But you better be careful, or you might get burned."

The heat in his gaze made your heart skip, but you kept your tone light. "I think I can handle the heat."

Ben’s smile deepened. "That’s what I’m counting on."

You stared at each other through the screen, the tension palpable even across the distance.

Finally, you smirked, pulling the covers higher. "Goodnight, Shelton."

He sighed, but his grin didn’t falter. "Goodnight, angel. Sweet dreams."

From there, the texts seemed to pour out. Every random moment, one of you would reply to a post or find some excuse to message or call, any reason to interact. You had a secret surprise up your sleeve which you knew would practically bring Ben to his knees for you if he wasn't there already, and it had something to do with a custom dress for a red carpet.

It was a hot July night in Spain, the night draped itself around you like a warm embrace, the energy of the red carpet charity event still pulsing in the air. Your dress—a stunning, sheer, sand-colored creation—clung to your body in all the right places, slit at the thigh, your hair pinned back, accentuating your glossy, sheen skin on your neck down your shoulders. The dress shimmered under the streetlights, leaving just enough to the imagination, but not too much.

Photos were posted by your team, "behind the scene" shots and red carpet poses.  The cameras had devoured every moment, the attention was full on and the night buzzed well. You reveled in the limelight and felt like a true celebrity for the night but, as the evening wore on, you began to feel drained from all the social interactions and wished you could just be alone with your phone, texting the one man who truly kept you on your toes.

Finally, as you collapsed into the backseat of your car, exhausted but exhilarated from the night's events, your phone buzzed with a missed call from Ben. The driver glanced back at you through the rearview mirror as you eagerly turned on your phone and smiled to yourself. In that moment, all you wanted was to be alone with Ben and continue this thrilling game of flirtation and surprises. You call him back after a minute passes, butterflies in your stomach fluttering away.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" you teased, giggling as you leaning back against the plush seat. His grin appeared instantly, filling your screen.

"Wait? After that post?" Ben's voice was a mixture of playful frustration and barely concealed admiration. His eyes roamed over your dimly lit image through the screen as though he could see you sitting there in that dress. "You’ve been trying to kill me with these looks for months, but this? This is the final straw."

You laughed softly, pretending to adjust the neckline of your dress as he clearly struggled to keep his composure. "I'm just doing my job. Don’t get too distracted."

Ben shook his head, a grin still lingering on his lips. "Distracted? I’ve been refreshing Instagram like a madman just to catch another angle of you. And from what I saw, I’m not the only one. You’ve got every guy on tour dropping their jaw."

You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully. "You jealous?"

"Jealous? Let’s see. Alcaraz, Ruud… even Tsitsipas liked your post. You know that guy doesn’t just like anything. But trust me, no one’s more jealous than me," Ben teased, his voice dipping lower.

You laughed softly, brushing a hand over your dress as you adjusted the fabric, playing coy. "Ben, there’s only one person I’m trying to get a rise out of—and it’s definitely not them."

His grin widened, eyes gleaming through the screen,scheming away, "Glad to hear that. So...how about you give me something a little more exclusive?Just a sneak peek. Something that’s all mine."

You crossed your legs slowly, feeling the slit in the dress reveal just a bit more skin, and you caught the driver’s eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away.

You smirked, feeling a rush of boldness. "I'm in public, Shelton. What are you suggesting?"

Ben’s eyes glinted with mischief, his grin widening. "Nothing crazy. Just a little something to hold me over."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back, the sound of the city humming outside as you sighed. You stretched your legs out across the backseat, angling your body to the side, draping yourself across the backseat for a full body shot. The dress shifted, catching the city light while still being dimly lit, showing off your figure perfectly as you lounged effortlessly. "Is this what you had in mind, Ben? A full shot?" you purred, looking up at your phone, your eyes sweet and innocent.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he exhaled sharply. "Damn, Y/N, I knew you'd look good, but this…" He let out a low whistle, leaning closer to the screen, his eyes glinting and a blush creeping up all over. "You’re not playing fair."

You smirked, enjoying the power shift. "Fair? You asked for it, Shelton."

He laughed, but it was strained, the heat in his voice unmistakable. "Yeah, but you know how to take it to another level. Now I'm the one who's going to be distracted all night." His tone softened, a teasing edge returning. "Just one more reason for me to fly out, don't you think?"

"One more reason?" you echoed, playing with the neckline of your dress, a smile teasing your lips. "I think I’ve given you more than enough."

Ben groaned softly, running a hand through his hair, clearly captivated.

" Y/N, you don’t know what I’d do if I was there right now."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? What would you do?"

"I’d start with that dress," Ben murmured, his eyes never leaving yours through the screen. "Slowly. You know, just enough to tease. Then—"

The driver cleared his throat, and you bit back a laugh. Ben noticed, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Caught?"

"Almost," you whispered, your pulse quickening as you adjusted in your seat, the thrill of being on the edge of danger sending a shiver down your spine. "You’re getting me into trouble."

"Ben’s gaze softened, though his grin stayed. "Me? You’re the one that looks like that." He paused, his voice low and rough. "God, if I could just be there…"

"Careful," you warned, grinning as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "You might lose yourself completely."

Ben’s gaze darkened, and his voice dropped even lower. "Maybe I’m okay with losing it when it comes to you."

You bit your lip, heart racing as you shifted in your seat. The driver’s eyes flicked up to the mirror again, and you quickly glanced away, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. “You’re dangerous, Shelton. Keep talking like that, and I might have to mute you.”

“Go ahead. Mute me,” he dared, his voice thick with challenge. “But I bet you won’t.”

You smiled, a small, teasing hum escaping your lips. “Oh, you think I’m scared?”

“I think you like teasing me as much as I like it.” His voice was gravelly now, every word laced with want.

Your breath caught, eyes wide a bit before you were about to respond when the car pulled up to the hotel. The driver got out quickly, opening the door for you. You stepped out, feeling the cool night air wash over your skin as you walked through the lobby, Ben still watching intently through the screen. You could feel his gaze on you as you made your way to the elevator, the tension between you buzzing like electricity.

Once in your room, you tossed your bag onto the bed and sank down onto the mattress. "Alright," you breathed, "I’m back in my room."

Ben’s voice came through the phone, teasing yet low with interest. "So… how’s that dress treating you?"

You grinned at his not-so-subtle curiosity. "It’s treating me well so far," you teased, running a hand over the fabric. You stood up, positioning yourself in front of the mirror.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached behind you to the zipper. "I’ll give you a little preview."

You lowered it just enough for the strapless dress to reveal a sliver of your smooth back, keeping the front of the dress held firmly in place with your other hand. The exposed skin was just enough to tease.

You turned back slightly, catching his reaction through the screen, his eyes locked on you. "You wanted to see, right?" you whispered, mischief clear in your voice.

Ben let out a breathy laugh, clearly amused. "You really know how to keep a guy on edge."

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder, still holding the dress in place. "It’s all about the suspense. You should know that by now."

Ben's gaze flickered, his tone a bit softer. "You’re making it hard to focus."

With a smirk, you turned to face him, still holding the dress tight. "Goodnight, Shelton."

Before he could say another word, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the bed, feeling satisfied. You knew he wouldn’t forget that little moment anytime soon.

By the time August had rolled around, the tension between you and Ben was impossible to ignore. Months of teasing, playful banter, and phone calls had built into something electric, something undeniable. Now, you were both in New York for the U.S. Open. The final Slam of the year where you'd cross paths for the year, and maybe the final chance for one of you to make a move.

After winning your third-round match, you made your way through the tunnel, your heart still racing from the adrenaline of your win. The buzz of the crowd still rang in your ears, but as you walked toward the tunnel, you heard familiar voices ahead.

Ben, along with Taylor Fritz and Frances Tiafoe, stood laughing and talking just a few feet ahead. Their voices echoed in the corridor, their banter unmistakable.

“Bro, it’s embarrassing now,” Frances teased. “You’ve gotta ask her out. She’s into you, we all know it.”

Ben groaned, looking exasperated, dragging his hand over his face. “It’s not that easy. I don’t want to screw it up.”

Taylor chuckled. “Screw it up? Dude, she’s been giving you eyes all week. Just make the move.”

Frances nudged him. “It’s not like she’s hiding it either. The way she teases you, she's a green light.”

You smirked, slowing your pace as you approached. They didn’t notice you yet, too absorbed in their teasing.

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t know.”

“They’re right,” you chimed in, finally stepping into view, as you walked by, wiping sweat off your brow, smirking. Their heads snapped toward you, startled. “Take their advice, Benny. It’s 'bout time you did something.”

Ben’s eyes widened as you walked past, your tone light but with an edge of challenge. His friends burst into laughter, both of them slapping Ben on the back, shoving him back and forth.

Frances grinned. “See? Even she's asking you to make a move, man.”

Ben shot him a look, but his gaze lingered on you as you disappeared into the locker room.

Later, after a shower and a change of clothes, you made your way back into the lounge, feeling refreshed but still riding the high of the match. You didn’t expect to run into Ben waiting for you, leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

You raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Stalking me now?”

He pushed off the wall, taking a step toward you, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “No, what-uh, but I... I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s up?”

Ben took a breath, looking almost nervous. “About what you said earlier... maybe they’re right. Maybe I have been holding back.”

You cocked your head, feeling your heart quicken at his sudden change in tone. “And?”

“And I think I’m done waiting,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “Would you want to go out with me? Just us. Dinner, maybe?”

For a moment, the world seemed to be still. Ben, usually so confident and playful, stood before you with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

You let the moment hang, letting him sweat just a little before your lips curled into a teasing smile. “About time you asked, Ben.”

His tense shoulders dropped, a grin spreading across his face. “So, is that a yes?”

You let out a small giggle, your voice soft but playful. “Yeah, it’s a yes. Better come like a gentleman though.”

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sweet, soft dress you’d picked out. It was a pale pink dress, fitted at the top with a flowing skirt that flattered your figure perfectly. The neckline was delicate, with thin straps that accentuated your shoulders, and the soft fabric wrapped your waist before cascading down to just above your knees. The dress was sweet and soft, but still undeniably you—playful with a touch of elegance.

You headed down to the hotel lobby, taking a seat as you crossed one leg over the other, checking your socials. At 7pm on the dot, Ben walks in, running a hand through his curls before he sets eyes on you.

Ben stood there in a crisp white button-down shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal his strong forearms, accentuating his strong shoulders, paired with dark, well-tailored pants. His curls were just tousled enough to seem like he hadn’t spent hours fixing it, but of course, he had. He looked handsome—maybe even a little nervous.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice low as his eyes took you in.

You smiled, a soft blush warming your cheeks, as you stood up. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He offered you his arm, and you linked yours through his, your fingers brushing over the firm muscles of his bicep as you stepped out into the lobby. There was a quiet buzz between you, the usual playfulness replaced with something softer, more tender.

As you walked to the car, Ben opened the passenger door for you, giving you a gentle smile as you slipped inside. Before he could close the door, you leaned over, reaching for the driver’s side door and popping it open for him.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he got in. “You always keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

You grinned, sitting back in your seat, and pulling your seatbelt over. “Always.”

The ride to the restaurant was comfortable, a soft hum playing through the speakers, "Love is Only a Feeling" by Joey BadA$$, making you smile a bit at his subtle but purposeful details. As the city lights flickered by outside, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. Every so often, your hand would brush against his on the center console until finally, you slipped your fingers into his, holding his hand gently as he drove.

Ben glanced at you, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “You seem... different tonight,” he said, his voice soft, almost as if he were trying to figure out the shift in your usual dynamic.

You smiled as you gazed at him. “Different how?”

He hesitated, his grip on your hand tightening just a little. “I don’t know. Less playful. More...”

“Serious?” you finished for him.

He nodded, giving you a small, sheepish grin. “Yeah. I like it, though.”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against the seat. “It’s just nice to finally be doing this.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, a small, candlelit Italian place tucked away in the quieter part of the city, Ben quickly got out and hurried around to open your door again. This time, when you stepped out, you smiled up at him, letting him take your hand. Before you could fully stand, he bent down, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered at the gesture, the sweetness of it catching you off guard. “Such a gentleman,” you teased, though your voice was softer than usual.

Ben smirked, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “I’m trying.”

Inside, the restaurant was intimate, with small tables with flickering candles, and soft jazz music playing in the background. Ben led you to a corner table, pulling out your chair before taking his seat across from you. The low hum of other diners provided a cozy backdrop as the two of you settled in.

As you both browsed the menu, you found yourself resting your chin in your hand, watching Ben with a soft smile. He glanced up and caught you staring, a blush creeping up his neck. “What?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“Nothing,” you said, your lips curling into a grin. “Just... enjoying this.”

Ben reached across the table, his hand finding yours again. “Me too.”

Dinner was perfect. The pasta was rich, the wine smooth, but what made the evening unforgettable was how easy everything felt between you. Conversation flowed naturally, deeper than it ever had before. You talked about travel plans and places you both dreamed of visiting and shared stories about family traditions—like how your grandmother used to insist on making a very experimental desserts during the holidays, no matter how disastrous it turned out every year.

At one point, you glanced out the window, taking in the soft glow of the city lights before turning back to Ben. “What about you? If you could be anywhere right now… where would it be?”

Ben didn’t hesitate, his eyes locked on yours. “Honestly? Right here. With you.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, your heart skipping at the simplicity of his words. He wasn’t trying to impress you, just telling the truth, and somehow, that made it even more meaningful. You reached across the table again, slipping your hand into his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the gesture now familiar, yet it sent a shiver through you all the same.

“I’m glad you asked me to dinner,” you said quietly, the weight of the night settling around you both.

Ben smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “I’m glad you said yes.”

As the night wound down, Ben drove you back to the hotel. The city outside passed by in a blur of lights, but inside the car, everything felt still and comfortable. You held his hand the entire way, feeling the warmth and quiet reassurance of his touch.

When the car pulled up to your hotel, Ben quickly got out, making his way to your side to open the door. You stepped out, and this time, you didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you turned to him, standing close in the cool night air.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whispered softly, looking up through your lashes.

Ben’s smile was gentle, his eyes warm as they met yours. “Anytime. Thank you for being here, with me.”

Your eyes crinkled as you smiled before you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek that lingered for a moment. His skin was warm, and you felt him inhale sharply at the unexpected touch. When you pulled back, your heart was racing, but you smiled up at him, feeling the lingering heat between you.

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lingered on you, and though he smiled, there was a quiet intensity in his eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go, making your way into the hotel with a soft smile on your lips. You glanced back one last time to see him leaning against his car, a playful wave and your lipstick still visible on his cheek. For once, you weren’t in full control, but somehow, that felt right.

In a world dominated by meticulous moves, it was these quiet moments that grounded you. Now, with someone like Ben by your side, every win, every loss, and every day on the court held more meaning.

Sometimes, the most important victories happened off the court.

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】

【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】

【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】

a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?

☆〜KAFKA〜☆

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.

After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.

Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.

Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.

A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.

It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.

☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆

Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrila. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.

Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.

To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.

Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.

He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.

One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.

What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.

☆〜BLADE〜☆

The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.

How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.

He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.

That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.

A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.

Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.

lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D

[queer-little-demigod]

i wish i were special - clarisse la rue

summary glory matters more to her than you do.

fic type angst/hurt

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader

word count 1k

warnings clarisse being mean, neglect, sadness, hurt, breakup, implied su!c!de

masterlist

That evening in the Hades cabin was lonely as per usual. You sat there, feeling stupid as you stared at the black candles flickering their orange light against the silver candleabra you had so painstakingly found out from the lost-and-found (ironically).

The dinner had been set, with Clarisse's favourite pasta with meat sauce, and two glasses of cranberry juice. All for her.

It had started with shying away from your touch in public, passing a comment here and there. But over time it got harder and harder to ignore.

Why didn't you do anything, Y/n? You might be thinking.

You just couldn't bring yourself to tell her she was being shitty, because more often than not she'd dedicate a win to you. With a speech, her lips on your skin, her hands on your body.

But ever since Percy came to camp, it’s always been about glory. It’s always been about being one step ahead of that random little twelve year old who just had a bout of good luck (in Clarisse’s opinion) and killed a Minotaur on his first monster encounter?

It was obviously more than that, too, but it still hurt the same.

It hurt even more that you had planned this date all by yourself, when she knew what a problem attachment and intimacy was to you, and she just didn’t show up.

You had poured your heart and soul into this, a way to show her how much you love her. A way to show her that you cared and weren’t just some unemotional Hades kid like everyone else thought you were. You actually wanted to show that you were different from everyone, not just the girls, because your godly parent, for the last eight years, had dictated how people saw you. How they assumed you were.

You gave up after a while, and lay back in your bed, staring at the ceiling after blowing out the candles on the little desk you made a makeshift dinner table.

‘What did I do wrong?’ Was your only question. ‘Was she tired of me?’ ‘Am I too much for her?’ ‘Is it because I’m a Hades kid?’

Little by little, you felt your heart break. Like a sculptor’s stone being chipped away bit by bit to make a painful masterpiece. You loathed having such a godly parent, you wished with all your might that things were different.

That maybe you were still special to her.

The next day, she came up to you with excitement. “Y/n, baby guess what—“

You didn’t want to hear it. Your whole body screamed at you to leave that situation, to walk away, make her feel shitty the way she made you feel shitty.

But you just couldn't.

You thought it would mzke you too vengeful, thought it would potray you as petty. It was just a missed date, she could've been busy, she forgot to tell you.

Intentional or not, it still hurt.

"That's amazing," you smiled tightly, resisting the urge to slide out of her touch as she swung an arm across your shoulders.

You loved her, but why did her touch feel like it was knives dragging down your skin? Why did it feel like she was not your girlfriend, but an outsider? An outsider who was trying to touch you.

She was just a stranger wearing your lover's face.

Three days later, it happened again.

You sat at the campfire alone, feeling far too shy to talk to the other campers, noticing how they shuffled away from you or formed such close-knit groups that you were physically excluded as well. How they whispered and stopped when you came. You saw it all. It sucked.

But what sucked the most was Clarisse not saying a single thing against it. How she, too, stayed with her group, not bothering to include you in any way whatsoever.

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong again? Why was she doing this?

You saw that unlike usual, she didn't come to you in the evening to stargaze or just talk. She was at the training grounds. Again.

You understood that the battlefield was her temple, her spear her idol, the battlecry her prayer, but you also wished that you were as special to her as you once were.

You were a battlefield, but just the aftermath. The battlefield when it was littered with bodies, blood clumping up the soil and the air hanging heavy with the stench of death.

But you wanted more. You wanted something different.

You wanted to be the battlefield she was so devoted to. You wanted to be the spear she was with every evening, you wanted to hear the loving prayers she whispered to her spear once she finished her training.

Was it the loving prayers you wanted or the sound of her voice in that sweet tone once again? The tone which held all the adoration the world of war could offer, all the gentleness a child of the fierce battle could provide.

You wished you were special.

"Clarisse, you wanna hang out this evening?" You asked her again the following night.

"Can't," she said after ushering her friends away. Atleast she still valued private conversation.

"Why not?"

"I'm busy,"

"Doing what?"

"Why do you need to know?"

The way she snapped that last sentence, it made something in your heart ache. She knew you hated it when she snapped at you. She knew that you did feel lonely.

She knew it all.

You stared at the ground and sighed softly, "I don't,"

"Exactly," she scoffed. "Stop being so clingy, Y/n."

Clingy? Were you...was this her actual thought? Every time she said she loved it when you spent time with her...was it a lie? A petty lie sold to the naive, lonely Hades kid?

"Sorry," you shrugged, "I'll stop asking," you punctuated your sentence by turning around and walking off.

Why didn't she call back for you?

Why didn't she run after you?

Why weren't you special?

The next week went by the same. She would say she'd show up, she wouldn't, you'd ask, you'd be insulted. Over and over and over again.

One night, after you had spent another evening alone, you took a deep breath in and tapped on her shoulder, stating firmly, "We need to talk, Clarisse."

She was shocked. Shocked by the fact that you used her full name. You never used her full name. Ever.

You felt your palms sweat, your mind race, and your whole body almost seize up with nerves.

"Look, I get that you want glory in the upcoming capture the flag, you want glory at camp, you want glory in some quest or the other," you firmly stated. "But is glory worth more than me?"

A small, amused smile spread over her lips. "Is someone jealous?"

"Don't fucking tease me," you snapped, having had enough. "I'm not jealous, I'm--I'm angry. I hate being angry, but I especially hate being angry at you."

"Me? What did I do?"

An incredulous laugh escaped your lips. "What did--what did you do? How about we focus on what you didn't do?"

"Didn't--? Get to the point!"

"So you don't remember the missed dates, forgotten evenings, times where I wanted to talk but you called me--" You inhaled deeply, keeping yourself from bursting into tears. "You called me clingy or annoying or attention-seeking. I have ignored your shitty treatment for far too long Clarisse!"

Your heart ached as you saw her deadpan expression, her emotionless gaze. You felt your throat close up. You were in the middle of the ocean, salt water filling your lungs, stealing the breath out of them.

"I think you're overthinking it," she shrugged.

The water vanished. Now all that remained was fire. A new fire that coursed through your normally cold veins, that made you see red. It took everything in you not to punch her in the face.

"Really? You said that I was special," you snarled, glaring at her. "You said you'll never leave me alone, you'll never make me believe the bad thoughts in my head, and now I see that it's exactly what you do!"

Her silence is what hurt the most. She wasn't denying it, she wasn't apologising.

"Clarisse, don't you know how I feel? When I try to talk to people, they turn their heads with an awkward smile. When I walk into a room, people stop talking or laughing. When I sit near people they shuffle away, and for what? Because my father is the god of the dead. I'm punished day and night for something that I can't fucking control.

"You were the one who got me. You made me feel wanted, you made me want to wake up and live to see another godsforsaken day! But now..." you looked at the ground. No, you glared at the ground. You couldn't see her face.

