#oh my friend laughed at me for going outside the lines but that’s intentional I wanted to add to the grimey aesthetic they have

[seagull-scribbles]

*Aggressively throws this at your head*

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Manx Norton: going over the limit

Contents: 18+ mdni, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, blowjob, deepthroating, throat fucking, swallowing, marks the end of their pre-relationship story

“We need to talk,” you say. 

Geto looks up from his journal, slow and steady like he knew you would come here and at this time. He sets his pen down. His hair is tied up completely today and there are dark bags under his eyes that you can’t bear to look at, so you don’t. Instead, you settle into the seat, without being asked, and you cross your legs and your arms. 

You mean business. 

“Good afternoon, pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

Sighing, you ignore that fluttering in your stomach. There’s no point in getting carried away by his charm; it’s his instinct to be sweet, otherwise he wouldn’t have as many clients as he does. But you’re aware, faintly and right at the very back of your mind, that his words have a bite to them — they’re complimentary whilst also accusatory. 

“I need an explanation, Geto,” you state firmly. 

His left eye twitches. It’s not a flicker or a nervous tick, it’s a flinch. You have the power, just like your sister said, when you were throwing her shoes out of the window, and she was offering advice as a means to fight your murderous intent off. It didn’t work.

There’s always something shifting between you, something unstable, and it’s been difficult to manage — you’re new to relationships, so new to venturing outside your comfort zone that you’ve relied so much on him to guide you. But you’ve also had to step up and make decisions for yourself. 

Your friends weren’t very helpful; they insisted you quit or bring a new man to the studio to make him jealous, and as tempting as it is to be petty, you know they wouldn’t solve anything. It’ll just make you feel bad and icky. 

So, you’ve chosen the high road, providing him the opportunity to share his side, to explain why he let you down once again and why everything between you had been built on a lie.

Nodding, he opens a drawer and takes out a familiar sheet of paper. Then, in a conversational tone, he asks, “What do you see?”

“It’s my CV,” you answer. Truthfully, you have no clue what game he’s playing; there’s something in particular he’s looking for but all you see is the whites of the paper and the lines of ink. 

“Look at it from the perspective of an employer looking to fill a hole in their establishment,” is his reply. 

You’ve heard that tone often, every day, in fact. It’s the tone he uses on clients when he needs to go over payment plans, or on suppliers when he needs to negotiate a new contract. But he’s never used it on you. Distant and devoid of attachment, it makes you feel uneasy. 

Fiddling with a loose thread on your sweater, you furrow your brows as you read over the paper. Geto is leaning back on the chair, hands folded on his lap, the pinnacle of confidence. That used to be so attractive. Now, you’re just a little peeved off. You were supposed to be the confident one; you came here on your own volition, even prepared a speech you practised with your sister.

You should have known he’d sweep the rug from under you. 

Frustrated, you groan and smack the sheet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see! I have no time for this.”

Smiling reassuringly, Geto doesn’t bat an eye at your outburst and instead, begins a lecture, “What I saw was a CV lacking in relevant work experience. In fact, you had very little experience. Your most recent job was in high school, when you worked as a librarian’s assistant for a day. The other things on there were debate club and a certificate for being a neighbourhood ‘sweetheart’, and I’m not even sure what that means.”

“Oh.”

To your embarrassment, he laughs. A blush is growing on your face and suddenly you’re very aware of how some strands of hair are sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, how the sweater you’re wearing is a little scratchy and that maybe, just maybe, you’ve overreacted terribly.

Maybe you should have confronted him sooner. Perhaps just as soon as you overheard him tell Miguel that your sister owes him a favour for hiring you. However, in your defence, you were feeling a little hurt from having been left at the restaurant — you waited for an hour, watching people pass by and give you sympathetic looks as you sent text after text to a man too busy with a client to realise time passed by. 

A week has gone by since then, and you haven’t come to work at all, you dodged every text and call from Geto and ignored him when he showed up on campus and had the nerve to get upset that you’re hanging out with a classmate. Your sister tried to defend him, and herself, but you weren’t willing to hear her out. On many occasions, you’ve told her to butt out, to leave you to make mistakes and get hurt, because it’s your prerogative. 

She can’t protect you from everything and the more she tries, the harder you all learn that lesson. 

“Okay, fine. So, my CV sucks a little,” you huff, “but you should have never hired me under the pretence that I was good enough when the real reason was because my sister asked you. It’s unfair on me. I wanted to earn this job on my own and you two went behind my back to manipulate this whole situation!”