"I always emerge victorious in the end," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Gods, you wanted those hands to hold you close and wipe your tears away.

You felt your heart break. "What?"

"I always emerge victorious in the end. Glory is what I live for," she said plainly.

Each word felt like a stab to the gut. Each word cut through you like a knife, like her spear tip cut through the training dummies in the arena.

"Glory matters more than me?" You whispered, looking up at her.

Clarisse felt her heart break at the look in your eyes.

You looked...hollow. Empty, a shell of a person. There was no twinkle in your eye, there wasn't the flash of laughter within them that she always saw. They didn't glow with an aura of love.

Empty. Like every child of the god of the dead would have seemed to be.

"Glory matters more than everything,"

"You said I was your everything,"

"Did you note the past tense, death girl?"

You didn't want to reply. You couldn't. You refused to talk to her after that sentence. Death girl?

If this is what love is, you didn’t want it.

Why did glory matter more to her than you did? You probably would never find out.

You wished you were special.

And you would just have to keep on wishing.

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris pt 5

this is a part of my series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and lando's lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. ofc not a smooth ride with some angst and fights along the way. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. read first part here pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of this part: y/n is with her friends watching an f1 race where she and lando met for the first time a few years ago. wc: 1,3k a/n: one of my fav moments in f1 is when lando got this podium, it was and still is so nerve wracking to watch! but yeah let's just forget that that race was without audience, so i modified it a bit :)

summer of 2020

Red Bull Ring, Austria

the atmosphere at a grand prix weekend is something y/n can’t compare to anything else. there was no better feeling than hopping of a bus, walking towards the circuit and hear the f2 cars roar in the distance, you just knew it was gonna be a good day. with a huge smile she and her friends from uni walked along the strip of tents selling merch and drinks. they were on a roadtrip through europe and the four girls and herself accidentally came across five grandstands tickets to the race day and just couldn't resist going. y/n was beyond excited, not only for the race but also as this was the first time she was back at the red bull ring since she met lando there four years ago.

”omg, look y/n there’s the fan stage we have to go there immediately!!” her friend squealed grabbing her hand. excitingly they ran to the crowd who was stood cheering for the renault boys, danny ric and esteban ocon. ricciardo of course got the crowd bursting into laughter at practically anything he said and y/n and her friends were no exception. after a while the mclaren boys entered the staged instead, causing y/n to freeze for a sec. seeing lando on the stage, goofing around like his old self, was some kind of shock to her. obviously she knew that he would be there but she wasn’t prepared to see him like this, like the boy she met at this very place years ago. 

since last summer the pair had met once or twice but it wasn’t like it used to be before he got into f1. he was always so busy nowadays, constantly on his phone when they were hanging out, barely hearing what she talked to him about, it felt like talking to a brick wall. a bit funny that he was always on the phone but it sometimes took days for him to answer her messages or facetime calls. so after a while she kind of gave up, of course they would text each other now and then but not even close to how much they kept in touch before f1, which of course saddened her at times but what could she do? he was living his best life now, and apparently she wasn’t included in that. 

but there he was, 40 meters away laughing at someone’s sign, with no clue that his friend he hadn’t seen in forever was in the crowd too. ”isn’t that your friend? the one that aalways called you?” one friend asked y/n while another added ”ooh i remember him! he used to call you every time when we were at y/f/n’s studying. kinda cute y/n!! you never told us that??”. y/n laughed remembering how she and lando used to talk almost every night that first year at uni when he was still in f2. they would talk about everything, updating one another about every little boring detail in their lives and some nights they would just sit in each others company without talking about anything, with their phone calls usually ending when one of them fell asleep. oh well. now she just waved her friends away, blushing at the fact that they remembered so much details about their old friendship. 

after a while they were heading towards their grandstand seats not too far away from the start and the podium. with a beer in each hand they were soon stood cheering at any minor happening at their part of the track and y/n felt so truly happy with her friends alongside her having the best time of her life. 

later on, with a few mandatory courses at college in german under her belt, y/n tried to figure out what the german commentators were talking so excitedly about lando for. to be completely honest, those courses didn’t contribute too much, as the only thing she understood was ��hamilton’, ’lando’ and ’fünf’ which was probably the language skills an elementary school student would’ve had. but with the help of her friends they figured out that hamilton got a five second penalty and that lando had to make up a whole lotta time to score his first f1 podium. and holy fuck. when y/n understood that a podium was possible? she became a total wreck, she didn’t know if she would jump up and down of excitement or if that would jinx it or if it was best to look away and hope for the best. 

however, that last lap felt like it went in slow motion, y/n carefully watching every motion lando’s car did at the screen in front of them. she saw him drive by their grandstand towards the finish line, immediately looking at the screen. lando's gap was 4.8 seconds to hamilton. 4.8 SECONDS??? did she read that right?? with some kind of magical powers lando had caught up with lewis’ penalty and got a fkn podium?? she couldn’t believe her eyes. how was it possible?

in some kind of hallucination she and her friends ran onto the track as fast as possile and onwards to the podium to see the champagne pop up close. it felt so special to be a part of his first ever podium in f1. seeing him up there with the biggest smile in the word, enjoying every bit of it. y/n couldn’t have been more proud of him.

after all the celebrations and the overwhelming excitement had laid off a bit and the girls were slowly walking away from the podium, y/n couldn’t help but recognize a smaller podium a bit further away. ”i’ll catch you in a bit, i’m just gonna go look at one thing over here” she told her friends while she walked towards the small podium. could it really be it?

it sure was. looking around the podium all the memories from a few years ago came back to her. she recognized every little bit, exactly where she had been running around desperately seeking lando at the podium, remembering how anxious she had been not finding him, thinking she was never going to see him again. and how he appeared from nowhere, surprising her with pepsi and flowers. y/n could perfectly picture it where they had stood sharing their first and only kiss, how happy she had felt in that very moment.

her 20-year old self was now stood smiling at a patch of grass with a half rotten podium on. waking up from her little daydream she realized that after all these years, she still felt so strongly for lando, and not only as friends. she just had to tell him in some sort of way or at least hint about it. so she grabbed her phone, set it up a couple of meters away, turning on the timer and ran to the place where they had kissed. there she stood in her summer dress, similar to the one four years ago, with her hand held up at her eyebrows as if she was looking for someone. *click*. as the photo was taken she excitedly ran to it, opened her instagram dm’s and started writing to lando ”if i remember correctly, a podium at red bull ring means i owe you a kiss?” and was about to add the photo when she saw that lando had posted something on his story. might as well look at that first. 

y/n froze. ”no no no no, this can’t be true, please no lando” she started hyperventilating, falling onto her knees. she looked up towards the sky as to somehow stop the flood of tears that she felt coming. but nothing could stop these heartbroken tears from streaming and she couldn’t care less if anyone saw her in the state that she was. still on her knees she looked once again at lando’s instagram story, a picture of him with a trophy in one hand and what seemed like a girlfriend with flowers and champagne in her hands with the words ”there’s no one like you, love you forever”.

_____

taglist

@amberpanda99 @phantomxoxo @landossainz @chezmardybum @lan4cha16 @tvdtw4ever @starlit-skiessss @dorothea47 @hadids-world @nzygftoji @sltwins

[junnieverse]

HICKEY PRANK ➳ ENHYPEN

➙ pranking enhypen (part. 2)

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

genre: crack, a little fluff

request: " hii i just read your enhypen prank wars hcs and sunghoon’s was so funny, how do u think the rest would react to a hickey prank???? "

warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread, heeseung's drabble is a little suggestive (just a teeny, tiny bit), reader accused/thought to be a cheater in hyung line's drabbles (jake ends up crying, my poor baby)

a/n: enjoy anon! sunghoon's was not included so you can find his in my original post [ here ]

🖇️ — 양정원 ; JUNGWON !

there was just something so fun about messing with jungwon and seeing him all flustered afterwards making him ten times cuter

after seeing a bunch of tiktoks trying this prank, you thought it would be a fun attempt to get a reaction out of him

you had been on a facetime with your boyfriend and purposely turning your neck to show the mark you quickly turn the camera as if nothing happened but ofcourse jungwon noticed and immediately ended the call to go over to your house

hearing aggressive knocks on your door, you open it to find a breathless jungwon who tried to catch his breath before he spoke up, "Y-your neck- what is that mark?"

he points at it and you laugh at how he came all the way here to ask about it, "It's the hickey you gave me wonnie." you playfully lie

with no response, jungwon just nervous laughs claiming this was obviously another one of your jokes but your serious face was telling him otherwise

"Wait but that can't be true... I don't even remember... doing that to you..." he shyly whispers the last part as his ears grow red and you can't help but resist the urge to squish him

"I'm just joking Wonnie, it's not real, see?" you admit wiping off the make up showing him the shades on your finger

"I- you really gaslit me-" he says baffled as you squeezed his cheeks laughing it off

🖇️ — 이희승 ; HEESEUNG !

heeseung was always messing with you and you wanted to get him back, sweet revenge

after his last prank with him rejecting your kisses, you thought the hickey prank your friend had suggested was perfect, nothing too crazy and harmless..?

you had planned to go to the basketball court around the area to shoot some hoops together but heeseung was not expecting for you to open the door and see a few suspicious marks on you

"Where did you get those hickies?" he immediately questions as his eyebrow raised

"Who else if not you obviously." you retort back pulling your shirt up a little

"It's either you're cheating on me... or that's fake, but because you are actually so down bad for me as I am for you, cheating is out of the question." heeseung tells you as he had it all figured out and there was no point in denying it

rolling your eyes, your boyfriend notices and chuckles, "I can't even prank you properly. How did you even know though?" you ask curiously as he wraps his hands around your waist

"You and I both know I have my favourite places to mark you babe, maybe if you payed attention to that detail I would've fell for it." he explains before winking as you were at a loss for words

🖇️ — 박종성 ; JAY !

"Jay, sweetie, I'm sorry, it was an awful prank... not like the hair dye one but still... you can't stay mad at me forever right..?" you beg as you clutch on jay's arm as he continues to ignore you

here you were trying to win your boyfriend over after a hickey prank gone wrong and he had completely iced you out for past hour

after the crazy dye and shampoo prank you pulled, your shenanigans were far from over, you simply turned them down because it was evident there was only so much jay could put up with before he sold you on amazon (as he quoted himself)

after catching sight of the little hickies on you, jay was quite evidently... losing his mind

he just couldn't believe it, you were seeing someone else... did you no longer love him

having finally admitted the truth that they were all fake make up looks, jay was unmoving... stunned to say the least (I'm talking "ah jinjja... ottoke" mix of emotions jay)

even after that he still didn't say anything and you were starting to think you broke your boyfriend

maybe it was time you ended your stunts, he had his members madness to deal with alone, his partner shouldn't cause him any more early grey hairs

🖇️ — 심재윤 ; JAKE !

jake was your dream partner, everything you wanted in a man, he could say the exact same thing about you, the perfect other half he needed... although these were one of the more small moments where he jokingly started wondering what he did to deserve all these heart attacks you cause him

although nothing could ever prepare jake for how much his heart dropped when he saw the hickies on your neck and collarbone, I mean those were the visible ones, who knew where else they were

he was very well aware that was not his 'artwork', he would've remembered and let you proudly show them off after all

"(Y/n)... do you not love me anymore baby, is there really someone else..?" he asks in disbelief trying to find sincerity in your eyes

upon seeing how your boyfriend's eyes were filling with tears, you knew it was time to end the charades

nobody liked seeing jake sad, especially you, that's when you realised maybe you took it a bit too far

"Jakey no don't cry babe, it was a prank, I would never do that to you." you hurriedly reassure him as you wiped the few tears that fell from his eyes

you boyfriend was pretty playful and would laugh along to your pranks but maybe this one wasn't the right way to go

🖇️ — 김선우 ; SUNOO !

having had a more than wonderful relationship with sunoo, one would never expect you to prank your unsuspecting boyfriend

let alone so heartlessly with a hickey prank which would probably make him extremely upset

but here you were watching a youtube tutorial on how to make a realistic hickey print and the little bruise like spot on your collarbone was... nothing perfect but you thought it was a good attempt for your first try

you had walked around with the fake love mark on you and the entire time your boyfriend had said nothing about it

approaching you with a make up wet wipe in hand, sunoo gives it to you, "Honey, you have some make up on your neck, what happened?'

with your jaw dropped you couldn't believe how miserably your prank went

"Oh c'mon, was it that bad, I wanted to do the hickey prank on you-" you tell him as your head drops and sunoo holds in his laugh

"Really? Wow your make up skills are bad then." he tells you helping you wipe the make up off your collarbone

🖇️ — 西村 力 ; NI-KI !

you and riki were still pranking each other and after the ps5 prank and having thought that would be the cherry on top, you thought your next one would surely end this war

you decided to prank your boyfriend by attempting to hide a fake hickey and getting his reaction

for the past afternoon you had been covering your neck which ofcourse riki had noticed because it did seem as though you were hiding something

"Why do you keep covering your neck when I'm around, are you hiding something?" he asks seeming skeptical as he raised a brow

"Oh it's nothing, my neck is just itchy... and bruised." you lie hoping he would buy it

"Wait bruised, lemme see." he says worriedly

before you could even try to stop him he pulled your hand off and his eyes widened at the fake hickey mark

"W-where did you get that... because it sure wasn't me-" he says frustrated almost close to tears

"It's fake! Yeah I got you, I win again!" you proudly yell as you do a little victory dance

riki couldn't take these heart attacks any longer and surrendered, you were officially the prank master

[corviiids]

ok here is a playlist about light yagami

| light | no surprises - radiohead // | the death note | uprising - muse // boulevard of broken dreams - green day // | misa amane | starlight - muse // | ryuga hideki | do you want me (dead?) - all time low // | memory | i love you - woodkid // | the death note ii | NOSE BLEED - stand atlantic, sueco // you're gonna go far, kid - the offspring // when your heart stops beating - +44 // dead! - my chemical romance // wake me up when september ends - green day // | yagami | mama - my chemical romance // disarm - the smashing pumpkins // father and son - yusuf / cat stevens

also on youtube

(thoughts and context under the cut)

no surprises - light's nihilism and disillusionment pre-kira - without the death note i think light would have gone down this line faster.

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government

uprising; boulevard of broken dreams - self-explanatory i feel

Rise up and take the power back It's time the fat cats had a heart attack You know that their time's coming to an end

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me 'Til then I walk alone

starlight - misa towards light

Far away from the memories Of the people who care if I live or die ... My life You electrify my life Let's conspire to ignite All the souls that would die just to feel alive

do you want me (dead?) - light and L's early rivalry and interactions in college are largely exploratory, simultaneously more and less openly hostile, still cautious and uncertain where they stand with each other.

There's no such thing as a perfect crime Don't play that You've said it enough Cause you want me Or you want me dead

i love you - self-indulgent haha i couldn't resist. takes place in a similar continuity to my fic where light and L start a fake relationship for the investigation but when light briefly thinks it's real after he loses his memories. i think canonically light is too irritated with L's poor moral compass to develop true feelings for him even during this arc, but i do think it's reasonable to think light might develop a bit of a puppy crush and a desire for L's attention lol. simultaneously it's kinda a bit of L at kira.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

NOSE BLEED - i think this is the most lawlight song ever. (this also made me think of a couple of my fics.) after light gets his memories back i think his attachment to L transforms into a bit of disgust directed both at himself and L

I'd rather be lonely and hate myself Than someone you think about ... So this is what you get For messin' with my head Don't wanna end up dead (Dead) Six feet in the ground

you're gonna go far, kid - nobody wants to hear that this song is about light yagami but it is. lowkey this is L to light while those bells are ringing

There's something in your way And now someone is gonna pay And if you can't get what you want Well it's all because of me Now dance, fucker, dance Man, I never had a chance And no one even knew It was really only you

when your heart stops beating; dead! - self-explanatory and victorious in a hysterical about to start crying way

I'll be there when your heart stops beating I'll be there when your last breath's taken away In the dark when there's no one listening In the times when we both get carried away

Have you heard the news that you're dead? No one ever had much nice to say I think they never liked you anyway Oh, take me from the hospital bed Wouldn't it be grand? It ain't exactly what you planned

wake me up when september ends - listen i concede this one doesn't make a ton of sense but i've included it because the vibes work for me. something something a melancholy coming back to the self, a rude and painful awakening after a loss of innocence you cant run from. look over there, a distraction

The innocent can never last ... Here comes the rain again Falling from the stars Drenched in my pain again Becoming who we are

mama; disarm - light to his family, to the world, a manic little soliloquy

Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry Mama, we're all gonna die And when we go, don't blame us, yeah We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah You made us oh, so famous ... You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son

I used to be a little boy So old in my shoes And what I choose is my choice What's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you

father and son - are you ever just so god damn sad about the yagamis.

FATHER I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy To be calm when you've found something going on ... SON Keeping all the things I knew inside It's hard But it's harder to ignore it

[izzabela]

Heyo, could you do a request similar to your “a force of nature” fic with the earthrealm gang (plus Ashrah cause my girl needs some love) but with the fake out make out trope?

Loving all the stuff you’re putting out. Keep up the good work.

Quick! Think of Something! - Earthrealm players x male!reader (scenario fic)

in which different scenarios show how you deal with your undeniable love (or hate) for Earthrealm's mightiest champions

a/n: three things: a. yes, i need more ashrah content, b. decided to use male reader because i can, c. i had to research this trope, but i still think i did ass on this fic (forgive me anon!)

ship[s]: ashrah, johnny cage, raiden, kenshi takahashi, kung lao x male!reader (scenario fic)

warning(s): none

=====================

Ashrah - House Party

yall why is she so fine in this clip

- You and Ashrah had been hanging around each other a lot- like, a lot a lot

- Ever since Ashrah joined the ranks of the Wu Shi, you two had been drawn to each other like magnets. Always around, sparring, talking, eating- you two were insperable

- Whenever you two were faced with the question of "Are you two dating?" or "Do you like each other?" it was always met with resistance from both of you

- "No, no, he couldn't possibly enjoy my company like that..." Ashrah once said to Raiden

- "Elder Gods no, I don't think she'll ever see me like that with her life..." you told Johnny honestly

- As much as you two said such things, everyone (including Liu Kang and Geras) knew those were all false claims and empty lies

- These lies were tested, though, during a party at Johnny's place in Hollywood. Invited to a party to celebrate the success of Johnny's box office hit on his first installation to his series "Mortal Kombat"

- Along with many A-list actors and celebs present, you and his friends were present. After all, it would be rude to not invite the inspiration for his film

- Johnny was busy dazzling the room to all of his celeb and actor friends. Kenshi was also by his side, simply listening and keeping him grounded as he corrected an fibs of his

- Kung Lao was next to Raiden and Kitana, the trio conversing about their life and updating one another

- Hell, you saw Syzoth with Kuai Liang and Smoke, the three of them standing together in silence as they monitored the scene in front of them

- As the music was playing, the bass bumping through your ribcage as you drank your alcohol, you realize Ashrah was nowhere to be found. A bit worried, you wander Johnny's mansion until you find her in the mess kitchen

- You smile at her, and she reciprocates it as you approach her with conversation about the party

- The sexual tension was palpable, and clearly evident, but you two pushed those feelings down as you two kept on going in your conversation

- Suddenly, you could hear the party slowly die out from within the walls. The music was lowered down in volume, and Johnny's voice was booming past the mess kitchen door

- "Where's Ashrah and (y/n)?" his voice called out as he walked around the kitchen

- Kung Lao answers, "Not sure, but last I saw, he went looking for Ashrah."

- You two look at one another, wide eyes as you two figure out how to slip out undetected. However, as a group of steps closed in on the mess kitchen's door, you looked at Ashrah and jumped to an on-a-whim conclusion

- You push her against the wall, using your single hand to capture Ashrah's wrists over her head. She gasps, eyes wide like saucers, but she has no time to react

- Your leg props hers to the side, snuggling in between her pants as your foreheads touch

- "I think they're both here," Raiden's muffled voice says from outside yours and Ashrah's hiding place

- As the knob to the mess kitchen's door opens, you mutter a quick "sorry" before your lips are immediately on top of hers. Your tongue dives into the cavern of her mouth, and Ashrah's eyes flutter closed at how deep you kiss her

- Johnny, Raiden, and Syzoth walk into mess kitchen, and Johnny is whooping and clapping at your wooing abilities

- "Woah-hoooo," Johnny cheers as he walks in. "Baby-making station in here!"

- Ashrah moans into the kiss, arms hooking over your neck as she pulls you deeper into it. Was this a cover or was the demoness actually enjoying it?

- Raiden rolls his eyes, "But neither of them are here. Perhaps upstairs?"

- You can hear the three of them leave, voices drowned out once the door clicks shut.

- "(y/n)" she stutters your name, "What in the realms was that for?" In all of her life, this was the one thing that made her breathless. Not even battle did that

- "Sorry Ashrah," you say sheepishly, wiping your mouth. "I just had to make sure they didn't see our faces."

- You straighten your clothes as you head to the door, "I'll come out first. Just sit tight for ten minutes, then you come out."

- As you leave Ashrah alone in the mess kitchen, her heart beats erratically as she touches her fingers to her lips.

- "By the gods..." she whispers, her face warm with a orange-ish hue across her cheeks

=====================

Johnny Cage - Sun Do Escape (reimagined)

- You, Johnny, Ashrah, Syzoth, Kung Lao, and Kenshi are in Sun Do during the peak of the tournament celebration. Except, it was just you and Johnny

- Everyone else had scattered as both police and military were after your heads. It was dangerous, but it was an even number, so everyone had a partner in case any run-ins with the law

- Except you got paired with the guy you hate, loathe, despised- all the words that meant "I want this guy's guts out on the ground"

- Your hatred for him grew as you tug on the flimsy hood of the poncho-like costume Johnny stole for you. He said we needed stuff to cover our face, yet he wears a hat that does the opposite

- The irony made you want to claw his face out

- "Good God, Johnny," you complained as you tugged the hood down your face. "You couldn't steal a more useful disguise?" Johnny just smirks, laughing as he fixes his own hat

- "Functional wouldn't help you in any case, doll-face. This is no exception." Johnny says with a snarky attitude

- You try to clock him in the face with a punch, but he dodges it flips you off

- You were gonna beat his ass as soon as you made it back to the Academy

- That would have to wait, though, as Johnny holds your shoulder to halt you momentarily. He points to Li Mei in front of you, walking around with a couple of officers behind her

- "Where is that distraction Syzoth mentioned?" you say, leaning your head into his space.

- You turn around, trying to go back and into another street. However, Reiko is on the other end with some of his soldiers. His black eye paint contrasts his white eyes, and it's a terrifying sight as you swore he made eye contact with you.

- "Damn it, Syzoth," Johnny says, and you can't help but agree.

- As your head swivels between Li Mei and Reiko, you realize you two have a couple of short seconds before this mission is a bust. You begin to panic, but Johnny (in his flashy way) has a way out of this

- He finds a small alleyway in the street, and he grabs your wrist as he drags you towards it. You're pissed, flailing around as he drags you to the dark alley, but he glares at you as he puts you between his chest and the cold wall

- "What-" but Johnny ignores you as he asks you a (rather important) question

- "Do you see them? From your view, are they close?" You glower, but try and answer his question

- Behind Johnny's back, you can see a lowly constable officer slowly stalk over him. You turn back to him and mouth "behind you" to him

- You feel his hand rest on your waist, with his other one on your cheek. You're red with embarrassment, and your member is beginning to harden just a bit

- "Sorry about this, (y/n)," he says. His eyes drift close, and his lips are on yours

- Your eyes are wide, arms trying to push him off. However, Johnny pushes his tongue deeper, and you moan at the feeling. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hand that was on your waist dips to your leg

- He lifts it up a bit, and you wrap it around his waist as you make your moans louder and more obnoxious

- Opening your eyes a bit, you can see the officer freeze, walk back slowly, then run out of the alley. Tapping his shoulder, you both pull away, a little string of saliva being the last connection to his lips

- "You should consider acting," Johnny says as he wipes his lips. "That was killer!"

- You stare at him with shock, shoving his chest as you yell at him

- "What the frack was that for?!"

- Johnny shrugs, fixing his disguise first before readjusting your hood over your head again

- "Had to give 'em a show. Y'know, the whole 'not being seen' thing?"

- He pats down his legs and disguise one last time before he stakes out the street. You're in a daze as you numbly fix your attire, head in overdrive trying to figure out why he did... that, instead of anything else

- "Come on! Syzoth did the thing, let's go!" Johnny waves you over, and you jog just a foot behind him as your mind races with ideas and thoughts

- Yeah, he's getting more than a right hook to his face

=====================

Raiden - Infirmary

- You, Raiden, and Kung Lao had been peas in a pod since childhood

- Even now, you three train initiates as Shaolin Masters. Definitely an upgrade from harvesting cabbage and other vegetables

- However, there was always something special between you and Raiden. Since little boys, you two hung around a little more closely than usual

- From childhood teasings like "(y/n) and Raiden, sitting in a tree!" to "By the elder gods just kiss already", you and Raiden have been in denial for one another's love

- However, today marks an important shift in this growing romance

- Raiden had gotten injured during spar with Kung Lao. His arm was bleeding from the serrated edge of the chakram hat, and Liu Kang immediately had him sent to the infirmary

- After pushing down the ache of worry and anxiety over the man, the day going agonizingly slow with training initiates, you snuck away to meet him

- You brought goodies, of course. Some of his own students made get well cards and asked you to bring porridge to you in their place

- And although he didn't say sorry yet, Kung Lao handed you his own card for him

- Quietly sneaking in the room, you easily find Raiden sitting in his bed, his usually tied-up hair down to his neck as he reads a novel

- You didn't want to admit it, but he looked so good with his beautiful black hair down and at ease. The way it frames his face, just like his beautiful eyes, jawline, his body, his-

- Get a grip! you internally scream at yourself, shaking your head. Apparently, you made enough noise for Raiden to stop his reading

-"(Y-y/n)!" he exclaims, slamming his novel closed. His face is a bit red, and a finger comes up to his hair to play with it

- You chuckle, waving hi as you drag a chair over to his bedside, sitting down as you take out the many gifts you accumulated throughout the day

- You note that Raiden is itching his head a little more than usual. As a friend, you immediately alleviate the annoyance and itch his head for him

- He moans at the delight, practically melting in his spot as he reads the many cards he got

- "Do you want to massage my head?" he asks kindly, scooting forward from his spot so you can sit behind him

- "S-sure!" you sputter, getting behind him as your fingers work their magic

- A comfortable silence falls upon both of you as Raiden reads his cards and you massaging his scalp. It's calm, peaceful- until you hear someone from outside the walls

- "Ah, (y/n)?" Kung Lao's voice responds to a question. "I am not sure, last I checked, he went inside the infirmary..."

- You both stop what you're doing, Raiden looking back at you while you look at him with wide eyes

- You two got less than five minutes to figure out how to hide yourselves. I mean, you two are friends, what are they going to think when they see this!?

- Not that either if you wanted more...

- You scramble to try and hide yourself, making sure not to hit Raiden's bad arm. As you check out the infirmary, you realize there isn't much leeway in hiding spots

- "Oh gods, what to do!" you panic as the footsteps of Kung Lao grow nearer and nearer

- Suddenly, and without warning Raiden snatches your wrist and brings you to his chest on the bed. He scoots down, trying not to use his bad arm

- His good arm is pressing you close to his body, and you blush at the proximity in which you and Raiden are so close

- Though you both are men, Raiden was rhe bigger fella, and training only made him bigger. You hid perfectly in his chest, and the fact he turned away from the door is better

- Just then, Kung Lao comes in with a kick of the door and his loud voice

- "My friend!" Kung Lao says jubilantly. "Have you seen (y/n)?"

- Raiden answers, not turning his back, "No, Lao, I've been here all day."

- You can hear your other friend "hmm" before taking his leave. Of course, not without a little sorry

- When you don't hear his footsteps directly outside, you push him off and fall off the bed with a thud on your back

- "R-Raiden!" you screech semi-quietly. "What was that for?!"

- Raiden sheepishly smiles and shrugs, "Kung Lao didn't need to see us, it was a good way to hide our faces."

- Your jaw slacks at his nonchalant explanation, and you take all your things and leave the infirmary

- What doesn't leave you, though, is the scent of his natural smell and the obvious blush that overtakes your cheeks

=====================

Kenshi Takahashi - In Hiding

- The battle to free the Taira/Takahashi clan was tough, but this was overdoing it

- You had joined Kenshi in his fight, but working with a stubborn, hard-ass man pushed you to the edge

- And to Kenshi, working with you was a death sentence. You always did things your way, similar to Johnny, but you took it to the extremes

- Thanks to you, your position in stalking a yakuza meeting was blown because you slipped from the tree branch

- (You flicked Kenshi's forehead and he shoved you)

- Now, You, Kenshi, and Takeda were running for your lives as a group of twenty katana-armed men ran after you three

- War cries echoed into the night as you three ran, and it got worse as you all split up. Takeda went one way, while you followed Kenshi another

- As you two weaved left and right in this alley, it comes to a halt- a dead end. You groan as you smack your face with your hand

- "Good going, Takahashi. Now, we're stuck."

- Kenshi practically growls, brows furrowed so far down that if he had eyes, he'd be glowering at you. He pulls Sento out and points the blade tip at your chin

- "If it weren't for a certain someone, we wouldn't be here!"

- You glare at him as his head is slightly turned away from you, a habit he's developed since losing his eyes

- As you continue to bicker, you silence him as you can hear the footsteps of gangsters and their orders being screeched out like harpies. You begin to panic

- Dearest gentle reader, you have five minutes before the gangsters catch you

- Kenshi senses your panic and withdraws his blade. Thanks to his vision, he can see the foot soldiers closing in just meters in the distance

- Without thinking (or maybe with a little braincell activity), Kenshi takes your shoulder and slams you against the cold wall. You gasp as Kenshi's tatted hand is under your chin, tilting your head up slightly

- "Be quiet for once," he commands as his head leans close to yours. Your breath is caught in your throat, and you hold your breath to see what he does

- From behind him, you can see some of the gangsters debating on whether or not to come closer. Kenshi leans even closer, and finally the foot soldiers leave and run the other away

- Your heart is beating so hard you can hear it in your ears. Your senses run in overdrive as you can feel Kenshi's breath on your ear, his hand still (lightly) gripping your chin, and his chest against yours

- Snapping out of your trance, you push him off and yell at him for the entirety of Japan to hear

- "The hell, Takahashi?!" you cry out, but he just rolls his eyes as he walks away from you and back to the street

- "I didn't see you come up with a strategy," he states bluntly

- You groan and follow him, fixing your shirt, weapons, and the growing boner in your pants

=====================

Kung Lao - Stroll Around Fengjian

- You and Kung Lao were walking around Fengjian after a hearty meal at Madam Bo's place

- Granted time off by Liu Kang, Kung Lao took you back home to have dinner at Madam Bo's. It had been months, and you both missed the tough-as-nails elder

- And besides, it was a free meal on Kung Lao

- As friends

- Totally not wanting more

- Yeah...

- Kung Lao had been pining after you since forever. Of course, he'd never verbally admit it, but the eyes never lie, chico. He often found himself staring at you from across the courtyard, eating with you during breaks, hell even sparring together

- He loved you more than words, and you were the same. Just like Kung Lao, you denied your heart's true feelings every time you hung around him

- The stubborn, egotistical, charming farmer-turned-monk had your heart since forever. You couldn't tear the trio apart, though, not when Raiden didn't know. I mean, how could he tell his other bestie that he was in love?

- A man in love with another man, how crazy would that be? (even though Raiden would be happy for you guys)

- Anyways, you two were walking through the dusk-hued town. The sky had blended blue, orange, and pink together into a mosaic of beauty, the sunset resting perfectly between the mountains in the distance

- "I missed this," you said contently, a calm entering your soul. Kung Lao scoffed, and you turn to him with a teasing smirk and crossed arms

- "Madam Bo's food is what I missed, everything else about here is nothing but a memory." You nudged his side, and he lets out a gasp and laugh

- "Say that all you want, but I saw you smiling~" you tease him, tickling his side

- As you two were playing around, Kung Lao stopped in his tracks as his ears picked up on a familiar voice. Rather, a group of familiar voices. His head swivels around before it settles on a group of middle aged women a couple stalls down

- "Oh elder gods..." Kung Lao whispers to you. "It's the aunties."

- The town's most notorious group of gossips, the insidious aunties had eyes and ears around the town to make sure that their boring lives would not stay boring

- Quickly, your head is flicking left and right, trying to find a way to hide your faces before the aunties come over your way. Kung Lao, though, has a different plan

- He grabs your wrist and brings you to the side of a building. He pins you between the wall, and he also takes his chakram hat off to use as a cover to make sure no one can see your faces

- "K-Kung La-" you try to call his name, but you're cut off as he plants a kiss on your lips. His lips are soft, tongue delving into you mouth as you melt into the softness of his kiss

- When Kung Lao lets go, both of you guys' eyes are half-lidded. Breathless, you both wipe your mouths of any saliva leftover from your on-a-whim and quick kiss. You also finally snap out of it, shoving him as you point your finger into his well-built chest

- "What was that for, Lao?!" He shrugs, putting his hat back on as he walks in front

- "I had to make sure they did not see us, dearest friend," he says, turning his head to the side to smile at you

- You're slack-jawed at his response, standing against the wall as he continues to walk away from you and back onto the main street

=====================

no yap notes, tryna finish reqs and such

see yall in the next fic!

[zablife]

Hi Lee! 🥰 I’m here to send another ambiguous gif! — I took a look at your ‘to be written’ and didn’t see any John fics present….so I had to change that.

What can you do with this gif??

Ty for the request, K! I hope you enjoy the fluff (mixed with some angst) in this one. I included a bit of innocent reader x dominant John here as well for the lovely @novashelby.

John's Return

"John?" you called out hesitantly, the bright headlamps from the car obscuring all but his swaggering gait which instantly confirmed his identity. Before he could issue a reply, you rushed toward him, your dressing gown flying open in the chilly night air. As John struggled to shield your delicate frame, you beat upon his chest with the fury of someone twice your size.

His boots twisting in the gravel to stabilize himself against your blows, he exhaled a deep breath and like a summer storm, waited for your mood to pass.

"No calls for three days?" you screamed at him.

As he feared, the unknown had driven you mad with worry. It would have been useless to remind you he'd given fair warning. Instead his heart flooded with guilt over your distress and he reached to stroke your hair in silent apology.

When your head finally dipped toward his shoulder, he guided you into the house with one muscular arm wrapped around your waist. He took it as a good sign that you didn't resist.

"I was so scared, John," your voice trembled as you turned to face him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks. The flash of fear in your eye made him uncertain if you would shake him or collapse at his feet. He could feel the tension building once more beneath your hands, the cool metal of your rings shocking him awake after his long drive. In times like these, he knew he needed to handle you with care because like a spooked animal, you were quite unpredictable.

Grasping your wrists with a firm, but gentle touch, John hushed the sobs threatening to spill from your lips. "Everything's alright, sweet girl. I promise," his deep voice rumbled as he clutched you to his chest.

The soothing vibration quieted your thundering heartbeat long enough for you to resume. "When you didn't come home, I thought you..." you trailed off, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, dipping his head to capture your gaze.

"Hey, look at me," he instructed, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm here now. And everythings alright, ain't it?"

You nodded in quiet agreement, but John knew it was half-hearted when you continued to sniffle.

Scooping you up, he carried you to the sofa and sat you on his lap where you could tuck your knees into the warm protection of his broad chest and strong arms. He placed his chin over your head, allowing you to burrow against his shirtfront, clinging to him to ensure he kept his promise.

John rocked you slowly as he stroked your back, a gentle hum to his voice as he reminded you, "I always come back, don't I? I'd never let anyone keep me from you."

You couldn't deny the truth of it. How he came to you when you needed him most and always made sure to look after you. You raised your head to pepper kisses along his jaw and mouth, pulling away in time to note the smile of satisfaction lingering on his lips.

"That's my girl," he cooed into your ear before carrying you up the stairs for bed, ready to show you just how much he'd missed you.

Zablife Sleepover

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@darklydeliciousdesires

@pono-pura-vida

@emotionalcadaver

@garrison-girl-08

[caesarhamato22]

Hey, love. Donkey Kong simp here! I love him unironically, and I would like to request headcanons and/or a fic based on reader being a Queen from another kingdom and how their relationship would be.

Things I'd like if you included:

Courting

Telling his family

kids? if they ever have any?

Basically fluffy shit and a little spice!

Please and thank you! Happy writing!

Hello!!

I, too, love him unironically, and it would be a pleasure to write this request for you, @autistic-solar-fandom <3

His Queen

Donkey Kong X Queen!Reader

Oh. my. god. This one is so long.

Summary: Donkey Kong meets you, a Queen from another kingdom, and is head over heels for her royal highness.

Warnings: Language. NSFW at the end.

~

Meeting

• Mario, Luigi, Peach, Toad and DK were exploring other parts of their world with their karts, mainly since Mario and Luigi were still pretty new to the place.

• And with Bowser being gone?

• Literally the perfect time to go for a little wander.

• DK originally wasn't going to go, but he couldn't resist annoying Mario. He would playfully criticise the way Mario would try to flirt with Peach, and Toad would immediately interrupt by saying Mario was doing a great job.

• Luigi would try to hide his laughter while Mario looked at him, unimpressed.

• While all this was happening, Peach just lightly blushed.

• She couldn't lie.

• She liked the short, red plumber.

• The group came up to a kingdom that Peach knew well. It was your kingdom!

• It was an elegant sight. Citizens of all different species were greeting everyone they saw. Some danced, some sang, it was clear that everyone loved their home.

• And in the middle of all the houses and people, stood a grand castle. It was decorated with your favourite colours and ornaments.

• While being heavily fortified, it was a welcoming sight.

• The group tried to take everything in, but there was just too much to see.

• Peach led them towards the castle down the same path she had taken multiple times before.

• Once at the castle doors, the guards stood strong, about as tall as Donkey Kong was on his knuckles.

• They recognised Princess Peach and bowed respectfully before letting the group through the doors.

• The interior was even more magnificent than the exterior. There were stained glass windows of you and the rulers before you.

• Peach pointed at the one of you, "that's Queen (Y/N), the current ruler of (Kingdom Name)."

• The one thing the group noticed about your window was you were by yourself, while the other windows had the previous royal couples on them.

• The couples stood side by side while you stood proudly with your signature weapon in hand.

• Before they knew it, the group had reached the throne room. Your throne was decorated accordingly to match the rest of your home.

• In the centre of the room was a circular display of all the kingdoms. You looked over it, your back facing the group. When you heard footsteps, you turned and smiled brightly at the sight of your friend.

• You and Peach reunited with a hug while everyone else took in your appearance.

• Whether you were wearing a dress, or a suit (or both!), you looked powerful with your weapon in it's designated place on your person.

• Mario, Luigi and Toad watched you with admiration, ready to show their respect with a bow.

• But Donkey Kong?

• He couldn't move.

• His eyes were wide and his body was still. He could barely focus on his breathing.

• And the worst part was... Mario noticed this.

• "Looking a little bit stiff there, pal."

• "Mario. Shut the fuck up."

• Peach introduced you to her friends and they loved you. You were so welcoming and kind, almost the same as Princess Peach. However, they did notice you were a little more reserved and serious.

• You gave them a quick tour of the castle and pointed out sections of the kingdom.

• Everyone admired each thing that you pointed out.

• Meanwhile, DK was admiring you.

• While the others took in the scenery, his eyes kept focusing back on you.

• And he didn't notice that you were doing the same.

• When you noticed his eyes were on you, you stuttered before looking away.

• You tried to hide it, and you did pretty well.

• If it wasn't for Peach seeing right through you.

• You would glance at DK when he wasn't looking.

• On occasion, you would take a quick look at his arms.

• That was a mistake.

• Now you couldn't think straight.

• After the tour, the group went their own way to explore further, and they eventually went home.

• Before they left, they thanked you for a wonderful time and you smiled warmly.

• DK thanked you personally while the others were heading towards their karts.

• He held your hand and gently touched his forehead to the top of it.

• "I was nice meeting you."

• DK never really had a way with words when it came to formalities. Sure, he was pretty good at playfully flirting, everybody knew that.

• But he couldn't really speak to a Queen the same way he yelled out to his fans.

• Yet, you still blushed at his simple statement.

• "It was lovely meeting you too."

• Your voice was like silk to him. He practically melted right there.

• And he knew he would be back.

• And you did too.

Meeting Again

• DK pretty much memorised the way to your kingdom by taking mental notes on his way back home.

• He couldn't stop thinking about you. And your kingdom, to be honest.

• There was something so comforting about it, and about you.

• So, a few days after his first visit with his friends, he chose to go back by himself.

• The second time travelling to your kingdom didn't seem nearly as long as the previous time.

• Once he reached the doors, the guards stopped him.

• Without Princess Peach there, he didn't have authority to just waltz on into the castle.

• After he asked (very nicely, in fact), they walked him to the throne room, which was where you were, sitting in your grand chair.

• He smiled and his eyes beamed.

• Why was he so excited? So eager to see you? Why had the thought of you stayed in his mind for days?

• You saw him, your eyes widened. It seemed you were having the same dilemma.

• It was him! The person you couldn't keep your eyes off during he and his friends visit!

• But why was he here? Was there urgent news? Had Bowser escaped from his tiny prison?

• "Donkey Kong? What are you doing here?" You truly wanted to know.

• His name... you said his name! You remembered his name!

• "Well, I uh... I'm here because..."

• He was frozen. He was fumbling over his words. How was he fumbling over his words?!

• You saw his discomfort and asked the guards to leave.

• That seemed to relax DK. Was he nervous? You guessed that might be it.

• He exhaled once he noticed it was just you two.

• "I actually don't know."

• Well, then.

• "I guess I... you seemed cool so I wanted to see you again."

• Sure.

• He travelled alllllll this way because he thought you were "cool".

• Yet, you took it as a compliment. You weren't going to judge him for his reasoning. You were just happy to see him, if you were honest.

• "I'm glad I made a good first impression." You laughed.

• He scratched his neck with a anxious smile.

• "Care to take a walk?" You suggested getting out of the castle, or at least out of the throne room, thinking it would put him at ease.

• He immediately accepted your invitation.

• As you walked, he told you about his kingdom while you told him about yours.

• You explained your duties while he explained his fathers.

• Although you were around same age, how were you a Queen while he was a Prince?

• How long had you been Queen? How long had he been the champion of the Jungle Kingdom arena?

• What was it like being adored by your subjects, while he was adored by fans?

• Countless questions, so many answers, non-stop talking.

• Your conversation had started out a little awkward, but you two quickly became comfortable in each others company.

• The biggest thing DK took note of was how quickly your speech and body language changed. You seemed much more relaxed after leaving the castle and embracing the nature around you. You spoke so fluently, so elegantly, so passionately.

• DK could listen for hours.

• And for hours, he did.

• Time flew and before you knew it, a couple hours had gone by.

• He knew he had to go, and you knew too.

• Before parting, he presented the same gesture he gave you the first time you met: his forehead to the top of your hand.

• Except this time, he added a small kiss on your hand.

• Heat rushed to your face.

• And he was gone.

• These surprise visits continued. Each time, it was in your kingdom. DK had insisted.

• Then there were letters.

• Then there were gifts.