The man sighs and leans forward. You smell his cologne and it’s muddling your mind a little, so you lean back, away from him. He notices. “I understand you’re upset. And I’m sorry to have colluded with your meddling sister. But it really isn’t what you think, pretty girl.”

You hate how patient he sounds, like you’re the crazy one. And maybe you are. You don’t know anymore. In fact, you’re starting to think you know nothing at all. 

“Yes, it’s true she asked me to give you a job. But all I promised her was that I’ll give you a chance, like everyone else. And when you came for the interview, I thought a lot of things. One was that you are so different from your sister. Different from the people that tend to come through the door, from me. You’re much brighter, much warmer and lighter than everyone I’ve ever seen.”

There’s something in his eyes, a sincerity that makes you breathless. All the air has left the room and you’re leaning in without even realising it. Everything that he says is entrancing, he’s a pied piper playing a tune that fills your soul with a fire you can’t put out, and he’s leading you closer to him, away from everything you’ve ever known, away from safety and reason. 

You’re not afraid. 

“I had a look at your CV and thought, there’s no way I would hire you, not even if she begged or blackmailed me — I take great pride in my studio, I turned it from a little backroom space with flickering lights to what it is now. My clients trust me to provide quality service from beginning to end, and I will not let a woman, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of that.”

Geto reaches for your cheek, like he can’t help himself, and you let him. His hands are slightly calloused but otherwise smooth and soft. And that smile, the polite one he always wears, is gone. In its place is something that reflects how you feel, how you’ve both been feeling for a long time now. A frustration against the distance between you, the boundary that’s erected itself between employer and employee, boss and receptionist, and a man who’s seen it all versus a girl who knows so little. 

You aren’t meant to be. Everything about this relationship is wrong, it’s inadvisable, foolish, like Hades and Persephone, or Eros and Psyche. It’s a tragic love story doomed from the very beginning, the kind people talk about centuries later with a mix sense of awe and pity. You know all about it, have read so many variations of the same story with the same individuals who think they know everything, who believe they’re different, special and that the Fates will smile fondly on them. 

Except neither you nor Suguru are under the impression that you’re different, that this will turn out differently and that the cards you’ve been dealt are from a separate, fresh deck. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game. 

Neither of you care. 

“But then I talked to you. And you were so witty, so undeterred by my unrelenting questions, and so willing to learn as you go. You had the confidence of someone who’s worked a thousand jobs, who’s met a thousand people that, despite knowing better, I wanted to hire you on the spot.”

Carefully, with your eyes fluttering shut at the tentative touch of your skin, you breathe out, “Suguru, we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

When your eyes open, you see his gorgeous, tortured eyes fall to your lips and you know what you want. 

Your lips meet his.

This kiss is so similar to the one you shared that night, but oh so new. It seems so long ago now, and when you feel his plush lips devour yours it feels like this is new to both of you and it urges you to push in further. His tongue touches yours and you don’t hesitate to intertwine it, to explore all that he’s laying out for you. 

Gasping for breath, you pull away with little success before he’s grasping the back of your neck and urging you over the desk, kneeing the papers there and hearing the pens and stapler fall to the floor with a dull clatter, you sit onto the desk and you hear his chair slam against the wall when he stands to press himself closer to you. He kisses you again. 

“Things work differently with me,” he says in between pecks to your lips. 

Whilst his mouth moves to your jaw, sucking at the skin by your ear, you giggle. “I know. My sister says you like control. Something about Christian Grey.”

Chuckling in your ear before nipping you there, he admits, “I’m not as insane as him. In truth, I don’t really know what I am, but I know it’s more intense than what most men ask for.”

“That’s okay, Suguru. We can work it out together, step by step.”

He kisses your pulse point. You moan. Goosebumps are rising along your arms; your back is arching to press as much of you closer to him. You’re barely capable of creating a single train of thought, you feel so lightheaded you don’t register how your legs are wrapping around his hips. 

“My smart girl,” Suguru muses against your skin. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hip, pulling him close until you can feel the bulge there push against your core. With a roll of your hips, the zipper of his jeans nudges your bundle of nerves. You gasp. And you seek out that pleasure again with slow, gradual grinds. 

Breathlessly, you say, “Suguru…”

He’s scraping his teeth against your pulse point, one hand kneading your thigh and the other holding himself up. Filling your senses, all you can think about is him and how there’s a growing pressure within that’s dying to be released. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Take what you need.” Tightening your legs around his hips, you grind harder, frustrated that there are layers between you. Your arch your back, chest rubbing against his. Like he knows what you want, his hand finds your breast, squeezing and groping. “No bra? Are you sure you came here to talk, angel?”