• And eventually, during a day where you spent the visit in your room, you sat on your bed, reading a book, while he laid on your floor, staring at the ceiling.

• "I think I like you."

• What the fuck.

• No warning. Just like that.

• You looked down at him, his eyes still observing the ceiling.

• He didn't feel the need to hide it anymore. His heart had been beating so fast it had started to hurt. He had to tell you.

• You ever so slightly smiled when he glanced at you, unsure of your reaction.

• "I think I like you too."

Dating

• In the early stages of your relationship, all your dates were in your kingdom, or somewhere near by.

• Picnics, kart rides, relaxing in your room, and anything that gave you alone time were the main types of dates you had with DK.

• Kart rides were one of his top favourites.

• They were either you two using your own karts, or you shared his.

• When you're using your own karts, it's always a race.

• There's no worries, no responsibilities, just peace.

• When you're sharing his kart, it's always a simple drive with your head on his arm/shoulder.

• Sometimes you like to stand up and hold his kart for balance. You're surprisingly good at stabilising yourself, even at such quick speeds.

• The first time you did this, DK almost had a full panic attack and practically begged you to come down. You promised him you'd be fine, and you were.

• But that didn't stop his secret worrying.

• He knew you were capable. He just cares a lot <3

• After the first couple months of you officially dating, you asked if you could visit his home.

• But DK was hesitant.

• Not because he was ashamed, no, not at all! In fact, he was excited to show you off, whenever that would be.

• It was mostly because he didn't know how his father would react.

• A kong and a human?

• It was rather an odd combination, you had to admit.

• But you assured him if his dad didn't approve of you, you would leave immediately. No hard feelings, whatsoever.

• It took a little convincing, but he eventually agreed.

• He first wanted to tell his friends, mostly Peach.

• They had noticed he went on "trips" more often after he had met you.

• Peach was the one who guessed that he was visiting you, so she wasn't all that surprised when he confided in her.

• She was surprised, however, when he told her you two were a couple.

• DK didn't know what reaction he would get from her, but he definitely didn't think it would be squealing.

• Thank GOD no one was around to hear.

• Specifically Mario.

• DK actually kept Peach updated on how your relationship was going.

• She gave him advice on what you liked to do <3

• On your first date in the Jungle Kingdom, DK obviously had to give you a tour.

• At first, he didn't show any signs of PDA, so you didn't initiate any.

• Until he eventually went "fuck it" and put his arm around your shoulder to give you a kiss on your cheek.

• He introduced you to Diddy Kong and his dad, Cranky Kong {more details in the next section} and once you became familiar with them, Donkey Kong's nerves vanished.

• Afterwards, it seemed silly to him on how anxious he was.

• You told him you understood how he felt and gave him a light peck.

• Holy. Shit.

• He's so glad he brought you to his home.

• Now you can hang out here too??

• Any of your dates in the Jungle Kingdom consisted of more kart racing, and even exploring the massive garage where all the karts are built.

• DK actually helped you build your very own kart to keep in his kingdom :)

• He made sure the guards in his home knew of your importance.

• Importance being your status of "Queen" and status of "Donkey Kong's Girlfriend".

• He made sure you were treated as well as how you were treated at home.

• Once everyone he wanted to tell knew about you, he had no shame with giving you love in every possible place.

• In your kingdom, the amount of PDA he gave you was up to you.

• But in his kingdom?

• He wanted EVERYONE to know.

Meeting His Father

• Cranky Kong wasn't a fan in the beginning.

• A human with a kong?

• And with you being a Queen, no less. There wouldn't be any time for you two to hang out anyways, would there?

• Until DK told him you had actually been dating two months prior to telling him.

• Cranky Kong was both baffled and disappointed.

• The father and son actually got into an argument about you.

• Neither of them knew you were standing in the doorway, eavesdropping.

• You walked up to them, mid-argument.

• They both quietened and watched you.

• DK looked at you worriedly. He didn't want you to be yelled at or insulted by his grumpy dad.

• Cranky kept his angry expression.

• "Sir. I don't want to be the reason your family falls apart."

• Cranky's gaze softened.

• "It was a pleasure meeting you. And it was such a joy meeting your son."

• The way you spoke so formally yet with such emotion.

• "Thank you for opening your kingdom to me for this time." You curtsied/bowed and squeezed DK's hand before turning to leave.

• Cranky's hardened expression dropped.

• You were so respectful, so understanding, so calm.

• So... not like Donkey Kong.

• DK froze as you left. You seem to have that effect on him.

• He turned to his dad. So much hurt, written so clear on his face.

• Cranky looked at him, then to your disappearing form, then back to his son.

• "Go get her."

• DK raced to bring you back to the room.

• Just from that small, stressful interaction, Cranky Kong was impressed.

• You impressed the King.

• ...And now you're besties <333

Kids?

• It was never really DK's goal to have kids.

• He never really thought about it.

• In a way, he already had a kid. Diddy Kong was a menace.

• (Speaking of, Diddy immediately liked you)!

• But if you ever did become pregnant, DK would tell you the decision was ultimately yours.

• If you kept the child, he would be the BEST dad.

• He would want his kid to have fun every second of the day.

• He would constantly fall asleep with the child on his chest and snore very, very loudly. Yet, the kid would stay asleep.

• Expect two sets of eyes staring at you in the morning.

• If you didn't keep the child, DK would love you just the same.

• All he needed was you.

• You being happy and healthy is all he could wish for.

• You would spend the rest of your days with just him.

• Going on adventures, ruling over the two kingdoms, side by side.

Marriage

• You chose where the wedding was.

• DK's kingdom? It was during the day.

• The wedding was huge.

• It was more of a party.

• Mario, Luigi, Toad, Peach, everyone you invited had come.

• His fans went absolutely crazy.

• The first time they found out he had a girlfriend, the entire kingdom wanted to know more about you.

• When they found out you were a Queen from another kingdom, they wanted to know even more about you.

• In a nice way.

• Where was your kingdom? What did it look like?

• Although you were a Queen, you acted no different to how you were without the crown.

• You were so kind, so soft, and your presence was silencing everywhere you went.

• In a good way :)

• Although you weren't considered weak, you were still smaller than the Kongs, so it seemed everyone was careful around you.

• The citizens loved you, the guards protected you, and DK assured you they would've acted the exact same way even if you weren't royalty.

• Now, if the wedding took place in your kingdom, the ceremony would go a little differently.

• It was peaceful, less rowdy, and during the early night.

• Your entire kingdom came to celebrate.

• After making your marriage official, you and DK strolled through the friendly crowds.

• People let you two walk pass and you greeted anyone who wanted to congratulate your marriage.

• It was a different experience for DK.

• Although this was a huge change in your life, and for your kingdom, no one swarmed you.

• It removed any anxiety he had felt and he enjoyed he whole night, just looking at you.

• Doesn't matter where the wedding was, his eyes were only on you.

• He was so proud.

• "Yep. That's my wife."

• He told everyone he met.

• You looked like a goddess. He genuinely thought he was dreaming at times.

• How in the world did this gorilla get so lucky?

SFW Oneshot

The sun was just about to set while you and Donkey Kong were on a drive. This was one of the times where he drove while you relaxed in his lap.

You felt so content with the wind in your face and DK's hand resting on your hip.

Your eyes had been closed for a while with a small smile on your face. You felt the temperature drop just slightly and you blinked and noticed the sun was almost halfway down.

You chose to stand on DK's kart, just next to where he sat, like you always did.

Taking in a deep breathe while holding on tightly so you wouldn't fall, you admired the view as DK kept the kart steady. A small bump in the road approached you and DK casually wrapped his arm around your leg and held your thigh to give you extra balance.

You looked down and smiled at him. He cared about you so much and he showed it through these small gestures. It was his instinct to protect you at any given moment, even if he didn't notice what he was doing.

With one hand, you ran it through his hair, as a thanks. He leaned into your touch and relaxed his head on the side of your thigh that he was holding on to.

These were definitely one of your favourite moments with your dearly beloved.

NSFW

• It was hard at first (no pun intended) to have any private time.

• You had a lot of responsibilities in your kingdom and sometimes you were too tired after a full day of royal duties.

• If it was in your kingdom, it was in your room.

• You had to be quiet a lot of the time because of the staff who worked in the castle.

• But!

• You had a trick up your sleeve.

• You had a much smaller cottage hidden in the forest near the village. It was a place you often went to take a break from being Queen.

• It also turned into a common place for you a DK ;)

• His favourite thing was when you let your royal persona drop.

• When you weren't being serious, you allowed yourself to have all the fun you wanted.

• DK was a huge fan of using his hands.

• I mean... have you seen them?

• Edging you with his fingers before switching to his tongue was a common trick he used on you.

• You thought he'd become predictable.

• No.

• Somehow, it always took you by surprise.

• You loved riding him while his hands caressed your body.

• He loved when you took control, and you loved when he took control.

• Sharing is caring <3

• A more intimate position you two loved was you sitting in his lap, facing him.

• Sure, under the covers he may have been fucking you to the point your legs would shake, but your bodies were so close, so connected.

• Whether you maintained eye contact, made out passionately, or he was giving you hickeys all over your neck, you were so in love with him.

• Every time you two would have alone time, it was always fun.

• Never serious.

• And never boring.

~

Hello again! I apologise if this was a bit too long, but I didn't want to leave anything out :)

I hope you liked it @autistic-solar-fandom !

I'm currently writing a longer NSFW oneshot which will be posted in the next couple days. See you then!

[yumeka-sxf]

It's time for another merch post, my biggest one yet since I went kind of crazy for merch in Dec/Jan...my wallet is still recovering 😵‍💫 (also, I made scans of some of this merch in a previous post here if you haven't already seen).

First is one of two Mercari orders. I only intended to get the movie booklet (which I've posted about previously) but added some more stuff to make the shipping worthwhile!

I got the towel with the cruise arc outfits that's part of the merch line for the Tokai Steamship collab. It's a bit small, but I still love it!

I always liked the art for the Tower Records collab, so I got a poster! (the seller also included stickers and postcards).

I also like the art for the Cruise Buffet collab, so I got a paper placemat which makes a great poster! The seller shipped it in this nice plastic cover, so I decided to keep that on to protect it (they included a postcard too, which will be part of my next miscellaneous scans post 😁)

The below acrylic stands were recently released as part of the movie merch line (sold at theaters I believe). Anya had a couple different designs, including one where she's in a director's chair and one where she has 3D glasses. But I picked the one where she's eating popcorn since Bond is with her (gotta always get the whole family when I can!)

A couple weeks ago I took a trip to Animate, where they just happened to be having a SxF promotion where you'd get postcards of the new camping designs if you spent a certain amount on SxF merchandise. I bought the four camping acrylics, which was more than enough to get all the postcards 😊

Also picked up these two magazines, since a Kinokuniya store was at that mall as well (scans of these coming soon!)

Below is the second Mercari order!

I absolutely love these painting acrylics! They're definitely one of my favorite sets ❤️

Some acrylics from the movie! The big one in the middle is really cool, the background is reflective but transparent too.

I love the Waku Waku Park designs, but was only able to find acrylics of Anya & Bond. Hope to add Loid and Yor to the collection one day. So I just got a clear file in the meantime, lol.

Couldn't resist this adorable CODE: White overnight bag! I decided to use it to hold my many TCG decks 😅

And lastly (kinda of) was my usual Amiami preoder!

The "Anya helping with chores" designs are so cute, I got them as both acrylic stands (from Amiami) and reusable bags (from the aforementioned Mercari order).

I got more acrylics and postcards of the lovely kimono designs ❤️ (postcards scans coming soon!)

As I posted about previously, I got the Operation Diary video game along with these nice goodies that came with the preorder! (that keychain is rare official Twiyor merch 👀)

And I got even more TCG accessories! (another set of sleeves, a few deck boxes, a card box, and card holder).

The reason I've been getting so much TCG stuff, as well as why I said the Amiami order was only "sort of" the last of my merch from the past couple months, is because I had also preordered a case of SxF Weiss Schwarz cards! I preordered it back in August, and the set officially released in English last week...but that will be covered in another post, so stay tuned~

[blu-ish]

CHAPTER ONE

The sweet aroma of baked goods lingered on the blue hedgehogs nose. Carefully, he tucked a savory package of fresh cinnamon buns under his arm as he exited one of the many still holiday themed bakery's in Station Square.

Sonic didn't mind the almost subzero temperature that would sweep through the city during this time of year. He was a sight to behold in contrast to the bundled up mobians and humans alike that passed him on the sidewalk.

His only winter like accessory's included a bright red scarf that was wrapped firmly around his neck, along with some boots that resembled his regular shoes. He was dressed to impress so to speak.

Okay... so maybe he could've worn a even brighter--and warmer, coat or something; the cold was starting to nip him.

His light jog turned into a run as he maneuvered his way around town. The thrilled outcry of a small child spotting him, or the enthusiastic greetings from the townspeople mixed with the early morning rays helped to warmed him, just a little. Man it was cold out here...

But what really pulled Station Squares merry revelry together, was the towering tree at the city's center. It was like the cherry on top of a perfect freezing sundae.

Just as he was kicking up speed--and snow, he was suddenly stopped by the sound of a familiar worn voice calling to him, alongside the distinct smell of cucumber sandwiches.

"Why, if it isn't Sonic! How are you old friend?" The man, unlike Sonic, was bundled head to toe to fight off the cold, his comically large scarf only leaving his nose visible, muffling his voice ever so slightly--it was a miracle he heard him at all. His bushy eyebrows were dusted with hints of snowflakes.

Resisting the urge to chuckle at the mans failed attempt to take a bite of his sandwich, the hero instead gave him a bright smile.

"Professor Pickle! What brings you to Station Square?" It wasn't uncommon for the Professor to travel abroad, his places of study were usually all over Mobius.

"Oh, just making the yearly round to greet the family..." You couldn't tell, but his eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly. "You would not believe what utter nonsensical sentiments they have regarding my line of research and, oh! Oh, and my dear cousin Dona once again ever so slightly over roasted the roast, it was dreadful I tell you son."

Sonic furrowed his own brow--in a very serious manner, nodding along with the older man.

"Absolutely tragic."

"I know!"

After clearing his throat, the professor gestured toward the tree behind him.

"But enough about my sorrows, I simply had to marvel at this here deciduous tree! It is truly magnificent."

Sonic had to agree. Every year, everyone would come together to offer one decoration to add to the tree. Some people would work together to create some amazing stuff. But even the smallest and simple of ornaments made it that much more special. To him at least.

"If you don't mind me asking, did you happen to add anything? I would've loved to participate, its a shame we don't have anything like this is Spagonia, Oh that reminds me, I need to write a memo--"

"Sure did! Right around... here!" The hero quickly interjected to save the innocents of another Pickle prattle. Pointing a gloved hand toward the bottom of the tree, causing the professor to bend down to view it. Okay, it wasn't that far down come on...

"Ah, a glass keychain of some sort? Oh! A pressed flowered one at that! Did you make this yourself?"

"Well, Tails helped me a bit, I picked out the flowers though!" The hedgehog responded proudly. Sonic loved to collect little mementos from his adventures, he used to do it a lot as a hoglet. Flowers tended to be the easiest thing to grab on the go, but he would always tend to return with the crunchier versions of them later.

He was forever thankful to Tails for teaching him the wonders of modern flower pressing.

"It's wonderful, ah I spot some Strelitzia... oh! Bluebells and Borage too, my what a collection!"

"Thanks! I was able to shove a few more different kinds of flowers in there before Tails started to get worried." Sonic said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his quilled head. He really wanted to make it extra special.

"And what is it you have there?" Maybe he should start calling the Professor, Detective Pickle. That is, until he remembered what it was he was supposed to be doing at the moment.

"Oh shoot! I almost forgot, Tails wanted me to drop off these cinnamon buns at his place." The box was starting to feel a bit cold too.

Professor Pickle hummed, nodding toward the teen. "You should be on your way then, no use in small talk if those buns were to freeze!" He hurried the hog along, like he wasn't the one who stopped him in the first place.

Sonic agreed, well, he would've worded it WAY differently but, yeah he definitely needed to get going.

"Consider them delivered Professor!" he waved, starting his jog once more. He was only a few feet away when Pickle called out to him one last time.

"Oh! And let the boy know that my study in Apotos is prepared for his arrival!"

Oh, yeah.

That.

Sonic could've swore there was a small crack in the cement that almost caused him to fall, but he was able to right himself before sending a quick thumbs up to the Professor before speeding off.

He was being pretty forgetful today, huh?

-----

The young fox busied himself, removing just about the last of any remaining holiday lights from above his lab, tossing them into the large box below. He hummed along with the distant belated holiday songs playing on his speaker. What? He could end another great wintery season with a final round of some musical bangers.

Boxes began to pile up in the corner of Tails' garage, he occasionally checked his wristwatch. Where was that brother of his? It was almost noon and his music was starting to loop.

Gazing over the horizon, he spotted a familiar blue hue. His fangs stuck out in a smile, flying down to meet the other. He could almost taste those cinnamon buns!

"Sonic! Took you long enough!" He teased, landing over to try to take the box from his troublesome sibling. It would be like him to turn a small task into a half a days adventure, he presumed.

But before he even had the chance to seize the gooey goodness, the hedgehog hastily turn his back toward him. The fox stumbled a bit, eyeing Sonic bewilderedly, who was currently staring no where in particular with a overdramatic squint in his green eyes.

"What? Did someone order some tasty lukewarm cinnamon buns?" Oh no, not again. He wouldn't dare.

"Sonic, nooo!" Tails yelped, trying to force away the ever creeping urge to laugh, reaching around in an attempt to safely obtain his sustenance. "Come on!"

Sonic pulled off his spinning dramatics a bit longer, until he reached the entrance of the Tornado's garage. "Gotta package for uhhhh..." He checked the imaginary tag on the box, switching it in his hands to dodge the hungry kit.

"Whales Wower?"

Tails let out a loud groan, cracking Sonic's act in half as he burst out laughing. "Wow! You even sound like one dude!"

"Can I have my deserts now...?" The kid practically begged, his tails swinging in anticipation. He added the puppy dog eyes for safe measure.

The older smiled softly, ruffling the kits fur on his head. "Our deserts little brother..." Sonic reminded sweetly, helping himself to a few tasty buns after finally setting the box down on the fox's workbench.

Rolling his eyes, Tails sat down on a nearby chair, using his watch to close the garage door, shutting the cold out. He stuffed his face and pointed a questioning finger at his brother. "I thought you said it'll only, and I quote, take a sec?"

The accused put a hand on his peach furred chest, gasping. "I demand to speak to my lawyer!"

Tails awaited an answer, grabbing another helping of cinnamon buns, Sonic was sure they wouldn't last another 5 minutes.

"Alright, alright! So maybe I ran into a pickle, a certain one at that." It didn't take long for Tails' momentary confusion to change to understanding.

"Ooh! Professor Pickle!" He giggled, "I didn't know he was visiting, I would've at least invited him over." He did have some things he wanted to discuss with the Professor.

"I don't know Tails, he seemed pretty mesmerized with the winter tree in Station Square." Sonic recalled, "I even got some Pickle Points on my ornament this year!"

The kit side eyed him, causing the hedgehog to sputter momentarily.

"Y-You were credited!"

The brothers shared a laugh, it was cut short by Sonic, who's tone changed ever so slightly.

"Oh, and uh, he said to let ya know his place in Apotos is all set lil dude!" His attempt to raise a cheerful tone at the very end was painfully noticeable, well, if you were his brother that is.

Tails had finally made the plans to start off on his own adventure the start of the new year, so did most of his friends, including Sonic. Professor Pickle wouldn't be staying at one of his newer studies in Apotos, and offered to lend it to the fox, like his own base! It saved him time from gathering supplies to build a whole other lab and well...

It would be a big change, and his brother had been nothing but encouraging.

But as the start of the new year drew closer, so did Sonic in a way. Offering to do even the most minor tasks, reassuring Tails that if he ever needed him he would gladly run over the ocean to see him, double even triple checking if Tails had everything he needed. It was almost surreal.

He loved his brother, very much. But he could be such a mother hen when he wanted to be.

"That's great, I'm really looking forward to it." He responded, more gently than he hoped for, but Sonic nodded happily nevertheless.

"And you should!" Sonic exclaimed, his burning confidence seemingly resurfacing. "Man, I remember the desire for adventure at your age. Sleeping under the stars, eating leftover coconut shells..." Tails snorted, changing the subject before Sonic got too reminiscent with his questionable childhood habits.

"Yeah, yeah, okay old man," Reaching into the now empty box of cinnamon buns, the kit sighed, disposing of the cardboard. "What about you? You never really mentioned your plans besides, doing what you always do." He ended that last bit with long air quotations.

The hedgehog grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I say, the adventures tend to come to me before I go looking for them. I'm sure I can keep myself busy. Maybe I'll take Shadow on that racing offer he gave me during the winter festival."

"You mean the invitation to kick your butt after you somehow managed to accidently eat the rest of his parfait?" Tails added, throwing his brother a look.

"WHO EATS THOSE IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER?!"

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 18.2 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: Sex. SO MUCH ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose. Dub con (sort of?). References to medical trauma, miscarriage, infertility. Blood. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 16.3k (LOLOLOLOLOL)

A/N: Y'ALL, I'M SO SORRY, it's a monstrosity. I couldn't help it. There was just so much to be said while still in E's POV, so that's how we ended up here, over 16k. But we finally learn Elvis' BIG SECRET and experience the mighty fallout from that in his eyes, so hopefully it's worth it. This is my Thanksgiving gift to all of you, but you may want to pace yourselves. I feel like I had to rip my heart out a little bit to really get in E's headspace. Prepare yourselves emotionally. That's all I will say.