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, you cry out, body tightening as that coil inside snaps. You spasm, grinding hastily to draw out your pleasure. It’s much better than you any could have given yourself and you’re addicted. Hand flying to his hair, you thread it through, brushing out his hair tie until his silky hair cascades down.

He groans. 

In a blink of an eye, you’re being pulled and pushed down onto your knees. You grip his thighs, blinking fast as you desperately try to regain your bearings. 

“You’re asking for trouble, sweet thing. Can you handle it?” Suguru asks, a challenge glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. 

You bite your lip, thighs squeezing to subdue the regrowing aching there. With a sudden bravery, your hands make their way up, revelling in the marble like strength in his muscles before they find his zip. 

Hesitating, you feel something holding you back, an instinct within awakening. Awkwardly, you question, “May I?”

His smile widens, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then he’s threading his hands through your hair. It’s a rewarding pat, one full of warmth, and it’s empowering. 

“Such a good girl. You’re a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” He coos. “Of course you may, my pretty girl. Go on, go at your own pace.”

Nodding, you unzip his jeans, tugging it down with his boxers. And what springs out leaves your mouth watering. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s bad enough that he’s well-endowed, but nothing about him is typical. He’s different to the average man in every way. 

Starting with the metal piercing the underside of his dick, emerging through the head. 

Seeing the horrified look on your face, he chuckles, the hair soothing your head delving down to pinch your chin. Unperturbed by your reaction, likely expecting it, he explains, “I got it done a year ago, mostly as a dare. It took around nine weeks to heal and yes, it did hurt.”

“B-but I-I can’t,” you stammer and shake your head, adding, “there’s just n-no way.”

Suguru sighs, thumb grazing your cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand this is too much too soon, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re more than capable.”

You don’t want to disappoint him. And you want to prove you can do whatever you set your mind to. Recalling one of your sister’s drunken admissions, you know the trick is to pinch your thumb, so you don’t gag, to breathe through your nose and take a little at a time. 

“Okay, okay. I can do it.”

He gathers your hair and keeps them out of the way. Slowly, you wrap your hand around the base, gasping at the way your fingers barely touch. With no particular method in mind, you explore his length, thumb following a vein from bottom to top. He’s hot in your hand, almost burning, and the tip is shining with what you know to be pre-cum. 

It’s pearly white and you can’t wait to know what it tastes like; you lean in and scoop up the drop with your tongue. You both groan. 

Salty, you mull the taste over. It isn’t bad. And suddenly, you no longer feel scared. Your tongue fiddles with the bent metal barbell, surprisingly not minding the cold sensation against your hot tongue. 

“That’s it,” he groans, grip on your hair tightening. 

You widen your jaw, suckling the head, tongue pressing against the slit before it circles around, grinding the barbell back and forth. He groans louder, deep breaths vibrating through the room. 

When you push in further, you make the mistake of doing it too fast. You gag, eyes tearing up. 

“Slowly, pretty. Slowly. There’s no rush, okay?”

Coughing, you nod weakly, feeling embarrassed. Recovering your breath, you go back in, slower. Eventually, you work up a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him but never quite making it further than halfway. 

Both hands on your head, he soothes your tears away with his thumb before he advises, “Relax your throat, sweet thing. I’ll guide you, is that alright?”

You tap his thighs twice in a yes. 

And then he’s pushing in, more and more until he’s filling your throat, muscles stretching to take him in. Tearing up once more, you mentally swallow that panic rising, the claustrophobia within forcing your nails into his bare thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. So good -ngh- for me, hmm?”

Suguru pulls back, the piercing scraping your tongue. And then he pushes back in. Again and again, he builds up to a rhythm, allowing you to get used to it, before he gives you more of him. 

This is so overwhelming, the feeling of his piercing bumping at the back of your throat, the ache in your jaw at the stretch, and the salty taste filling your senses. All you can see and feel and hear and taste is Suguru. You can’t get enough of him. 

So, when he bottoms out, your lips tickling his skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head just as his do. 

“I’m going to cum, pretty. Do you want to pull out?” He asks, pleasure written all over his face, the veins in his arm bulging at his barely constrained urge to fuck your throat freely. Knowing that he’s so in control, so concerned over you, when he could use you how he pleased, could take what he wants makes you so wet. 

You blink rapidly. 

“No? Are you sure you -ha- can take it? I won’t let you spit it out,” he warns. 

Sucking your cheeks in, you suction him closer. His cock head is rubbing the back of your throat, piercing burning, and with a shallow thrust, he’s cumming down your throat. 

Hot liquid fills your mouth. 

Suguru pulls out and you swallow the thick cream he leaves in your mouth. Your head slumps against his thigh, gasping for breath, heaving like you’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. 

Hands tucking themselves under your arms, he lifts you onto his lap just as he sits back on his chair, boxers pulled up before you even realise what position you’re in now. 

He rubs your back, muttering encouraging words about how perfect you were, how amazing you did, and how he knew you’d do well for him. 

“Open,” he orders, bottom lip pulled down by his thumb. He inspects your mouth and smiles at what he sees. “Good girl.”

And then he’s kissing you, tasting both yours and his essence. 

“No wonder Miguel gave me a funny look when I asked how many piercings you have,” you whisper against his lips, a high pulsing through your veins. 

Suguru chuckles. “He’s a good guy, did all my piercings. Eased all my concerns every time and I knew I wanted him in my studio.”

You nod. 

Your eyes are heavy and you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and pondering the change between you. You’ve accepted that you’re entering an unconventional relationship, that he’s going to introduce you to a world none of your friends had seen a glimpse of, but you won’t be navigating it by yourself. 

He’ll lead you just as he had when you first started working here. 

Softly, gently and with so much patience, you’ll be free to stumble as often as you need until you know who you are, what you want, and what you need to be.

“Get some sleep, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Is the last thing you hear before you fall deeper into sleep in his arms.

[reidswhre]

notes 4 you ; spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: fluff! best friends in love

You were gathering your things from your desk while wondering what you were going to have for dinner. You hadn’t left any food prepared, and honestly, you didn’t feel like cooking, but nothing that a food delivery couldn’t fix.

“Hi.” Spencer smiled at you from in front.

“Hey, you.” You smiled back while slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Are you heading home?” He asked.

“Of course, I’m going home, where else would I go at this hour?” You teased him.

“Oh- I don’t know- I- well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe you could come to my place, I’m making pasta.”

“Your place? Oh God, sure! I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

You used to go to Spencer’s place often, and he to yours. You’d have dinner, watch a movie or two, and talk a lot. You spent all day together at work, but given the tragic cases you dealt with, seeing each other outside of work felt peaceful, a nice atmosphere that you both created.

You liked him a lot, and you were sure he liked you too. There were always moments when everything felt tense or you sensed something stronger than friendship between you, but neither of you ever acted on it.

“I missed it here,” you said as you entered Spencer’s apartment.

“Did you?” He asked as he watched you head straight to his bookshelf.

“Are you kidding? I love this place; it’s so cozy, so interesting, so lovely, so… you.”

“Do you love me?” He gave you a playful look as he set the groceries on the table for dinner.

“Of course, I do, silly.” You rolled your eyes and picked up the book on the coffee table. “This one’s new.”

“Yeah—actually, all those piled over there are new.” He pointed to a stack of about five books to your right.

“Oh, can I borrow this one when you're done?” you asked, grabbing one from the pile.

“You can take any of them, really.” He gave you that closed-lip smile.

“Wait, you’ve read all five already? You said they were new!”

“I read fast.”

“Of course you do.” You rolled your eyes again, smiling as you skimmed through the book.

“By the way! I finished reading that book you recommended, your favorite, remember?”

You felt a wave of happiness wash over you. “You’re kidding! I didn’t even know you bought it! How exciting! What did you think?”

“It was pretty good, though I think the dialogues in the book show some deficiencies in terms of plausibility and conversational dynamics. This homogeneity in the discourse negatively affects the characterization and pacing, creating a sense of stagnation in the dramatic development.”

You were left speechless, which made you laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” He furrowed his brows.

“You just severely criticized my favorite book!”

“I didn’t criticize it severely!” He defended himself. “I thought it was good! It has memorable lines, and it’s very romantic. I just think the dialogue could’ve been better, that’s all.”

“Sure, everyone’s entitled to their opinion, even if yours is wrong,” you teased.

“Hey!” Spencer feigned offense.

You laughed, and Spencer chuckled a little too.

“You can keep that one too.”

“No, no, don’t worry. I have that book in every edition that exists.” You laughed. “It’s my favorite for a reason.”

“Yeah, but—I thought you might want this one.” Spencer walked over to the bookshelf in front of you and pulled out the book from a drawer.

The book was filled with sticky notes. You glanced at it and saw it was covered with annotations everywhere.

“I—well—I made notes while reading because—I don’t know—I wanted to give it to you. I thought you’d like to see how I was doing as I read it.” He looked a bit nervous.