A quick note about the pictures...the first is actually from when he bought Graceland in March 1957 and it just works PERFECTLY for the beginning. I couldn't resist the pics from Red West's wedding in 1961, even though I know the timeline and the people don't match but the VIBES, the VIBES my friends, are oh so Jack and Reader's wedding so I just had to include them. The one for 1960 was taken the night of the Rollerdome. *sob*

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

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY which is always evident but especially so when someone tried to steal PS last week and y'all went 'ride or die' for me instantly, without question, getting it taken down in record time. I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

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

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

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

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

(Elvis in March 1957, Graceland)

March 1957

Elvis parks in front of your house, his mind whirling with noise. He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, but as soon as he’d gotten off that train, he knew he needed something that he couldn’t get from any of the guys or even his mama. So, he finds himself unexpectedly here.

Turning off the car, he seeks any sort of relief from the heartache he feels. He’s been holding it all in since the train stop in New Orleans, the one that sent the world crumbling under his feet, destroying the pretty picture he’d had for the future. But all that is gone now and here he sits, hands tapping on the steering wheel with nervous energy.

He nods to himself, finally leaping out of the car, and then he saunters down the walkway to the front door. The chime of the doorbell can be heard through the door, and he listens carefully, grateful to hear light footsteps from beyond.

When you open the door, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time since the train pulled away in New Orleans. You look surprised to see him, those big eyes of yours widening the slightest before you speak.

“Elvis, you’re home?” you ask with a hint of confusion, but overall, you seem pleased at finding him on your doorstep.

“Just got in, baby,” he says, that boyish smile curving up. He gathers you up into a big bear hug and instantly feels better as he breathes in the unique scent of your shampoo and lingering perfume. A scent that feels like home.

“And you came right here?” you ask, brow furrowing when he pulls away. He notices that you look a bit worn around the edges, darker circles rimming your eyes as if you haven’t been sleeping well.

You’re right to be confused. Of course, he hadn’t planned to see you right away. He’d planned to sweep June off her feet in New Orleans, wanting to show her Graceland immediately, the home he’d thought they’d share together for the rest of their lives. But all that had been dashed as soon as she’d blurted out that she was engaged to another man. Engaged. His June.

“I want to show ya something,” he blurts out instead of saying any of this. “It’s a surprise! Will ya come?” Oh, god, you have to come, he thinks. His heart might shatter if you don’t, though he’s not exactly sure why. You’re not his—you and Jack have been dating for nearly a year—so it’s not as though if you don’t come that it really means anything. Yet, still he hopes. He needs this. He needs to share this moment with someone he cares about.

Despite the fatigue in your eyes, you nod quickly, and then as if you can’t leave the house fast enough, you grab your purse and coat and shut the door behind you without a word.

He smiles gratefully, and relieved, he grabs your hand and practically skips to the car. Once he has you tucked in safely, he runs around the front of the Cadillac, jumps in, and peels away. It’s not too far of a drive, and he yammers on about the last few months he’s been away, the words flying out of him. You nod and ask all the right questions, but he notices that you are pensive, quieter than usual.

His verbal diarrhea halts for long enough for his brain to take into account that you don’t seem your usual self, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

You look down at your hands and then out the window, as if contemplating if and how much to share, which makes him a little nervous. Your fingers twist in your lap.

“Honestly? It’s been a hard few weeks, E,” you finally say, still unable to meet his eyes. “My nana passed last Tuesday.”

He’s mortified that he’d just been going on and on about himself and here you were dealing with such a loss. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I know how close you two were,” he says remorsefully, reaching his hand over to clasp one of yours.

You shake your head, sniffling back tears. “It’s okay, you’ve been away. There was no way for you to know. And I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now, but that doesn’t really help all that much. I guess it still doesn’t seem real.”

He nods, because he can’t seem to think of anything to say that will make any of this better for you. “We can do this another time, baby, if you’re not feeling up to it,” he finally gets out.

“No, no. I need something to do instead of moping around the house. I’m worn from being sad and worrying about the rest of it. No, I’m glad you showed up, E. I can’t wait to see your surprise,” you add quickly, trying for a smile.

“The rest of it? What’re you so worried about, baby?” It’s obvious you don’t expect him to pick up on that because he sees the quick look of panic that flashes over your face at the question, so he’s quick to add, “I mean, you don’t hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna, but I can tell somethin’ else is weighin’ on ya.”

“You could say that,” you sigh, raising your eyes to the roof and back down again. The twisting fingers are back. “God knows I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s giving me these terrible headaches.” You pinch the bridge of your nose for respite. “I…well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you, Elvis, because it’s about Jack, and I really don’t want him to think I’m running around telling everyone our business.”

A warning rush rolls over him at this because he suddenly and very desperately wants to know what has happened with Jack, and that is a dangerous game for all kinds of reasons, many of which he’s not ready to admit to himself.

“I swear and cross my heart I won’t say a word, if you wanna tell me,” he says instead, a little too eagerly, so he quickly adds, “If it’ll help ya feel better and all.”

He forces himself to watch the road and not you, but he can practically hear your mind whirring.

“Oh, fine, but not a word out of you to anyone, Elvis Presley, I mean it. I know how bad you are with secrets,” you glare at him.

“I promise, I promise!” he concedes, crossing his heart. “I swear on my mama!”

“Well, in the midst of all this with Nana, I found out that Jack was dating other women a while back while we were going together. Apparently, I thought we were exclusive, but he didn’t, and well…” you trail off bitterly.

Elvis has to bite his tongue and bite it hard because somehow this wasn’t what he expected, and oh, lord, he knows too much for comfort.

Thankfully, you take this as him listening intently, because you continue, “I know I shouldn’t be too mad at him. I suppose it’s an honest mistake, seeing as maybe we didn’t communicate clearly enough about where we stood with each other. But it was so obvious to me, and I don’t understand how it wasn’t obvious to him. It’s not like I was going around with other guys all the time! I know it was months ago, but damn if it doesn’t really sting. Part of me feels like such an idiot, you know? What else don’t I know about him and what he’s doing? It just makes it hard to trust him, even though he was truthful about it when I asked.” He can sense the conflict in you, as your voice fills and shakes with the emotion of your held-back tears.

His heart is beating fast now, and all he is seemingly able to do is nod furiously, as if agreeing vehemently with all you are saying. The problem is that Elvis is complicit in all this and you have no idea. You have no idea that he was the one who pushed the showgirls onto Jack when he came to visit him in Vegas in November. You have no idea that “dating” didn’t have much to do with it at all. And now he feels altogether shitty for being the one to put Jack in that position in the first place. He’d managed to spread his own unfaithfulness and debauchery right on over to Jack, and now you are the one paying for it.

Shit.

Although, knowing Jack, it’s also possible that there was other dating happening, too. Either way, Elvis knows he’s got to tread real careful here and needs to keep his trap shut.

But Elvis can’t stand that hurt look in your eyes when he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you. He hates how angry and sad you look, the blue-black circles under your eyes conveying your distress.

And his emotions feel complicated, too complicated for comfort. He suddenly wonders if he didn’t present Jack with those temptations on purpose because there is a very deep and selfish part of him that desperately wants you to kick Jack to the curb for this, and that terrible, selfish part of him wants you to finally see Elvis in the same way he sees you.

Maybe there’s a reason that things didn’t work out with June, that voice pokes at him hopefully.

Stop that shit right now.

All this is playing through his head and leaving him outwardly silent. He realizes he has to say something, anything, because you are waiting for him to do so.

“I-I’m sorry that happened, ‘specially finding out at the same time as all this with your Nana. W-What are you gonna do about Jack?” he says, trying not to gulp.

He watches your eyes narrow and then he quickly looks back at the road. He can feel you shift in your seat.

“I…well, right now, I wanna pummel his brains out, so I told him I need some space to figure out what I want to do. I just—I thought we…” you trail off dismally. “I don’t want to go through this again,” you add quietly.

Elvis knows you are talking about Ted. Stupid Teddy who stepped out and got Judy Cole knocked up and then left you brokenhearted in his wake. It still pisses him off, even though he knows he’s got no right to judge Ted, not now, not after all the foolin’ around he’s done.

But when it comes to you, he can’t help but be protective. It’s in his bones, the way he wants to take care of you. In fact, he wouldn’t mind punching Jack in the face right about now for hurting you like this. And he’s even more pissed at himself for his part in it all.

Elvis just wants you to be happy and to be with a man who deserves you, and deep down, he doesn’t know if that man is Jack, even though he loves Jack like a brother. But the real problem is he’s not sure if he thinks any man will ever be good enough for you.

But his brain is wary to dwell on the meaning of that, wanting to avoid anything else that feels uncomfortable, so instead, he lets the excitement of showing you his new home overshadow any other unwanted feelings he might be experiencing.

“Okay, baby, we’re almost there, so close your eyes,” he says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, before pulling up the long drive.

“Alright, Elvis, this better be a big surprise with how hyped up you are,” you chuckle, letting the mood turn by doing as you are told.

“The biggest,” he breathes, sliding to a stop in front of the Colonial mansion. “Don’t open your eyes yet! I’ll come around!”

You wait until you hear the car door open and feel his hand take yours. He gently brings you out of the car to standing, an excited energy vibrating through him.

“Okay, darlin’, open!” he drawls dramatically.

You do, blinking out the early Spring sunlight. He watches your face light up as you take in the architecture.

“Oh my god, Elvis, it’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, baby, it’ll be all mine very soon. And for Mama and Daddy, of course,” he adds hastily, as if you’d thought he’d abandon his parents.

“Of course,” you smile, looking at him with those pretty, though tired, eyes of yours. “Can we go inside?” you ask.

All he can do is nod excitedly. Elvis takes your hand, pulling you up the steps and past the huge white columns on either side. He can’t unlock the door fast enough, the keys rattling and shaking in his hands. Once inside, he pulls you through the house, mouth running a mile a minute about what he wants to do in each room, how he wants it to look.

Finally, you make it to the top level, the last room. “This is gonna be my bedroom,” he rambles on. “I’m gonna get the biggest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, made special.”

You gently pull your hand out of his, and he watches as you take a small pill bottle out of your purse and pop two of the pills before downing them dry. Aspirin, probably, for the headache you were talking about in the car.

“E, stop a minute,” you say. “This is all amazingly wonderful and beautiful, and I am so excited for you, but…well, what exactly am I doing here?” You look at him with curious and concerned eyes.

“I…uh…I…,” he stammers, unsure of what to say or how to say it, as it’s all been spinning inside for hours and hours. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes. He certainly doesn’t want to put any of his stuff onto you, not now, not after what you told him earlier. His hands fall to his sides, and he shakes them, wiggling his fingers like he does to come down after a show. It doesn’t help. There’s just too much emotion rolling through him all the sudden.

You step to him, first putting your hands on his shoulders, then you run them gently down his arms before grabbing his flailing hands, absorbing some of that wild energy. The feeling still manages to send little electric shocks through him, even after all this time. Only then does he finally still and dare to look at you.

“E, what’s wrong? You let me talk earlier, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you ask, your eyes searching his, open and concerned. He should’ve known you’d see right through him. Maybe that’s why you’re here, because he knew you’d understand, that you’d be able to tell he wasn’t okay when no one else cared to.

It takes a moment for him to gather his words as his emotions get in the way. Emotions he stoically hid from the guys the rest of the way to Memphis. Emotions he pushed down when he saw his mama because he just couldn’t bear to break her heart yet with the news. God, he’s spent so much time recently learning how to hide everything real about himself in order to become the man everyone wants him to be. But here, now, with you, it all begins to overflow.

“I-I-I told June to meet me in New Orleans. I-I w-w-was gonna bring her back here, to show her w-what I-I wanted to buy…for us,” he says, bouncing on his toes, tears welling and clouding his vision. He hates how it’s tearing him in two to say this.

You squeeze his hands, urging him to continue, and for you, he does.

“But when I-I got there, she was acting so strange. There w-wasn’t much time and, uh, she told me she’s engaged to someone else.” He blinks and the tears run over, finally spilling down his cheeks. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it feel all too real. His chest aches with betrayal, with loss.

You look at him with such care, though you do not look shocked at this news.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, E. I know you how much you loved her,” you say, squeezing his hands again gently.

‘Loved.’ As in past tense.

“Did you know?” he asks suddenly, stepping back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

You take a conscious deep breath. “No, I didn’t. But she did call me a few times wondering where you were, if you were okay. She said she hadn’t heard from you in months…” you say awkwardly, petering off.

“Aw, shit,” he curses, running a hand through his greased hair. A wave of anger rolls through him, burning him from the inside, but as much as he wants to put it on June and her spiteful engagement, he knows the anger is mostly towards himself. He fucked up. He fucked around. And he’d expected June to just sit back and wait for him while he did it. He didn’t even make the time to call her.

And you know what he’s done. He can see it on your face. He looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

You don’t speak. You don’t lay into him or tell him he’s an asshole, although it might be better if you did. God knows he’s already thinking it. You just look at him with sadness and understanding and forgiveness, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

With that ache in his heart, he finally realizes that he couldn’t have loved June the way he said he did and then leave her hanging like that. But he did love her…at least, he had. They’d had such a beautiful summer together and he was sure he wanted to marry her, once his fame was settled. Three years, he’d told her.

Shit, I didn’t even make it six months, he thinks absently.

And then everything changed almost overnight. His fame exploded. There was Hollywood, then Vegas. And the girls, good god, there were so many beautiful girls who wanted him, needed him, who threw themselves at him. He’d been weak. He hated being alone. He couldn’t help it. It was just sex, he’d told himself, just a way to blow off steam as his world became smaller and smaller and nearly suffocated him. A thousand excuses run through his head, but in the end, it was his choice not to pick up the phone. It was his choice to screw around, to live this life.

It’s no wonder that June moved on, he thinks. I’m a first-rate asshole.

“Y/n, I messed it all up,” Elvis finally chokes out. The sob fully breaks the dam holding him together, the pressures of his fame and the realization hitting him like a truck: he is never going to be able to have that normal life with a wife and kids he’d once dreamed of. His knees buckle under the weight of all of it—his decisions, both good and bad, the fame he doesn’t know what to do with, the unexpected consequences of this privileged but isolating life he’s chosen.

He sinks to his knees, defeated, on the carpet of his future bedroom, the one he’ll probably never share with someone who loves him for who he truly is. Because he isn’t just Elvis Aron Presley anymore—he is “Elvis Presley,” the celebrity, the commodity, the fantasy.

While he relishes in the luxuries of it all, in being able to provide the life his family deserves, a small part of him cannot help but feel like he’s made a deal with the devil. That this talent he has been blessed with will also be the thing that damns him. He is overcome by the feeling that he’ll never know ever again if he is loved for who he really is, or if it is his fame and his image they love. And there is something about that that crushes his soul.

But he can’t say all this to you because it sounds dramatic and indulgent, and he knows there are very few people in this world who’d actually understand.  This is his cross to bear.

And yet you still comfort him. You are still here. “Oh, hon, I know. It’s okay, I know,” you say, kneeling down with him.

In the midst of all he’s achieved and gained these past few years, June is the representation of all that he stands to lose, all that he’s already lost. “She was my last chance, y/n. I’m never gonna be able to trust that a woman loves me for me and not for my fame after this. And I screwed it all up,” he says quietly, tears running freely. “I just feel so fucking alone.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Elvis, it’s not,” you say, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll find her, I know you will. And you have so many people who love you for just being you, not for the fancy cars or the mansion or the fame. You’ve got your family, you’ve got Jack and your true friends. And you’ve got me.”

The way you say it, so softly, yet so matter-of-fact hits him hard, so hard that his heart stops beating for a moment. If he wasn’t already kneeling, the honest way your tired yet beautiful eyes search his face might knock him right off his feet.

It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, he thinks suddenly. This is the feeling he was avoiding in the car. The feeling he’s been avoiding since he watched Jack kiss your cheek in the diner a year ago.

It takes his breath away. You take his breath away, you always have. He’s been enamored with you since you plowed into him all those years ago in the hallway at Humes High.

Suddenly, June is all but forgotten because you reach up, cupping his face in your cold little hands and wipe a tear off his cheek. He cannot help the way his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of the pad of your thumb dragging softly across his face. His breathing, rapid from his cries is now labored for another reason entirely.

Opening his eyes slowly, he shouldn’t be shocked to see tears in yours, your grief and sorrow, not only for yourself, but for him, too, welling there, as if you are connected to him. In fact, Elvis feels like his brain is short-circuiting because you are too damn close and the tension in the room is suddenly so thick, he feels like he might suffocate.  

Every cell in his body feels on fire as you lean in closer and closer until your lips press against his forehead. You’ve never kissed him, not once in all these years, and this alone sends heat rushing through his young body. Then when you kiss his nose, and then one tear-stained cheek, he holds his breath, feeling like he might die from this chaste sensation.

Warning bells explode in his brain because suddenly he wants you more than anything in this world, always has. And now you are so close. This is Jack’s girl, he thinks, and she’s my dear friend. Don’t be an idiot.

But when you lean in to kiss his other cheek, you place your lips alarmingly close to his, his tears wet underneath your soft lips, and his body is on high alert as only a twenty-two-year-old’s could be. His heart flutters as you pull back just enough to look deeply into his eyes, tears shining in your own, and then you lean in once more.

This can’t be happening. This should not be happening, his mind screams, but then your lips are grazing his and all rational thought ceases to exist.

You taste so sweet.

Heat blooms through the ache in his chest, and in his disbelief, he freezes. Part of him wants to devour you whole, but he is terrified that if he moves, he might spook you and he cannot bear that.

His confusion is overridden when your hands, shaking but demanding, pull him closer. Your lips are soft and sure, and he cannot help but be swept away by them. He’s kissed so many girls, too many to count, all over the country, but not one has ever made him feel like this, like his heart is going to leap out of his damn chest.

But this is a betrayal of a monumental kind, for both of you. While he is no stranger to betrayal, he does not want this for you. As much as he wants you with every fiber of his being, he does not want to be the source of your regret or heartache. He’s already done enough in that regard already, though you don’t know it. Mustering up every ounce of his self-control, Elvis pulls out of your kiss.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this. I’m no good for you this way,” Elvis says in a hushed tone, his forehead resting against yours. “I-I can’t have you regretting me, I-I-I couldn’t bear it.”

You lean back the slightest bit, and he thinks you might be listening, reconsidering, making him feel mostly dismay but also a little relief. What he does not expect is for you to press your little pointer finger up against his lips, hushing him, as you stare into his eyes. It’s as though your soul is as weary and needy as his and it feels as though you see him, truly see him, which is a new feeling for him. This sends a welcoming shiver down his spine, and he knows that despite every scrap of logic and propriety he is trying to lean on, with you he is powerless.

When your finger drags down his lips, catching on the bottom one, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Yet still he resists (even though he wants more than anything to see where this is going), thinking you might realize your mistake, and this will all be over in an embarrassed, yet still salvageable, flash.

Instead, you very deliberately scoot closer, your knees bumping his on the carpet. You lean in again, your lips grazing his again with a yearning he cannot help but return in kind. It’s barely a kiss, but the intent is there and when you pull up, effectively opening your mouth to him, the way he can feel your warm breath mingling with his own has him struggling to control himself.

You are testing him, testing the waters, hesitant but somehow insistent at the same time. His long lashes flutter closed when your fingers brush his jaw then rake into his perfectly styled hair. But it’s when the tip of your tongue touches his, sending a hot shockwave through him, that he can stand it no longer and closes the gap between your mouths with a longing sigh.

Pressing his pliant lips to your yielding ones, he rolls his tongue softly but firmly against yours, earning him a quiet moan from you. This is like fuel on the fire, finally spurring him into action, and his hands fly to the back of your head, pulling you closer.

If there is one thing besides music that Elvis excels at and loves to do, it’s kissing. He plays with it the same way he plays a crowd, listening to you and adjusting his performance as necessary. The buzzy way it makes him feel, like every nerve is magnetic, is one of the only things in this world that is anything like how it feels for him to perform for an audience. He loves the way it makes him feel.

But kissing you is unlike anything Elvis has experienced before. It’s as though you are tuned to the exact same frequency, finding his rhythm immediately, adapting easily. The usual fumbling of people getting acquainted in this way does not seem to apply to the two of you, the ebb and flow so natural it’s as though you had done this with each other many times before.

But the passion of it stokes a fire that has been denied a long time. Intense heat crashes over him, sending tendrils of warmth through his limbs and deep into his belly. He drinks you in as deep as he can without being desperate, and oh how close he is to being desperate for you. His grief over June melts away the more he tastes you, and he wonders how he ever lived before having the taste of your lips on his.

It's all very dramatic and romantic, which he is both at heart. From just a few kisses, he suddenly knows that if he could kiss you and only you for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man indeed. This surprises him.

But what truly shocks him is when you lean so far into him that it pushes him over, his knees screaming a little, and he falls back into the wall with a thump. He scrambles backwards, maneuvering his long legs into a more comfortable seated position while you don’t even miss a beat or attempt to come up for air. And when you crawl into his lap, hoisting the flowing fabric of your dress up just enough so your warm, bare thighs are straddling his, his heart actually flies right out of his goddamned chest.

Speaking of which, you are currently running your hands down his, pulling his silky shirt up enough to dance your fingertips over his stomach. His breath hitches then hisses at that, his arms involuntarily encompassing you, large hands splaying across your back to draw you ever nearer.

And you go willingly, inching up his lap until you are straddling his hips. When you grind down into his lap, he thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven, his blue eyes rolling back into his head with a low moan.

He'll admit he’s dreamed of this, fantasized about this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of the way you are making him feel. A trickle of attraction that began six years ago is now a roaring river, and is so, so much more than anything he’s felt before with anyone else.

He doesn’t understand it. He loves women. He always falls in love too fast, enjoying the rapid descent into the madness of it all. There have only been a few that he feels were true, though every girl he’s with, he loves in his own way.