You looked at him and then back at the book. You were so surprised that no words came out of your mouth, which only made Spencer more anxious.

“No—you don’t have to keep it—It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to read it, I didn’t even ask if you wanted it, I’m really sorry!”

“You’re sorry?” You raised your eyebrows. “Sorry for giving me the best gift anyone’s ever given me?” You smiled broadly.

“What? You want it?” He sighed in relief.

“Are you kidding? This is incredible.” You threw your arms around him in a hug. “I love it! I can’t wait to see what you wrote.” You pulled away from the hug to skim through the book.

“No! Don’t do that!” He placed his hands over the book so you couldn’t read it. “Read it at home, okay?”

“Why!? I want to read it now.” You laughed and moved the book out of his reach.

“The thing is, I—you know—I wrote a lot…” He looked away.

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course, that was the idea, wasn’t it? I’m well aware,” you said teasingly.

“Sure! But… I didn’t just write what I thought about the book.” He looked at you. “I highlighted and underlined things that reminded me of you, and… I wrote you a few things. Just—read it later, okay?”

Suddenly, you felt a bit nervous, your stomach flipping. What did he mean by writing you a few things?

“Oh sure… yeah—sorry.” You closed the book and tucked it under your arm.

“It’s okay! Forget it.” He smiled sweetly. “Help me with the pasta, yeah?”

You smiled back. “What?” You pretended to be offended. “I came here to be treated like a princess, not to get my hands dirty!”

“Stop complaining!” He teased you, and you laughed.

You returned home around midnight, hung up your jacket, and left your keys on the table. Eagerly, you pulled the book out of your bag and sat down on the couch to take a look.

You saw some of his notes.

What’s this supposed to be? This guy’s an idiot. >:(

Oh, that was sweet! Extra points for him!

She’s funny, just like you.

you and me :) It was next to a paragraph describing a black cat and an orange one playing around.

I’m reading this on the plane, and you’re asleep i miss you :(

I seriously hate this guy, who raised him!?

You looked really cute today. You’re always cute.

There were countless more notes, all in his handwriting.

You had no intention of sleeping until you finished reading them all.

[hanniebaeee]

Neon Heat

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings : drinking, making out MDNI

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive

Summary: You are at the pub with your friends, and you're confused by the signs on the bathroom doors. But a sexy stranger helps you out, and then you go on to become more than strangers.

Ok, so this is a problem.

Your bladder is so close to bursting, the two beers you had with your friends demanding an immediate release. You don't understand how your friends have already started on the third one already. 

But now staring at the bathroom doors, you are trying to comprehend which is which. Obviously you've seen those signs before - in your biology textbooks.

But seeing it on bathroom doors? You're confused. And being tipsy isn't helping your situation either. 

One had a circle-and-line (♀️) symbol and the other had some kind of arrow sticking up (♂️).

Which was which?

Your brain tries to connect the dots through the haze of your tipsy buzz. Circle… arrow… wait, what? Who thought this was a good idea? You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as if staring harder would magically give you clarity.

“Need some help there, love?”

The voice startles you, deep and smooth with a hint of teasing. 

You turn to see the owner of the said voice. He's tall and leaning casually against the wall with his dark hair framing his face neatly. He was dressed in all black - looking way too classy and sexy to be standing here with you. 

His brown eyes sparkle like he knows exactly what kind of effect he is having on you. And even under the dim lighting of the rest area, you can see a dusting of freckles over his skin. And it made him look even more hot somehow. 

You blink, momentarily forgetting how to function as a human being.

“Uh - what?” you stammer, trying not to look as affected as you feel.

He grins and says, “The one with the arrow sticking up? That’s the men’s room. Think of it as a…you know...easier to remember.”

His eyebrows raise suggestively as he point upwards, and then he winks.

He winks.

You blush instantly, and you could feel the heat creeping down your neck.

“Oh. Right. Arrow. Up. Got it.” You nod like an idiot, still staring at him like he’d just descended from the heavens. “Thanks for that. Um.. I gotta-”

“Of course, glad to be of help,” He says, and you bolt into the right bathroom, internally screaming because that did not just happen!!

By the time you calm yourself (and your bladder) down and get back to your table, your friends immediately notice your flustered state.

“What happened?” Jennie asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Are you ok?” Jisoo adds, leaning in conspiratorially.

You take a sip of your drink, trying to play it cool as you tell them you're just tispy. Of course the playing cool part doesn't last long because Mr. Freckles was sitting at a table right across from yours, laughing with some other (hot) guys. 