But you are not like any of them, not at all. With you, it has been slow, so gradual sometimes that he didn’t even realize it. A teenage crush turned into friendship, and within that has blossomed a love that he didn’t know he was capable of. It is not until this very instant that he realizes it truly for what it has become. He doesn’t just care for you. He loves you.

He is in love with you.

Fuck.

Realizing this as your hips begin to rock steadily over his crotch is not the best timing. He’s as hard as a rock, fighting both the swell of his physical need for you while wrestling with the emotional needs he’s quickly realizing at the same time.

If he didn’t love you, he might not care if this is just a quick fuck between friends, but he does care. And he’s worried about where this is coming from, likely your overall grief and your anger at Jack. No, he doesn’t like the messiness of that at all.

But another grind of your pelvis into his, coupled with your tongue down his throat has the physical quickly taking over any and all rational thought. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. And he desperately wants to give you what you need, which based on the mewls escaping your lips, is a physical release, a connection.

God, he can feel the wet heat of your cunt now through your panties and his pants as you slide over his length, back and forth, again and again. He clings to you as your hands wind through his hair, burying his head in your neck, his lips taking in as much of your skin as he can. He revels in the scent of you, your perfume and your irresistible musk that is permeating the room. He is positively dizzy with it.

You are frantic in his lap now, chasing something he’s not entirely sure you’ve ever had. He knows about Ted, but he highly doubts Ted knew what to do with you. And with Jack, well, he’s not sure how far the two of you have gone, but he can only guess based on Jack’s recent actions and your desperation for no one to know that Ted had popped your cherry that you’ve been trying to be good and pure and wait.

But as you reach for his belt, pawing at him, for the first time in this whole event, he gets the distinct impression that you’re not sure what to do next, only that you are needy for something. And goddamn him, he is willing to give you what you need, but only if you really understand what it is you’re asking for.

“Wait, baby, just…wait,” Elvis pants, stilling your hips with one hand while grabbing the hand at his belt with the other. You whimper a little at the interruption, rolling your hips for emphasis, but despite the groan he can’t help, he’s having none of that.

“Baby, I need to know that you really want this,” he says, brushing your hair off your deliciously pink cheeks, your lips swollen from his kisses. He looks into your eyes, almost getting lost in them and forgetting what he set out to do. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and then add, “Elvis, please,” in a begging tone that sets him completely aflame.

“Oh, damn, okay, baby, okay,” he breathes, barely able to contain himself with that. He’s only human, after all. He races to help you with his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his legs in record time, his erection springing free, precum already glistening the tip. You lift up on your knees, you move your panties aside, and touching the silky soft skin of his cock, you help him line up with your entrance. He can’t help but gasp at the feeling of your cool little fingers circling his shaft, losing it a little more when he feels how incredibly soaked you already are.

He can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But all logic is gone from him, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth and the wetness of your pussy and his desperate need for whatever love you have to give him.

He watches as you bite your lip in concentration, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in. You are incredibly tight around the sensitive tip of his cock, and he moans a little at the constriction. That’s when he knows for sure that no one else has touched you like this for a long time. You aren’t ready for him, not yet.

Reaching under your skirt, he deftly finds the delicate little bundle of nerves there and begins to work it ever so gently. He shifts his hips down, his cock regretfully released from your hold on it. Sliding his fingers through your folds (oh, god), he gently slips one finger into your tight heat, then two, allowing you to adjust around him before pumping them in and out. Your eyes go wide and you gasp with the intrusion, but then they flutter closed with a sigh, and then another, and another before your hips begin to rock again.

He watches you in your ecstasy, taking in every delectable reaction he can and committing it to memory. The way your brow scrunches and your mouth falls open into a little O. The feel of your thighs clenching around his hand as he massages and fingers your dripping pussy. Those alluring little breathy moans escaping your lips. Every part of you has him completely mesmerized and he knows it. He knows his mouth is agape and he is moaning softly right along with you. He is so aroused just by watching you, he feels like he could come without you even touching him.

“E, I need more…I need you,” you breathe with your eyes closed and brow concentrated, and oh sweet lord, those might be the best words in the English language with the way they come out of your mouth.

He is utterly unable to deny you this. He can’t even speak, he just pulls his fingers out of you, lifts your hips, and maneuvers his cock back to the place it wants to be most. And you are more ready for him now, your tightness yielding much more easily around the sensitive tip of him.

It’s in that moment, as you sink down ever-so-slowly onto him and he is enveloped by your wet heat, that Elvis realizes he is utterly ruined for any other woman, ever. They cannot and will not ever hold a candle to you. He should’ve known before. He should’ve stopped this while he still could. But as you finally settle in his lap, taking him in completely, your fingers relaxing and your eyes bright and glassy, he knows he is well and truly fucked in every way.

He kisses you deeply again and again, memorizing your mouth, as you begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. You feel so good, so completely perfect, it’s as if you were made just for him. He is drunk on you, hands wandering your body, finding what makes you keen, and he’s unable to get enough of you.

But you are so needy and ready that unfortunately it doesn’t take very long of you riding him and him playing with your clit for you to begin falling apart at the seams. Based on your surprised gasps, he’s not sure you’ve ever come before, so he does his best to help you get there while holding on to his own release for dear life. You begin to shudder around him, clenching his length, and with a strangled moan you hit your peak. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way you are coming undone on top of him, around him, your eyelashes fluttering closed and then popping open, all wild-eyed and rosy cheeked as the hushed sound of his name falls out of your perfect mouth.

He's so fucking enraptured that his orgasm hits harder and faster than expected, chasing yours almost immediately, not giving him time to pull out like he should have. But he can’t bring himself to care because it’s all you. All he’s ever wanted or needed—it’s you.

Oh, sweet Christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, he chants in his mind as he follows you over the edge.

He clings to you, head pressed into your breasts as he pulses hard into your warmth with a grunt, then stays there as he comes down from the high. And then you are both gasping in the silence, and there is an air of disbelief that fills the room that the two of you just did that, together.

This is making love, he realizes suddenly. It must be, considering the incredibly overwhelming feelings he has for you that are pouring through him in unreasonable amounts. He never wants to let you go, not ever.

He pulls back enough to kiss you tenderly, lingering a little too long. There is a sinking, nearly unbearable feeling that this may never happen again, and it threatens to break him, so he pushes it as far away as it will go.

You press your forehead to his, silent, you still enveloping him as he eventually begins to soften inside you. Neither of you rushes to move. He cannot read what you are thinking and that makes him nervous.

“Are you okay?” he finally whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nod but say nothing.

“Okay, baby.”

You both sit there a while, simmering in what you have done, and he wishes you would say something, say anything at all to let him know what is going on in that head of yours. But you are quiet, unreadable.

Finally, you remove yourself from his lap and stumble your way into the ensuite bathroom to clean up.

Elvis runs a hand down his face, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and sweat that has collected there. He uses his handkerchief to wipe himself off and then puts himself back together. Blissed out in his refraction, he is so full of love for you that he almost can’t stand it. He thought he’d known love before, and perhaps he did, but this realization of love for you is so big that he doesn’t know what to do with it. God, he feels like with you by his side, he could conquer the damn world.

But you’re not his girl.

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

His head falls back onto the wall with a thump.

Somehow, he’s both on top of the world and completely buried by it at the same time. You interrupt his thoughts, coming back in quietly and falling, exhausted, into his arms. He takes off his coat and puts it on top of you both. He can’t help but pull you closer, up into his lap, so your head rests against his chest. This is where you are supposed to be, he can’t help but think.

He knows the two of you need to talk about this. While he has been having his epiphany, he has absolutely no idea what you are thinking. He has no clue if you feel anything even close to what he feels for you. It is possible that all of this was just some sort of revenge on Jack, and that breaks his heart a little. And even if you did do it for that reason, you chose him. You felt safe enough with him to choose him.

But something deep inside him tells him it isn’t just that, not with the way you kissed him, not with the way he felt like his damn soul was connecting with yours. That deep connection he’s always felt to you, it can’t possibly be one-way.

But what if it is? a worried little voice creeps in.

He wants to ask you, but he looks down and sees you passed out on his chest. Fatigue begins to hit him, as he hasn’t slept in over a day.

It’s not long before he, too, falls into an exhausted slumber.

*

He’s not sure how long you sleep, but when he wakes, the sun has moved and the room is nearly dark. Disoriented, it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s you in his arms, and when he remembers why, his cheeks flame with heat.

Oh. Oh.

Drowsy, he rubs his eyes with one hand, trying to wake up. As the memories of your lovemaking resurface, his heart beats faster, and he knows the moment you wake you will both have to face what you’ve done. You’ll have to decide what comes next. And more than anything, the hopeful little voice inside him realizes that he wants to share this all with you—that’s why it is you he brought to Graceland today, and why it was so important to him that you like it.

“Y/n, honey, wake up,” he says quietly, not wanting to shock you awake, but you don’t even stir. He shifts under you, hoping that might get you moving, but you just lie there.

“Hey, baby, it’s time to wake up,” he says at full voice now, but you remain still, too still, and silent.

His heart starts to pound. Something isn’t right.

“Y/n! Honey, I need you to wake up!” He is getting frantic now, his hand gently tapping your face, which feels too cold. But still, you do not wake.

“Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, wake up!” He shakes you. Panic and confusion roll over him as he tries to figure out why you are knocked out. His sleep-addled brain runs through what happened before you both fell asleep, before you made love.

Her headache, he thinks. She took pills for her headache.

He had thought they were aspirin, but as he frantically rummages through her purse, pulling out the little prescription bottle, he reads “Percodan, one tablet every 6 hours for pain and sleep relief” on the label.

Elvis swears you took two tablets, not one, way too much for a girl your size. You hadn’t read the bottle.

Shit.

Having been in Hollywood, he knows that this happens. People overdose from taking these narcotics, usually to get high, but he knows that you did it on accident. Based on how full the bottle is, he’s guessing that you maybe hadn’t even taken the meds before today.

Regardless, he’s not taking any chances with you. There’s no phone hooked up at the house, so with his adrenaline now working overtime, he lifts your unconscious form and quickly carries you to the car. He peals out, driving to Baptist Memorial Hospital as fast as he possibly can.

The those few hours are some of the most terrifying of his life.

He bites every nail down to the quick in that waiting room, pacing there as your family sits, equally worried. He can’t help but feel that they are judging him for letting this happen, even though it was an accident.

He can’t bring himself to call Jack.

Guilt eats away at him, even though he knows he had no idea about the pills, but if he hadn’t fallen asleep, maybe he would’ve realized sooner that something was wrong. Part of him feels like this is punishment for his sins, for what he let happen in the house. He prays and prays to God, harder than he’s ever prayed before.

Please, God, I love her. I can’t lose her. Do what you want to me, just let her be okay.

His prayers work.

You wake up. The doctors say you are going to make a full recovery. His heart nearly explodes with relief.

He offers to stay while your family goes home to get some rest. It is past visiting hours, but being Memphis’ own superstar, the nurses take pity on him and let him stay, as long as he doesn’t keep you awake.

When you finally stir, it’s the middle of the night.

“E—Elvis?” you croak. “What happened? Where am I?”

He sits up straight and leans forward to take your cold little hand in his. “Y/n! Oh, baby, you took too many of your headache pills and I couldn’t wake you up. You scared the hell outta me. You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Wake me up? Why—why was I asleep?” your brow furrows in confusion.

His heart drops into his stomach, dread like ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he must:

“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?”

Obviously still groggy, you close your eyes for a moment to think. “Um, I remember you picked me up and took me to…to your new house,” you say, then your eyes pop open, “You were showing me your beautiful new house, and then my headache got really bad, so I took some of my pills, and then…” You stop, looking at him blankly. “And after that, I don’t remember. You said I fell asleep?”

Oh, God, no. No, no, no. He feels like he’s going to vomit.

The force of his dread hits him like a tsunami as he runs through what happened in his head again. You took the pills first and then he told you about June and then you kissed him.

But you don’t remember. You don’t remember because you were accidentally fucking high.

“Elvis, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you say.

“Sorry, baby, I-I-I was just really worried about you, is all. I-I guess it’s all kinda hittin’ me at o-once, now that you���re o-o-okay,” he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking, unable to keep from stuttering through the half-truth.

“Please, go get some rest, E. I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep for days…” you say, drowsily, eyes fluttering closed.

“Okay, okay, baby, I will…Get some rest,” he says, kissing you on the top of your head as you drift back into slumber.

In a panicked daze, he manages to make it down the hallway and to the men’s room before his stomach rolls and he is violently sick into the toilet.

Oh, sweet Lord, he took advantage of you. You were drugged and didn’t know what you were doing, and he had sex with you.

He vomits again, tears running down his face.

I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have ever let it happen if I’d known! I would never hurt her! the reasonable part of his brain cries out.

Shame eats at him from deep inside, cutting him. He deserves it.

How could he do this? How could he let this happen?

I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment she kissed me that she wasn’t in her right mind.

But he didn’t, and what the hell does that say about him? He’s fucking selfish and he took something from you that you weren’t in your right mind to give.

He dry heaves, wanting desperately to expel his regret but knowing that he never will, not until the day he dies.

And what’s even worse is that he is still left with the fact that he is desperately in love with you. You don’t remember what, up until a few minutes ago, was one of the most amazing moments of his young life. You can’t share that with him. And that makes him feel even more selfish because the last thing he should be thinking of is his own damn feelings.

Sitting there on the cold floor, he tries to convince himself it’s for the best. It’s much less complicated for you this way. For you, there was no betrayal. For you, making love with him can never be a mistake you once made in a moment of anger and desperation. For you, there is only the love of friendship between you two.

Yes, it’s better this way, he thinks. He can carry the burden for both of you. He deserves to.

Because he knows he cannot give you what you need. He cannot be there for you, day in and day out, holding you tight and keeping you safe. Especially not now. Not after what he’s done.

He has to lock this away. You can never know, not ever. He must protect you from this and from his guilt. He knows you wouldn’t be able to look at him if you knew.

Oh, God. Please forgive me.

He can’t stop crying. He has to stop crying because he has to go out there and he has to look fine. He has to be fine, for your sake. You’re alive and going to be okay, and it’s that which he latches onto as a mantra in order to slide into the persona that has made his name.  

He manages to make it to the car without losing it again, as the dawn starts to break on another day. He can’t bring himself to go home; he can’t look his mother in the eye right now. So, he drives aimlessly, for hours, his sins eating away at him until he finds himself at the church.

He waits for Reverend Hamill in a pew, his thoughts dark and churning. This is just the straw that broke him, for he knows that since his fame began two years ago, he has fallen so very far. He has been self-centered and vain. He has fornicated and broken hearts and caused pain to those he claimed to love, all in the name of this new life of his. And he’s pushed his friends to do the same. His stupid, selfish actions have had a ripple effect that has completely ruined lives.

Not only had he driven June away and into the arms of another man, he’d played with your life and Jack’s as well. If he hadn’t pushed Jack to cheat, you would never have needed those pills in the first place. You almost died because he didn’t want to be alone in his debauchery, and he knows that some sick part of him pushed Jack to it because he wanted to sabotage your relationship.

Then he realizes that, on top of all that, he did another incredibly selfish and stupid thing. He came inside you, which means that you could be pregnant. And that would ruin you completely, and you wouldn’t even know why, you wouldn’t understand. He would do the right thing, of course, and maybe, someday, you would learn to forgive him, but it would ruin you all in the process.

Oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus.

He thinks he might vomit again.

When the Reverend emerges, he looks surprised to find Elvis sitting there.

“Pastor, I am the most miserable man you’ve ever seen. I am doing the things you taught me not to, and I’m not doing the things you said I should,” he sobs, “Please, please pray for me.”

“Oh, son…come in,” Reverend Hamill says.

Deflated, consumed, and heavy with his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, he follows the pastor into his office. He can’t bring himself to admit what he’s done, to admit how horrible he is. He just cannot get the words out. Instead, he weeps and prays, over and over, the Reverend praying with him.

All he can whimper out is, “Please, please forgive me for my sins. Please.” He’s not sure if he’s asking the minister or God or both. He only knows he cannot live with himself for hurting you, even if you don’t know it.

After over an hour of this, by the grace of God, he finally calms some. His entire body and soul aches.

But he knows what he has to do now. He understands the deal he has made.

It doesn’t matter what he wants or needs. You being okay is all that matters. He has to make sure you’re taken care of. He has to make sure that you are happy.

In the days and weeks and months that follow, Elvis pretends he is having the time of his life, becoming every bit the budding superstar that the country insists that he is now. Sometimes, he even believes it; sometimes, he even forgets. Though every time he sees you, his heart breaks a little more, his love for you permeating him to the core.

But he knows he can’t have you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

Instead, he plants seeds in Jack’s ear. “You love her, don’t ya, Jacky Boy? When are ya gonna make an honest woman of her?” He pushes Jack to fully commit to you. He even goes with Jack to buy the ring, though he stops himself from paying for it. Jack has his pride, after all.

Instead, he throws himself into work, grateful for the grueling cycle of touring and recording and appearances and acting. He throws himself into fixing up Graceland for his family, building a life of extravagance that he never could’ve dreamed of.

And, God help him, he starts seeing other girls. He leans into the image of the playboy they all want him to be. He dates and he fucks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of these girls will make him forget the perfect way you fit into him, forget the way your face looked when you came undone around him. That maybe one of them will come close to the wonder that is you. That they will help him forget his past sins by cutting new ones. He cannot seem to help but do the sinful things he swore he wouldn’t do, lest he drown in his sorrows, but the girls help keep him from the one thing that is off limits: You.

When Jack finally pops the question in the summer, and you accept immediately, he can barely keep himself together. He convinces himself this is the right thing, that he is happy for the both of you as he stares into the night sky knowing deep in his soul that it should be him. He reminds himself that this is the deal, this is what he wanted, to see you happy and taken care of.

And he will damn himself for your salvation every time.

December 28th, 1957, Graceland

Oh, God, what have I done?

The moment you appear down the aisle, looking ever the most beautiful, blushing bride, every part of him aches with love for you. He’d thought that by giving you the life you dreamed of, the life you needed, that it would be enough to let you go. But as Elvis stands by Jack’s side at the altar, he realizes that no matter what has happened, no matter what he has done, he is always going to love you and it’s never not going to hurt, especially not after this.

Not after the quick look you shoot him as you step up to meet Jack, your pretty, wide eyes full of excitement and emotion. Not after seeing you all in white and wishing to God that it was him marrying you right now. Not after he keeps his peace after the minister asks if there’s a reason these two should not be married.

He somehow manages to keep himself from openly weeping during the ceremony by biting the inside of his cheek repeatedly but still finds himself caught in your radiance more than once and must force himself to look away. During the wedding pictures, he cannot help but maneuver himself close to you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, to be memorialized for all time on film. The press of his soft lips into your warm cheek sends that tell-tale shiver through him, one that drives in the fact that he still loves you. He gives himself this tiny thing, and no one questions it because they all know you are close friends, and a congratulatory cheek kiss on your wedding day is not strange.

Discretely, he makes sure to let the photographer know he wants copies of the pictures, with the excuse that he is paying for them and wants to make sure they are perfect. This, too, is not questioned, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

To torture himself even more, he offers Graceland up for the reception. These are his two best friends, after all, now cleaved together in holy matrimony for the rest of their lives. No expense should be spared because they deserve all the happiness in the world.

And they do, he reminds himself throughout the day. They do deserve all the happiness in the world.

At least if you are with Jack, he thinks, he still has you in his life. He can still see those beautiful, wide eyes whenever he wants without question or suspicion.

He clings to this.

Even so, he feels as though he is being sucked into a riptide. It seems fated that his life is going in a much different direction than the newlyweds. The draft notice he received a week ago confirms this, weighing heavy on his heart and feeing like a nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.

God is testing him, he thinks. It is all a very clear and stark reminder that where he goes, you cannot follow. He cannot help but feel that God is punishing him for his sins by taking him away from the fame he has just settled into to, taking him from the people he loves and the things he loves to do. He wants to lament that it isn’t fair, but part of him knows that he deserves this, too, for what he’s done and for what he’s done to you.

And perhaps God works in mysterious ways, as while he is loathe to leave his parents and his career and his fans, he cannot help the small part of him that is relieved he doesn’t have to watch you and Jack in your newlywedded bliss for the next two years. It’s the only upshot to this entire disaster.

But he won’t let his sorrow overshadow your big day. With a smile plastered on his face, he gives a charming and loving speech of how wonderful it is to see his two best friends find such happiness with each other. He only stutters once or twice, which comes across as endearing rather than damning. But the thing is, even though he is miserable, he is still happy for you two. He wants more than anything for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and if that is with Jack, then so be it.

The only time he truly falters is during the dance.

Your little sister (who at 18 is not so little anymore), Rosie, as the Maid of Honor, dances with Jack, while he, the Best Man, dances with you. The moment he touches you, sparks fly through him and down his spine, and he cannot help but pull you in a little too close, even though everyone is looking. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and the other clings to your waist.

The thing is, you do not react to this at all, not outwardly, anyway. You let him hold you and press his cheek against your temple. You let him breathe in your scent and lean into you, as if memorizing everything about you. You let his hands contract, pulling you in closer. You let him lead because it’s like somehow you know, in your soul, that he needs this, even if you’re not exactly sure why.

And for that he is grateful. He is grateful as he takes in every bit of you, committing you to memory, knowing that soon that is all he will have of you. All you will be is a memory, imprinted on his heart, for the rest of time.

When the song comes to an end, he leans back slowly, his eyes searching your face for any recognition, any understanding of his plight, any feelings of your own that might linger in your subconscious. You stare back at him openly for a moment, and for a second he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes, but then Jack is pulling you away and the moment is gone.

As the party continues into the night, he feels like he is suffocating and escapes upstairs to his room. And as people know not to enter his bedroom without express permission, he feels safe to let out the shaking sob he’s been holding back for hours.

He’s not sure how long he cries before a tap at the door startles him into motion, frantically wiping at his face.

“Bewbie, sweet boy, can I come in? It’s just me,” his mama’s voice echoes through the door.

“Yeah, Mama, come in,” he croaks out, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. While he is relieved that it’s her and not one of the guys, or God forbid, you, he still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the state he’s in.

His mama comes in quietly, shutting the door quickly behind her. She looks him over and in one fell swoop seems to understand, even though he’s said nothing, even though he’s spent months perfecting his nonchalantness for the world, what is going on.

But a mother knows.

His mama sits next to him on the edge of the bed, putting her arm comfortingly around his broad shoulders. “Oh, my wittle baby, it’s her, isn’t it? Our beautiful y/n. You love her,” she says, less of a question and more stating a fact.

That does him in, the way his secret is exposed so easily by his mama. It terrifies him that she knows him so well, and terrifies him that if she knows this, what else does she know? There’s no point in denying anything, so he curls into her like a child and lets go of it all, the tears streaming once again down his cheeks as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

His mama has always loved you, taking quickly to your genial ways and how you always made time to spend with her. Maybe she suspected something from the start, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t judge or scold him now.

“H-hurts so bad, Satnin,” he hiccups out. And it does, now that he’s letting it. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

“I know, baby, I know,” she coos, rubbing his back. He can sense all the questions she wants to ask but doesn’t.

“I-I-I couldn’t…I-I ain’t w-w-what she needs or wants, Mama,” he stutters out. It’s as close as he’s willing to get to telling her the truth.

“It takes a brave man to let the girl he loves marry another, when he knows that’s what she wants, though I can’t say I wish it didn’t work out the other way,” his mama tuts.

“Y-you knew?”

“Course I knew, Bewbie. A mother always knows. To be fair, I been watchin’ the way ya look at that girl for the past few years and it didn’t take much t’put it all together, baby,” she says. “But the question is, does she know?”

He stills and stays silent for a moment, before answering truthfully, “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” she tuts, “I’m gonna trust you had good reason for lettin’ that wonderful girl go without tellin’ her how ya feel?”

His heart constricts, causing him to doubt his choices, but he can’t explain how he nearly killed you with his terrible decisions. He certainly can’t tell his mama that he made love to you when you weren’t yourself, no matter that it was you came on to him. And he knows his mama would balk if he told her how much he doesn’t deserve your love because of his sins.

“It’s better this way, Mama,” he says quietly, sitting up and staring at his hands. “And she’s happy, both she and Jack.”

His mama nods, resigned. “Alright, my sweet baby, puttin’ your friends’ happiness before your own…I know ya made the choice ya thought was best,” she says, wiping his face and pinching his cheeks, “but ya get yourself cleaned up now ‘n go be at least a ‘lil happy for your friends, okay?” She leaves the obvious unsaid—that he’s leaving to film in a few days and straight from there, it’ll be into the Army, so this will be one of the last times he can spend with them.

He nods. “O-okay, Satnin.”

And with that, he does as he’s told.

*

And then, in a blink of an eye, she’s gone. His mama is gone and his world fully collapses and it’s all his fault.

You are the only one who saves him from being completely swallowed in the blackness of his despair, and he’s not in his right mind to think or care how that looks. All he knows is you’re there when he needs you the most. You’re there to get him through the absolute worst of it before they send him a world away, and then, he loses you, too.

He loses everything that means anything to him—his mama, you, his career—and he wonders how long God will continue to punish him for his misdeeds, until he can’t bring himself to care much anymore about anything at all.

Germany feels like a cold fog that clouds his brain, even when he brings his Daddy and Dodger and Red over to live with him off base. In his haze, he writes Anita promises he wishes he could keep but deep down knows he won’t. Then, he turns around and does all the things he shouldn’t do because he can and what does it even matter if it’s all lost anyway? He takes the pills they give him to keep him awake in the field, and those make him feel pretty good, for a time anyway, and then he starts taking other pills they give him to bring him down after. In his off time, he screws and tries to forget the life he used to know.

And in those horrible quiet hours when he lies awake, trying to sleep when even the pills won’t let him, trying to escape and can’t, he thinks of you. He thinks of his love for you and your hold over him even now, a world away, and when he’s extra lonely, he imagines you on top of him, writhing and beautiful. And when he comes undone, there’s nothing left but a gaping hole in his heart and a mess in his hand.

*

March 1960

Elvis bites his nails to the quick on the long journey home. It’s not just because of the planes and the exhaustion and not knowing if he’ll ever get back to being “Elvis Presley,” but he knows he’ll be seeing you in a matter of hours. Not years or months or weeks, but hours.

And he thinks that maybe he is finally over you, that maybe he’s healed enough from everything and that he’s on his way to start something new, something fresh.

But, God, somehow you are more beautiful now than before, but you act so strange around him, and his heart wants to leap and implode all at once. Somehow everything has changed…but you, you still own his heart.

Once he discovers your pregnancy, he is over the moon for you because he can sense how badly you want this. He doesn’t care that the baby is Jack’s—he loves it more than anything because he loves you and seeing you so happy brings him true joy for the first time in a long, long time.

His career is taking off again, his new image impressing those who denounced him a few years ago, and he already has appearances and recordings and films lined up to go. Life feels…almost good, like maybe he’s finally paid his karmic debt.

Then you almost bleed to death in his arms.

His terrified confession of love is spoken in an act of desperation, a singular hope that if you know he loves you, you won’t be able to go, that the string of fate that draws you both together cannot be broken, that he can somehow will you back to life with the power of his love.

He begs God, begs as he’s never begged before, an inner wail of blood-soaked prayer that does not cease as he rides with your near-lifeless form to the hospital, nor when he calls Jack and your parents, nor as paces the waiting room.

Singularly focused on his pleas to God, he doesn’t even realize he’s covered in your blood until Charlie and Jerry arrive shortly after the ambulance and look at him in shock.

“Jesus, EP,” Charlie gasps quietly, taking in the macabre scene, “We need to get you changed and cleaned up before Jack gets here.”

That’s when he looks down and sees your life’s blood staining his pants, his shirt, his arms, his hands. God, it’s even under my nails, he thinks as he watches his hands shake, feeling utterly disconnected from his body.

He’s frozen, unable to move, repeating his prayers again and again, until Charlie whisks him away and has to physically help him strip down and wash the blood from his body in the bathroom. As he watches the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, he cannot bear the thought that maybe it’s the last thing he has of you, these stains, and that maybe he’s truly lost you.

He just got you back. He can’t lose you. He won’t.

No, his inner mantra of prayer doesn’t cease until he is absolutely sure you are going to be okay.

Though “okay” is relative, he learns quickly. You have a long recovery ahead of you, the surgeons say, wiping their sweating brows, and the next few days will be crucial. The baby is gone, and the doctors say that more tests need to be done once you are well to see if that is even an option in the future.

He is heartbroken for you, and for Jack. But you are alive. You are alive.

Lamar and Red have to physically drag him from the hospital in the morning to get him ready and put him on the train to Florida for Frank Sinatra’s special, which is the very last thing he wants to do. But it is absolutely pivotal in his career comeback, so he tells Rosie in no uncertain terms that she is to keep him posted about her sister and any developments.

As he showers and packs, exhaustion seeping into his bones, it suddenly hits him that he told you he loved you, and it’s likely there will be fallout from that. It makes him incredibly worried, and he is even more loathe to leave until he knows where he stands with you. It’s possible you won’t even want to see him again.

Or it’s possible she loves you, too, a little voice hopes. But he knows better than to feed that monster. You don’t love him, not like that, and it’s selfish of him to even consider at a time like this.

“It’ll take your mind off things, EP,” Jerry tries to convince him, seeing his trepidation, prodding him along to get on the train. “And it’ll give y/n and Jack and her family time to get situated.”

The message is clear. Elvis is not in the inner circle of your life, not anymore, not as he wants to be. This fact is both sobering and cutting at the same time. It reminds him yet again that where he goes, you cannot follow, and where you go, he is not always welcome or needed.

He nods solemnly, thinking he finally understands, yet again, the terms of his deal with God. You live and he keeps his distance, he keeps his sins from tainting you. You live and he lets you go.

He pops a couple of pills, brought over from Germany, to wake him up, to get him in the performing mindset, to rev him up to being THE Elvis Presley. “Anything she needs, anything at all, comes to me,” he tells Jerry, “Hospital bills, recovery costs…and I want the best doctors helping her figure out her pregnancy issues. Oh, and send flowers, every day.”

Jerry nods, eyes observant and keen. “Of course, EP. Anything for y/n and Jack.”

Yes, anything for you.

*

You don’t remember a thing from that night, he learns from Rosie, and most of him thinks it’s for the best. But a small, egotistical part of him thinks bitterly that you certainly have a knack for forgetting anything monumental that happens between the two of you.

But he is busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely has time to think of you at all after that.

Except half the songs he chooses for his comeback album have something to do with you, which he only consciously realizes when he steps up to the mic to sing. And just as he thought of you the night of the talent show, he thinks of you now, singing about the girl of his best friend and how it feels so right being with you. He pours his hopes and dreams and frustrations and sorrows right into that album.

Perhaps it will cleanse him of needing you. Perhaps it’ll help him let you go.

When you find out that children are likely not in the cards for you and Jack, he sends more flowers, every day for a week. Jack is devastated and practically begs to come out to Hollywood to escape the sadness, so he agrees.

Anything for his friend, right?

He takes care of you from afar. He takes care of everything. Anything you could possibly want or need is yours. But he keeps his distance.

That is the bargain.

He falters at Christmas, almost letting his grief and yours ruin everything. He swears that you feel something for him, that maybe your impulse to be with him was not entirely driven by the drugs all those years ago. That maybe you do somehow remember his confession. Part of him swears if he had let it happen, you would’ve been his once again.

But you are not his, you never really were.

And while he knows this on a logical level, the more he is away, the more he fills his days with mindless movie making and wooing his costars and taking pills that bring him up and more that pull him down, the more he lets himself imagine you are his. From a distance, he can take care of you. From a distance and in the deep recesses of his mind, you belong to him and him alone.

“Elvis Presley” becomes a household name, now with a clean-cut image, alluring to both housewives and teenagers alike. His fame and wealth grow, and so does his isolation and loneliness. So does the need for the pills and to bring the rest of the guys into it all with him. Even Jack.

Especially Jack.

But he doesn’t like to think about why that is.

He manages to destroy his relationship with Anita along the way. He loved her, in his way, he really did. But she was not you. Neither is Ann, though he thinks for a moment that she may be the answer to his prayers, but in the end, he screws that up, too.

As the years drag on, he thinks he finally understands why he sabotages every relationship he’s ever had—it’s you—none of them are YOU. So he flits from fling to fling without ever truly landing because all he really wants is your love. But he doesn’t deserve it, he never has.

He knows this as he watches Jack descend into alcohol and drugs and women, and a small, horrible part of him wants Jack to self-destruct, and even though he knows this hurts you, he is too selfish to stop it. And the guilt of this, coupled with the downturn in his career, pushes him to self-destruct, too.

Still, he keeps his distance. When he’s home, he tries not to shoot you too many lingering glances. He reins himself in, most of the time, but in moments of weakness, he allows himself to get too close. He catches you alone, he makes a pass. But because you are you, you always rebuke him with a laugh. Silly Elvis, ever the jokester.

But sometimes, in the dark of night, in your beautiful, wide eyes, he sees something else. That deeper connection that drew you together in the first place, mixed with a heat he has only seen once or twice. And it is that which keeps his hope alive.

In an attempt to bury it and fill the hole in his heart, he almost marries, but in the end, he can’t go through with it. He’s wildly unhappy and dissatisfied, and it’s not until he finally gains some control over his career again that things take a turn for the better. He finally starts to clean up his act. He seeks knowledge and spiritual clarity. He finally finds his passion for music and performing again after nearly a decade.

But it’s too late for Jack. He managed to drag Jack to hell and while he made it back, Jack has not. And you are miserable because of it. This breaks his heart.

He tried to give you everything you wanted and needed by stepping back to let Jack do so. He kept his distance. He did what he’d promised God, and yet life still destroyed your dreams.

Jack no longer makes you happy. Jack is no longer the man who can give you what you need.

And suddenly Elvis wonders if he was wrong all along. That perhaps he wasn’t the man you needed then, but he is now. Perhaps his sins have been forgiven. Perhaps the more he pushes you away, the worse things become for both of you because you are indeed supposed to be together.

You are his. You’ve always been his.

So, riding high from his first Vegas performance, he finally allows himself to pursue you. He pushes away a decade and a half of guilt and shame and lets his charm and confidence entice you. He lets the sparks fly between you, finally free after all this time, and more intense than ever. To his gleeful surprise, you accept him willingly, if not a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it is just sex, he thinks at first, this carnal need he has for you, but he knows better. As soon as he tastes you after all these years, he knows he can never let you go again. As soon as he coaxes, then watches you come undone again and again, he realizes that still, after all this time, this is it for him. You are it. You always have been. And he will do anything to keep you, to make sure you know that you are his.

He thinks you might remember it all after that first night, but you don’t, not right away. He senses your fear to let go, to let yourself have him, to have this affair. He knows you want this to be only sex. And maybe it is for you, at first.

But he will have you. He doesn’t care how many mountains he must move or what he has to do to convince you to stay, but he loves you more than anything in the world and he’s not willing to part with you, not anymore.

It’s true that his fame, wealth, and influence have spoiled him into always getting what he desires. Of course, what he truly desires always has been you. Now unlocked, his love and want and need for you is insatiable, and he will do anything to keep it that way.

Anything for you. Anything but letting you go.

*

As the blackout of his rage starts to dissipate and he comes to, he assumes that his friends are holding him back from quite literally killing the disheveled and beaten man who used to be his best friend, and he watches with deep satisfaction as you slap the shit out of your husband.

He also feels the immense guilt of letting it get this far, of not knowing just how bad Jack was to you, and his part in all of it.

But when you vomit and promptly fall to an unconscious heap on the ground, his fear is what overshadows his rage and guilt. Something is wrong, he knows it.

Not again, not again, not again.

Triggered by your history, Elvis, with untold strength, wrenches himself from the four men holding him down and clamors to your side, everyone else forgotten.

Pulling your limp body into his lap, he screams for someone to call the doctor. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might need one, too.

Please God, please God, please God. Not now, not after all we’ve been through.

That deep-seeded, old shame creeps back in as he rocks you: This is your fault. Your selfishness did this. You destroyed Jack, he took it out on her, and you’ve put her at risk, yet again. You are a scourge on this woman you claim to love so much. A pestilence.

He’s getting lost in this fearful despair, and then Jerry’s voice in his ear snaps him back: “EP. EP! You have to let her go, man. The doctor is here.” Jerry pulls his arms off her as the doctor examines her.

Elvis’ fingers go straight to his mouth, his obsessive habit of biting his nails taking over as he watches the doctor carefully.

The doctor looks up, taking in the scene. He looks at Elvis, then at Jack bleeding against the wall, and purses his lips. “Will somebody tell me what happened to this young lady?”

“There was an incident…” Jerry begins diplomatically.

“Her husband slammed his fist into her face!” Sandy yells over him, furious, earning scathing looks from the entourage. They knew better than to give details, knowing to keep things close to the chest and avoid any legal issues, to protect him at all costs.

“Sandy!” Jerry admonishes her.

“No, it’s okay, Jer,” Elvis says firmly, waving him off. “I’m sure the doctor knows to be discreet.”

The doctor looks up at his hovering, intimidating form, and says nothing for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to get her to a hospital and stabilized as soon as possible. She needs x-rays. It’s likely she has a serious concussion, Mr. Presley.”

The men start to argue, knowing that as soon as she leaves this room, a whole host of problems could fall down on them, but that’s the last thing he cares about right now. All that matters is you.

Elvis holds up his hand and everyone goes silent. “Do what you need to do, Doc. Anything she needs.”

The doctor nods and asks that someone phone for an ambulance.

Elvis looks up and sees that the men cleared the room at some point, leaving only the major players. Jack still sits, leaning on the wall next to Red, his face battered and bloody, watching the doctor. Elvis can’t tell if Jack is sorry or not. Elvis walks towards Jack, his anger tempered only by his concern for you.

“EP!” Jerry says in a warning tone, signaling for the men to flank him.

“I’m fine,” he commands, crouching at Jack’s side.

Jack flinches.

“Are you proud of yourself, Jacky Boy? Are you satisfied, seeing her laid out on the ground like that? Is this what you wanted?” he hisses.

Jack says nothing. He sees the tears in Jack’s eyes, the regret through the pain, and for a second, Elvis almost sees the man he used to know in there.

“Hmm,” he tuts, looking over his friend with disgust, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with you later. And you, too,” he says, with a low, deadly calm, pointedly to Red. Then he rises easily from the floor, his attention on the men with the stretcher who just entered the suite.

“It’s never enough with you, EP, you selfish motherfucker. The man who gets everything he wants, no matter how many lives he has to destroy to get it. The rules never apply to you, do they? Dammit, you coulda had anyone, anyone! Why did it have to be y/n?” Jack spits out mournfully from behind him.

Shame snakes through him, through the anger that continues to boil under just the surface, covering the sorrow that flows under that. There is truth in Jack’s words, he knows that, even though he wants to deny it.

“How long, Elvis?”

He supposes he owes Jack that much, though he doesn’t even turn his head.

“Opening night.”

“No, you bastard. How long have you been in love with my wife?”

The room goes silent yet again.

Elvis turns around, but he cannot bring himself to look Jack in the eyes for a moment. A lifetime of memories flashes through his head, of times much better than this, of times when they had each other’s backs. Ultimately, he knows what Jack has become is partially his fault. Ultimately, he knows it was wrong of him to want you when you weren’t his, wrong to have sex with you, even before the debacle of you and the pills. It was wrong of him to manipulate Jack into marrying you.

As much as he hates Jack right now, he once loved him, and still, he betrayed him.

Jack chuckles darkly, “That fucking long, huh?”

Elvis finally looks Jack in the eyes but says nothing. Nothing he can say will make any of this less of a fiasco. Nothing he can say with make it right, no matter how much he wants to jump in to defend himself, to tell Jack he saw you first, to tell him he wanted you first, to fucking explain that you’re his goddamn soulmate and he’s had to watch you be with someone else for almost two fucking decades.

“Ahhh, and she didn’t even know, did she?” A hint of a smile plays on Jack’s bloodied lips. “Didn’t even give the King the time of day! Well, at least I got that goin’ for me,” he laughs.  

His brow furrows as he fumes, and he steps towards Jack again. Lamar puts himself between the two men.

“It’s fine, Lamar, let him at me. What do I have to lose now anyways?” Jack laughs, which turn suddenly to sobs, “You were my brother. I gave up my life for you! I loved you, man!”

The words cut Elvis to the bone, flooding his fury with more guilt.

“And I love her,” Jack sobs.

“You don’t fucking love her,” Elvis says, infuriated, pushing past Lamar to grab Jack’s chin, wrenching his head to look at you being put on the stretcher. “You hurt her. You been hurtin’ her. And Jack, if she dies, I don’t care what brotherly love was between you and me—I will fucking kill you,” he says, low and vehement in Jack’s ear, for only him to hear.

He pulls back to stare Jack in the eye, to let him know just how serious he is, to make sure he understands that through the pain and the alcohol and whatever pills he might be on.

Jack blinks through his tears and nods his head once, shakily.

Elvis releases him.

Then he steps in behind you, still unconscious, on the stretcher as they take you out of the penthouse and to the elevator.

“EP, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to…” Charlie starts, hustling behind him.

He turns, seeing the stares of the men who have given him their lives to stand by his side. Some of them are befuddled, some understanding and resigned, some even a little suspicious after tonight’s events.

“I don’t give two shits if it’s a good idea or not, I’m goin’ with her. Anyone wanna argue with me about it?” he says impatiently, shooting up an eyebrow.

No one does.

It’s good it’s the middle of the night, otherwise he would’ve caused a huge scene at the hospital. But the nurses and doctors seem to gather by his demeanor that now is not the time for autographs. Instead of putting them in the waiting room, they set up an empty room at the end of the hall for the lot of them, a gruff old nurse warning them they best be quiet and not wake any of the patients before she closes the door on them.

And for the third time in his life, he waits to know your fate.

He waits for you, just as he’s been waiting for you for the last 18 years.

He waits and he prays, though this time, he makes no bargains with God.

He stills when the doctor finally comes to tell him that, yes, you do have a concussion and though you will likely experience symptoms as you recover, you should recover fully. He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

When the doctor leads him and him alone back to your room, the doctor mentions the other symptoms you’ll likely experience and that you might have issues with your memory leading up to the event. Elvis cannot help but chuckle at that.

“Oh, I’m betting she will,” he says under his breath, though this time, he thinks it might be best after what you went through tonight.

He sits by your side in the quiet, dimmed room, and is taken aback by the angry bruising already spreading over your beautiful face. His fury at Jack swells through him once more, followed immediately by sadness. You look so innocent and fragile lying there. Suddenly, he feels afraid to touch you, as though you might break.

So, he waits. He waits for you to wake and he prays. He thinks of the lifetime he’s had without you and the life he wants with you going forward. And this time, he knows he won’t be leaving your side for anyone or anything.

But his secrets still lay heavy and dark on his heart. There are those things he cannot tell you of that day at Graceland so long ago, and the things he still cannot bring himself to admit to, like his confession of love as you almost died in his arms and his meddling in your life. He doesn’t want to tell you how all of it has led to you lying here in this hospital, hurt and fragile but somehow still his, he hopes.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, so for now he just waits for you to come back to him.