You look away quickly, and try not to glance his way after that. Also failing, because the next time you do, he's already looking at you.

Oh yes, he is. 

The night rolls on, your friends chatting and laughing, but you are only half-listening now. Because his gaze is searing, heavy with intent, and you could feel it in your core.

He looks ethereal under the neon lights and honestly, it was starting to get to you now.

At one point, he leans back in his chair, stretching lazily, and tilts his head toward the exit.

The message was clear: Meet me outside. You watch as he stands up, and walks out, your eyes following him all the way to the exit. 

Your pulse skyrockets. Is this really happening?

This isn't something you do. You don't like casual relationships or hook ups. Hell, you didn't even know his name. But there was something about him that made you want to follow him out. 

Ok, so if this is how you die, then what a pity, because you are already on your feet. 

The girls look up at you, and Jisoo, the always the sharpest says, “If you're going home with him, I'm gonna be so mad.”

“Oh my God! I won't!” You hiss, cheeks heating up. 

“Don't have too much fun!!” Jennie sings as as you make a beeline for the exit. 

The cool night air hits your face as you step out into the dimly lit garden behind the pub. It is quiet except for the muffled bass of music thumping from inside. You barely have time to wonder where he is when you spot him. 

“Thought you might leave me hanging.”  

Bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, he looks gorgeous. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his posture relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but relaxed. It doesn't look like he is here to play around.

“I wasn’t sure if you were-” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended. “I don't do one night stands or hookups or whatever.”

“Oh, I wasn't looking for one.” He steps closer, his smile returning. “You’ve been driving me insane all night. So I wanted to know if it was just me, or if you felt it too.”

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you.  

“What exactly did you have in mind?” you asked, trying to sound confident (your body is betraying you in more ways than you can count right now).

“I would take you out first. You know, buy you some flowers, take you out to dinner. Talk. If you're interested, of course.”

“Oh.” Loss of vocabulary - you couldn't think of a sentence to say. 

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“In our case, I think we'll have to shuffle it up a bit…” He says, before his lips meet yours soft yet firm, and yes. You're gone. Completely. 

His hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up as he deepened the kiss. You can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his tongue teases yours. 

And he responds with a low hum that vibrates against your mouth. 

The kiss turns heated quickly, his hands sliding down to grip your waist and pull you flush against him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, earning a groan from him that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“God,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to be the death of me.”  

“You started it,” you tease, your voice breathless as you nipped at his bottom lip.  

He chuckles, but it quickly turns into a sharp intake of breath as you tug him closer. His hands slip down the curve of your hips, and he presses you gently against the brick wall of the pub. 

“What's your name, sweetheart?” he whispers, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that have your knees buckling. 

“Y/N,” you say, pulling him back up to your lips. “And yours?”

“Felix,”  

You lost track of time as the two of you melted into each other, the kisses getting more heated, and the feeling of his hands on your body getting more familiar.

Eventually you both pull back, panting and disheveled, and exchange soft smiles.

“So, about that dinner… does tomorrow sound good? I don't want to wait…” Felix asks, moving a strand of hair off your face.

You nod happily, and say, “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I'll pick you up at 7?” 

“Ok,”

“And come prepared? ‘Cos I'm taking you home,” He says, his teasing grin back on again. “Maybe teach you a little about the signs…”

“Oh my God, Felix!” You laugh, and he laughs with you. 

After exchanging numbers, and one kiss too many, you two walk back to your own tables where your respective friends tease you endlessly for this. 

Jennie and Jisoo are on you for the juicy details and you give in, dying of happiness and also embarrassment - because honestly, this isn't how you pictured finding love.

As the boys start getting ready to leave, Felix glances at you, and you smile. That seems to have snapped something in him because he comes over to press a quick kiss to your cheek (making the boys go feral with laughter), and your own friends watched in amusement as you both said your goodbyes. 

“See you tomorrow,” Felix whispers. 

“See you,” You say, and watch him leave. 

And you squeal in joy making Jennie and Jisoo laugh. Because this feels great. 

Like it's meant to be. 

Divider - @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[whenikissedthegiyuu]

nine - oh so he’s kiyoomi now

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

masterlist

dark mode - reader pov & light mode - sakusa pov

a/n - second half is written, it kind of got out of my hands… apologies in advance.

warning: suggestive content

“Why am I not surprised you’re late?”

Iwaizumi’s voice reached my ears, making me halt as I reached for the door. I glanced over my shoulder just as his hand landed on my lower back to gently push me away from the door so he could open it.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

I didn’t miss the roll of his eyes before I turned back around and headed into the restaurant, letting the host know a table was already waiting for us before I walked in the direction of our group’s usual table.