He’s been too rough with you, he thinks, in his quest to show you how you are his. Pushing you too hard to keep up with his rockstar lifestyle and his insatiable need for you sexually has not been good for you. You’re exhausted, not eating, and have been on an emotional rollercoaster for days, and he was too consumed by his own selfishness to listen, so much so that he almost drove you away. The hurt, the feeling of pure panic that shot through him when you said you were leaving was enough to bring him to his knees, but of course, he could not tell you that. He couldn’t show you that weakness. Instead, he’d covered it with anger and passion, fucking you into submission.

He realizes his dominance, while fun in the bedroom, is perhaps masking his true feelings. He has told you in so many words how desperate he is for you, how he wants you to be with him, to let him take care of you, how he is yours, that he needs you. But in truth, he is afraid. Afraid that you don’t and never will feel the same towards him as he does towards you. That it is only his coercion, manipulation, and his sexual prowess that keeps you here with him. No matter how much you say you are his and that you will stay as he fucks it out of you, he’s not convinced that you’ll feel the same in the light of day, of your own accord.

Lord, the way you said you needed him tonight flashed him right back to that first time with you at Graceland. The time you don’t remember. He is putty in your hands now, just as he was then. But that need of yours was only sexual. If it is truly just sex for you and you are only staying for that…well, that scares him and makes him want to hold onto you so tightly that you can’t leave even if you wanted to.

If you don’t ever feel that same pull inside your heart, in your soul, that he has for you, he’s not sure what he will do.

Gone is the bravado and confidence gleaned from years of being Elvis Presley. Instead, he sits here at your bedside feeling stripped to his core: a nervous, stuttering boy with a funny name who loves you more than life itself. He is that boy who picked your books up off the ground, the one who you calmed backstage with your sweetness and wit. For you and you alone, he is just Elvis. And he’s worried he won’t recover if you don’t ever grow to love him.

Anxiety courses through him, a throbbing pulse that serves to remind him that for all he has and is in this world, he is still only a man. And you are the girl who has comforted him through some of his worst moments, yet now after all this time he’s still terrified to let you truly see him. If he lets you in, you will see him for all that he is and all the terrible parts of himself he’s ashamed of: his selfishness and possessiveness, his overindulgence, his obsessive tendencies, his goddamned vanity and ego. His secrets. If you know the things he’s kept from you, he’s not sure you’ll ever forgive him. Certainly, you could not love him.

His heart aches at that thought, flooding him with despair. He needs you so badly that he cannot bear to risk showing you everything; however, a deep part of him wants to flay himself bare to you, to expose himself in a way that he has never done before, not with anyone.

Elvis puts his head on the bed near your hand. He is going to be gentler with you, especially after tonight. He will prove to you that he is worthy of your love, that this is so much more than just sex. He’s going to take care of you and give you the life you’ve always deserved.

God has humbled him once again tonight, and he knows he must do better.

He loves you so deeply he can hardly breathe.

So, he waits. He prays.

And he hopes that one day, you will love him, too.

*

Taglist:

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

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

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

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

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

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis 

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

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: “You’re my Christmas angel.” - “Wow that was…intense.” - “Just take the compliment.”

Pairing: Jamil Viper x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

TW: The characters are aged up, reader is not yuu/prefect

AN: I love, love, love Jamil, but istg this prompt had me tearing my hair from my scalp solely because my first draft for it got deleted (thank you tumblr for that absolute fuckery). Kinda unhappy with the ending, but it is what it is. Enjoy ^^

Jamil stood in silence, leaning against the doorway to the grand kitchens of the al-Asim estate.

There you were, waiting for water to boil on one of the stoves. You were still in your finery from the grand party that had gotten over only a few hours ago, yet clearly at home and full of energy in the humongous and currently empty kitchen. Moving to the rhythm of your own soft humming, you were completely unaware of his presence, with the faintest of smiles on your face.

Usually, Jamil would dread the month-long festivities the al-Asims would throw during the winter, but he found that he didn't mind them much anymore. Not when he could spend the months before planning every little aspect of it by your side. Seeing you dressed up in clothes of fine silk, a satisfied smile on your face as you made sure everything was going perfectly made it all bearable.

Ever since you had arrived at the al-Asim estate as a servant to Lady Nahiya, the woman selected to be Kalim's wife, you had never failed to surprise him. At first, having learned of your background, he had believed you would try to meddle in his affairs on account of essentially being the right hand of the lady he now had to serve as well. But you did not.

As servants and to some extent, retainers of the family heads, you and Jamil had to work together often. While he was courteous to you, he was also a bit distant at first, preferring to keep things professional between the two of you as much as he could. But you were persistent in your approach, gradually making him warm up to and trust you with your careful and diligent work. The two of you grew closer, close enough for Jamil to share a few of his worries and burdens with you.

A tentative friendship began to bloom, one cherished by both of you.

You recognized his capabilities, yet also knew when to take over certain situations. Your gentle way of caring, not only for the lady you served but also for every person you were acquainted with had earned you the admiration of many in the estate, himself included. Although his feelings were not merely of admiration.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice you finally noticing him. Your cheeks darkened with the embarrassment of being found out, yet you forced out a chuckle, "Jamil, isn't it a bit too late to be up and about?"

Jamil's eyes widened at having been found staring, but he quickly composed himself, giving you a soft smile. "I could say the same about you," he hummed, walking closer to you. You shrugged, turning your attention back to the kettle on the stove. "I couldn't sleep."

"Hm?" Jamil raised his eyebrows.

"So, I decided to make myself some tea," You smiled at him, gesturing to him to take a seat on one of the stools nearby. "Do you want some as well?"

"I wouldn't mind some," he said, leaning against the counter to get a better look at you. The next few minutes were spent talking to each other about everything that had happened that night during the party, and everything that was still left to do.

Once the tea was ready, you handed his teacup to him. Sitting next to him, you blew on your tea to cool it down a little. For a few minutes, there was only silence as you two sipped the hot beverage. Comfortable, companionable silence.

"You should go get some rest," Jamil spoke, placing his empty teacup on the countertop, his low and dulcet voice almost lulling you into saying yes. But you resisted the siren call of his voice, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What about you?"

"I'll clean up here," he smiled at your concern, "then look over the arrangements for tomorrow and then... we'll see."

You bristled at his words, narrowing your eyes at him. "What do you mean 'We'll see'? You won't get any sleep if you do all that. Do you know how many people have told me that they've seen you awake at ungodly hours, walking through the halls like a ghost?" You huffed, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. Jamil gave you an amused look, chuckling.

"I am just doing my job."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to do all of that, at least tonight. I already double-checked everything for tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow."

Jamil narrowed his eyes at you playfully. "Have you now?"

"I have."

A smirk played on his lips as he began quizzing you on everything that was supposed to be done and checked.

Gradually, that smirk dropped as surprise began filtering into his expression.

Jamil stood up from his seat, making you startle slightly. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you close, making your face darken due to your proximity.

"When... did you have time to check all that?" He asked, words slipping through in an awed whisper.

You looked away, feeling a bit bashful. "I told you, I couldn't sleep. So I decided to do something useful with my time, instead of trying and failing to fall asleep."

Charcoal grey eyes were focused on you intently, watching you as if studying a rare specimen. A shiver ran down your spine at being scrutinized so thoroughly, yet you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him.

"You... you are a godsend, (Name). You are an angel. A christmas angel."

The mixture of relief and gratitude you could make out in his voice had your cheeks warming even more. "Well... that's intense..." you mumbled, slapping a hand over your mouth as you realized you had let your thoughts slip through.

Jamil's laughter echoed through the empty kitchen as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His hands dropped from tightly gripping your shoulder to loosely holding onto your waist to support his laughing form. "Just... take the compliment, idiot."

Back to Masterlist...

[dairy-farmer]

Thoughts on Ra’s? Especially paring him with Tim

YES!! ra'stim is an exceptionally rare pairing and outside of batcest fics it's one of my favorite tim ships!!! i might even say that i like it a little bit better than kontim. my favorite timships center on him being shipped with other bats and outside of that the ship at the top of the ranking would be rastim. but rastim is also a very different dynamic for me because it falls into this weird zone along with like kontim or other nonbatcestships where i like reading it more than i like writing it. ra's in general is a very complex character with motivations that aren't always clear and i LOVE how he's a character whose morality is on a spectrum. in a no capes/civilian au he would absolutely be like....a shady lawyer for greenpeace. because he's "shady" but the shadiness has to do with protecting the environment.

a lot of rastim fics are more dark which makes sense given that he's a rogue/villain i imagine it's the same with fics about dickslade or jasonblackmask etc.

one of my all time favorite dark, psychological fics was a ra'stim fic. i've read a lot of dark fics but this one was unlike anything because it was just so wonderfully crafted. i tried looking for it to link but couldn't find it so i must not have bookmarked it :((. essentially in this fic (from what i can remember) (spoilers ahead) tim was presumed dead by his family but really ra's took him.

tim starts having odd dreams, weird stuff starts happening and eventually it is heavily implied that tim is the reincarnation of sora, ra's first wife, who (if i'm remembering right) ra's strangled because of the effect of the pit(?) and because she had been planning to/had betrayed him because the pit has made him different. and here ra's has never really... talked about sora. has never brought her up but he is still deeply enamored with her despite how they parted. and even though it's been lifetimes, he kept things about her. like a box with jewelry that belonged to her.

eventually its clear that ra's is growing more unstable and more attatched to tim who he starts a sexual relationship with that tim reciprocates to survive and also because of his mental state going back and forth and not really knowing what's happening. tim is remaining resistant to the growing evidence that he IS sora. he has her memories, he knows her name even though he doesn't believe in this. i think there's a line where he thinks about asking carter hall about reincarnation and the likelihood of that's what has happenedbut is still deeply in denial. tim finds out ra's has called all league members back to base and is planning on essentially shutting all operations of the league, going to ground and essentially it would mean tim would be locked inside with him forever. those called back includes talia who grows very disturbed and concerned with the "relationship" between tim and ra's. eventually tim begs talia to help him and she agrees but ends up getting caught. normally talia would not suffer greatly because she's ra's daughter but she's not sora's daughter (talia's mother was chosen solely because of her resemblance to sora) and now that ra's has "sora" back he's....not as kind. and he has also grown increasingly unhinged because he is now fully sure that sora has returned to him as much as tim may be denying and resisting.

so ra's, having grown more disconnected with reality (because sora has reincarnated in tim and they're together now) has talia's tongue cut out which is terrifying to tim. tim does end up escaping, he and talia seek refuge to gotham because even though he poisoned and stabbed ra's to escape he knows he'll come back. even though tim has entered a deep denial he still steals sora's jewlery box because he feels a connection and it ends with him and talia making their way to gotham while tim tries hard to compartmentalize because he's still very deep in denial and he's trying to figure out what he'll tell the other bats when they find out he's alive and ask about what happend.

my little retelling doesn't do justice to the SUSPENSE that charged that fic!!! it was INCREDIBLE i really wish i could find it again to share because even if you don't like ra'stim the plot was incredible!!!! and so good!!

[ninlilwinds]

Reader who is shy about Physical touch

Characters: Dating- Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Ayato, | Crush- Thoma, Childe

A/N: So I tried staying gn, but I may have included some she/hers so if you catch any, let me know and I'll fix it.

Genre: Mainly fluff

You and our boyfriend, Diluc, walked around MOnstadt city. It was one of the few days he was free from work, and you both enjoyed this time quite a bit. Usually, you’d walk around nature, avoiding all the hillichurl hotspots, and simply talk. But, today, you had both decided to walk around the city.

Diluc reached down and intertwined your fingers, causing you to tense. He raised an eyebrow and looked over to where your face was flushed bright pink. Diluc couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at how cute you were, “What’s the matter, my dearest?” 

You shook your head, swallowing hard before your voice came out squeaky, “Nothing.” 

You knew no one was particularly looking at you, but you felt as though all eyes were on you. Who was this commoner holding hands with MOnstadt’s most wanted (ex) bachelor? It was a bit embarrassing and it made you nervous.

Diluc soon caught on and slipped his hand away, keeping your pinkies intertwined, “Better?”

You blushed, not meeting his gaze, who searched you face for any further discomfort, “Yes.” 

He smiled and continued walking around, talking like normal as you prayed he wouldn't notice how much darker your blush had gotten.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date Kaeya. He was a flirt, a tease, and he was proud of it. He knew he could make anyone’s knees shake with a mere brush of his hand. 

Thus far, he had let you have your space, and never initiated anything. You hadn’t kissed, hugged, held hands. It pained him just a little bit, but you were the one person he didn’t want to make uncomfortable. 

You were in the privacy of your home. He had come over for a small little dinner date you had planned for him. He started catching on that you would never initiate, and with the romantic environment and how beautiful you looked, how could he not kiss you? 

The lighting was set lower to allow the candlelight to set a more romantic mood. The moon peaked in from your window, making your hair shine. Your cheeks were slightly flushed and your eyes were full of joy from your time with him. He resisted his urge, until after dinner. You were both sitting on your balcony, looking out into the mountains and the clear night sky. 

His arm came around your shoulders, which you tensed a bit on and shifted slightly. He noticed this and frowned a little, “(Y/n)?”

You opened your mouth to talk, but no words came out. Clearing your throat you tried again, “Y-yes?” 

“Do you not like when I touch you?” 

Uh oh. He had gotten the wrong idea. You cursed yourself for getting flustered so easily, “N-no! I love it I-I just…get a little shy…” you mumbled.

Kaeya smirked and glanced over at you. As if you weren't already cute enough, now you are shy too? He leaned down and pecked your lips in a chaste kiss, causing your face to explode in blush. 

He couldn't hold back his chuckle and he snuggled his face into your neck placing a sweet kiss and leaning his head on your shoulder.

You knew your dear bard was very touchy, especially when drunk. He noticed you were a bit shy on touch, so he didn't push you or anything, just gave you a hug here and there and maybe placed a kiss on your cheek as he walked by you. Small things that still caused you to blush, but did not cause you to have a brain error. 

But, that all changes when you come to pick up a drunk Venti from the tavern. He had had a particularly good day of singing and got paid quite a bit. The only tavern he would go to is Dilu’s since he was the only one who would sell the young looking god drinks. He had a little too much to drink as you stepped into the bar.

“Windblume!” He slurred a little walking over to you and crushing you with a hug. He reeked of alcohol. He buried his face into your neck, placing several kisses there and whispering, “You smell nice.” into your ear. Your face was already red, since he hugged you, but this was making your legs shake, as his loud voice drew the attention of several people in the bar. 

“L-lets go home Venti.” You dragged him out of the bar. As soon as you were outside, you let him lead you towards a bench. The night was calm, the only noise was the sound of the cheery drunks over at the bar. Venti laid his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes, “I wanna cuddle tonight.” he stated with a pout.

“You smell too bad.” You didn't meet his eyes, too embarrassed by all that’s happened.

He hugged your waist and pulled you closer whining, “Pleaseeeeee. I wanna be close to you!” his face was flushed from the alcohol and he put on puppy eyes.

You sighed and mumbled an ok as you urged him to get up so you can finally go home. 

He wasn’t one to use physical touch to express love, he preferred acts of service, gifts, and quality time. So it wasn’t something he noticed until much later in your relationship. You were both lounging around on one of his free days. YOu were on his bed, reading a book, snuggled under the blankets on a chillier day. Ayato was organizing his bookshelf when he looked over to where you were snuggled under the blankets. You looked adorable bundled into the blankets. He chuckled and took his shoes off, walking around and sitting next to you, leaning over to read along with you.

You were fully concentrated, so you didn’t notice him until he grabbed the book from you and held it in the center so you could both read better, “This book is quite interesting.” 

The hand holding the book rested on your thigh and your shoulders were touching. Your cheeks reddened and you scooched away, nodding with a quiet “yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow and then used his free hand to turn your face over to face him, “is everything alright, my love?’’ 

You nodded and he brushed hair from your face, “Let me know if you want me to give you space.” He went back to reading the book with you, although your head was mush by now.

You and Thoma had been living together for a while, roommates. He loved being your roommate and helping you with anything and everything. When you came home from work, you had a nice warm meal awaiting you with a smiling Thoma wearing a pink apron.

Your house was always clean thanks to him, and he would also help you when you were sick, like right now.

You were laying in bed with a fever when thoma came in with a bowl of soup and a tray of medicines. He sat down at the edge of your bed and helped you sit up. You coughed as you thanked him for the meal and medicines. 

He hated seeing you this sick. It pained him, wishing he could be sick for you. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against you, causing your cheeks to heat up even more as you chokes on the food, “Th-Thoma??” your eyes were wide.

He smiled, “Just seeing how your fever’s doing.” He parted from you and nodded, “Still there, but it’s better.” 

Lies, all he wanted was to be able to be close to you. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone but himself, but he had a huge crush on you. Your reactions were always adorable. Your face  would always flush a pretty shade of pink and your eyes widened which he enjoyed seeing. 

You thought the forehead thing was a hallucination for a long time, until Thoma brought it up one day…boy was that an awkward conversation for you (Thoma enjoyed it quite a bit).

This man has a crush on you. A huge one. Will he hide it? No. No he won’t. He won’t outright say it, but he’ll give enough hints. Everyone else around you had pretty much caught on, except for you. You just thought Childe was very friendly. 

You also had a crush on Childe, so every time he would hug you, grab your hand, pin you to the wall to “check your reaction time”, and such your brain would malfunction. One time, out in the busy streets of Liyue city, he grabbed your hand and kissed it as a greeting. You looked around to see if anyone was staring, cheeks red, “Ch-childe!!” You whisper screamed with a slight whimper at the embarrassment you felt. You fidgeted nervously as he smirked at your reaction, what a cutie.. 

“Yes, my dear (Y/n)?” 

“There’s p-people..” You hid your face with your hair and tried to calm down. 

“Let them see how much ily, then.” He hooks his arm over your shoulders, you were trying to get away or hide the whole time, you face growing redder and redder (Until Zhongli found you and saved you from any further physical touch)

[chantiepie]

GET THIS MAN | Prologue:

Warning: Sensitive content ahead. Mature language.

Genre: Comedy with a Dash of Dark Romance.

resumo : You know when you're stuck in that boring job and suddenly a new security chief appears and turns your world upside down? Well, that's what happens to Y/N. She's there, struggling through the daily grind, when Jeon Jungkook arrives and knocks her off her feet in a way she never imagined. I mean, who would've thought a security guard, a decade older, could be so intriguing? But then, out of nowhere, that one-sided flirtation starts to feel mutual, and the next thing you know, Y/N is falling more and more for him, even though she suspects there's something dark going on behind the scenes. Caught between ethical dilemmas and confusing feelings, she needs to figure out how far she's willing to go... Preferably straight to his bed.

﹍﹍﹍ 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 ﹍﹍﹍

The low sound of the radio on some random station accompanied Y/N during dinner preparation. Talking about burnout was already becoming a tough routine in her repertoire. Memories of the week at the office, busy days, the mistakes of newcomers, including hers, made it difficult to focus on just one thing, even on her day off.

Her mind wandered, questioning whether she should follow Queen Beyoncé's advice and quit her job, start a new life. However, now Y/N had a reason to feel motivated to go to work: the new, not-so-new, building security chief.

It was almost impossible for her to feel attracted to someone, being a romantic idealist. Reality always disappointed her for being analytical and detail-oriented when it came to getting involved with someone. Even when she met John, her first and last boyfriend, in the late teens, despite liking him and thinking about marriage and children, there was always the doubt whether she really loved him or if he was the only person she had gotten used to. She swallowed his clear flaws, like not liking to think long term, the disdainful treatment of his parents, and even the appearance she found a little less attractive. Y/N laughed aloud as she finished cutting the cucumber.

Among several reasons, she remained single from her twenties until her late twenties. Obviously, she had her flings here and there, but she never had enough disposition to maintain them. When the initial obsession ceased, she couldn't even pretend with any normalcy any interest in the person. Consequently, she faded away gradually.

She lamented recalling her attitudes, but did she feel guilty? That's another story.

She finished preparing the salad and devoured it without even noticing. She always tried to maintain good habits to compensate for smoking. Another flaw for her self-criticism list.

Without delay, she grabbed the pack of Marlboro watermelon flavor, undoubtedly the favorite from the list, lit it, and automatically drew in the nicotine, feeling relaxed. Compared to seven years ago, Y/N had indeed reduced, managing to keep the pack for almost a whole week. A victory.

She connected her playlist, turned off the lights, leaving only a light purple twilight, listening deeply to Lana Del Rey's voice flooding her desires.

It was incredible how every time she heard her inspiring diva, she automatically remembered the hot guy from her work.

Thinking of him again, all she knew about him were the rumors that circulated in the departments; obviously, Y/N wasn't the only one who noticed the well-favored.

She recalled a conversation she had a while ago.

"His name is Jeon Jungkook, he came from Korea very young and is thirty-eight years old," Jennie, her best friend, and who not by chance helped her get the job in the human resources department, made a point of telling her everything she knew. Clearly, not much. "You should try, he wouldn't resist a little nymph like you."

"Jungkook is an unattainable flirt, Jennie. Desire and observe from afar," even though she spoke in a joking tone, she lamented the reality quite a bit. She never even had the audacity to address him beyond a few greetings. "Nymph? Seriously?"

"Of course, just think with me. You, all cute, adorable, face like a puppy left behind in the move, no man can resist."

"Well, honestly, I wonder if you've always thought that."

Jennie laughed, winking at Y/N. "Always, my friend, always."

The noise of a notification took her out of her thoughts. Quickly looking at her phone, she soon realized who it was from.

"Where are you?" No greetings, straight to the point.

"In the same place as always, it's ten at night Jimin."

"I'm coming up." In less than 3 minutes, the door opened, revealing the man with platinum hair. They had known each other for a little over three years through mutual friends, which started with some not-so-discreet playful banter and soon turned into casual sex, sometimes some conversations.

"Who said I wanted your company tonight?" She typed quickly without looking at the door, even though she noticed the other's presence in the apartment, only to be answered almost in the same second in a loud and clear voice.

"Darling, you know you always want me."