“I don’t get why you’re chastisin’ me when you’re just as late as me.” I added as I rounded the corner and found the rest of our friends sitting at the table hidden near the back. I squealed as I dropped my purse on the table and ran over to hug Akaashi. He stood up and hugged me tightly as I pressed my lips to his cheek. Next was Kenma, who was just sitting down finishing a text he had been writing when I came in as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

Kuroo stood up, pulling out the chair beside him. “Are you sure your boyfriend allows you to hang out with us?”

I slapped his arm playfully before wrapping my arms around him. He hugged me right back, slightly lifting me up.

“I already told ya we ain’t really dating.” I sat down once he let me go and pushed my chair in.

I had barely sat down before the waitress was waved over to the table and a round of drinks was ordered for Iwaizumi and I. Only half an hour had passed before Kuroo, always the bad influence, ordered shots as if we were out clubbing instead of a restaurant.

My phone vibrated on the table after I knocked back the drink. Kuroo glanced at it with a raised eyebrow, as if asking if I would answer. I grabbed it with the intention of texting whoever was calling that I’m busy, but Sakusa’s name on the screen made me pause. I hesitated for one more second before pressing the green button to accept his call.

“Are you home?” He asked before I could even say hello.

I grinned. I had no fucking idea why. I was getting more tipsy than I expected, that would explain the weird feeling in my stomach.

“No hi, hello, good evenin’, how are ya?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m in Tokyo.”

My eyes widened. Yeah, the way my heart was racing definitely was not due to the alcohol. Why was I acting like this if Atsumu had already told me?

“I can be home in 20.” I said, already reaching for my purse, but his words made me pause.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow and pointed at my phone, “Is that Sakusa?”

Iwaizumi stopped mid sentence whatever he was telling Akaashi and his head swirled around. “Sakusa?”

“Don’t abandon your friends for me. It’s my bad for not calling earlier.”

“Is he in Tokyo?” Kenma asked from beside Kuroo, who gasped when I nodded and told me to invite the raven haired man to the restaurant.

“Well, darlin’, it seems like my friends want ya to join us.”

A pause, then he chuckled. “Darlin’?” He repeated.

“Are ya gonna come here or not?”

“Where even is here?”

“Hold on,” I murmured, pulling my phone away from my ear to send him my location. “There. How far are ya?”

“Not far. I’ll let you know when I’m outside.”

The call had barely disconnected when Kuroo was speaking again. “Not dating, my ass.” He laughed, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re finally smiling over a guy. I never thought I’d see the day.”

I shook my head and pressed my lips into a thin line when I realized I had been smiling. “Shut up.” I slapped his arm away. “I ain’t smilin’ ‘cause of Kiyoomi!”

“So he’s Kiyoomi now?” Iwaizumi teased from across the table. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me as he leaned back in his seat.

My cheeks flushed as the waitress came with another round of drinks and collected the empty glasses on the table. Akaashi ordered appetizers to share between us, then let her know we would need an extra chair.

Sakusa arrived just as the waitress started bringing the food. I excused myself to meet him outside, linking my fingers behind my back to hold back from touching him once I stood in front of him.

“Hi.” I breathed out as he pocketed his phone and shortened the distance between us. He raised an eyebrow. “Ya came just in time for the food.” A nervous laugh escaped me.

He pressed his lips to my forehead through his mask, making me short circuit. “Hi.” He murmured once leaned back, but not leaving much space between us. He’s just acting like this in case someone sees us, I’m sure. He was speaking again before I could even say anything, “Which friends am I meeting, again?”

“Uh, ‘s just Kuroo, Akaashi, Kenma, which ya probably already know from high school volleyball, and I don’t know if y’know ‘bout Iwaizumi, he’s from Miyagi.” I answered. He hummed, reaching for my hand behind my back. I glanced at our hands as he linked our fingers together. “They know we ain’t… y’know.” I gestured between us with my now free hand, avoiding saying it out loud in case someone heard us. “And our table’s pretty secluded, so no need to pretend with ’em.”

“Noted.” He simply said as he held the door open for me and trailed after me as I headed toward the table, his hand still holding onto mine.

I heard the guys laughing loudly before we even rounded the corner. It subsided once they realized we were standing there. I could almost feel the exact moment Sakusa regretted coming here, his muscles tensing as he slipped his free hand into his pocket. I tugged at his hand to lead him to our seats as the guys greeted him.

I settled down beside Kuroo again, and Sakusa’s hand landed on my thigh once he sat down beside me. Kuroo wasted no time pushing a glass of whiskey in his direction. Sakusa seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he tucked the mask under his chin and grabbed the drink.

I glanced at Akaashi across the table. “Kei, your friend never called me. Which one was it again that got engaged, Kaori or Yukie?”

“Ah,” He nodded once. “It was Yukie. Apparently she broke up with her boyfriend not long after, I forgot to tell you.”

Iwaizumi hummed, taking a sip of his drink before speaking up. “She was dating that physician from the National Team, right?”

Akaashi leaned forward and lowered his voice. “She told Kaori and I that he was a good guy and she was happy with him, but that she didn’t know if she could marry someone who couldn’t even make her finish.”

Kuroo nearly spat out his drink, failing to hold back his laughter. Iwaizumi was not doing any better. Men truly were worse gossipers than women. Even Kenma was pressing his lips together to hold back a smile.

“Hold on, hold on.” I let out a soft laugh, clearly the only one sober enough at the table to control myself. “So she said yes to his proposal, but then she broke up with him? Because he couldn’t make her come?”

Kuroo slapped his hand down on the table, unable to hold back his hyena laugh, even though all I did was repeat what Akaashi said.

Akaashi ignored him, “She didn’t want to embarrass him. It was a public proposal. Don’t know many details, but once the excitement of the proposal wore off she had, like, an epiphany? I don’t know, I didn't understand most of her girl talk with Kaori.”

“They probably had sex that night and she remembered that he can’t even find the clit.” Kuroo murmured between snickers as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have told us that. I don’t know how I’ll be able to look him in the eye now.” Iwaizumi shook his head and gulped down the rest of his drink.

Sakusa was eerily quiet beside me, a faint smile on his lips, his fingers still splayed on my thigh. I glanced at him, tuning out the conversation between the guys for a moment as I reached for his wrist and gently squeezed. His eyes darted to me, eyebrows slightly furrowed together. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Kuroo spoke up before I could get the chance to ask him if he wanted to leave.

“So, what are you doing in Tokyo, Sakusa?”

I glared at Kuroo. Sakusa tapped his fingers on my thigh before answering, “My sister was in a car accident. A woman ran a red light and rammed into the passenger side where she was sitting.”

“I hope she’s out of danger now.” Akaashi commented.

“Thankfully she is. She kicked me out of her room because she said I was worrying too much, so here I am.” The corners of his lips twitched as he glanced at me, then his eyes fell on his glass as the guys started talking amongst themselves again.

I leaned toward him, resting my hand on top of his. “How’s the baby?” I lowered my voice to keep our conversation between us only.

“She lost a lot of blood. They had to do an emergency c-section.” His hand turned in mine, his fingers lacing between mine. “He’s doing pretty well despite being born prematurely. He just has to stay at the hospital for a few weeks, but the doctors have high hopes that he will be able to breathe on his own soon.”

I squeezed his hand in reassurance. His gaze softened as he met my eyes again. My other hand onto his wrist, my thumb rubbing his skin, furrowing my eyebrows when I felt small bumps on his forearm.

I looked down at his arm. “What’s this?”

He tugged his sleeve down and gently pushed my hand off. He rolled his eyes when he realized I was pouting. “Just hives. It’s already healing.”

But he glanced away as he spoke, as if he couldn’t meet my eyes. I pressed my lips into a thin line and decided to drop it if he obviously didn’t want me asking about it.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked after a moment in silence.

He couldn’t hide the way his shoulders relaxed immediately at my words even if he tried. He nodded, then let go of my hand so I could reach for my purse. We said goodbye to the guys before he led me out of the restaurant with an arm around my waist, ignoring their suggestive remarks and teasing laughs.

He walked me to my apartment. His cheeks had flushed when I invited him in, he walked in behind me after a moment of hesitation.

“Tea?” I asked as I dropped my things on the table near the door and headed into the kitchen. I felt his presence behind me as I opened the cupboard and reached for the mugs at the top shelf. It slipped from my fingers, but Sakusa was behind me in a second. He gently placed it on the counter before reaching for the other one.

My heart stopped the moment I felt his chest pressing against my back. I held onto the edge of the counter, my eyes fluttered shut when he stayed there even after he had closed the cupboard.

“Thanks.” I forced myself to say, to stir him– us out of it. He hummed softly under his breath in acknowledgment, then he slowly stepped away from me until I could no longer feel the warmth of his body. I released a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding in and reached for the kettle.

It started to rain outside. I glanced at the drops hitting my window, letting out a soft sigh. At least we got here before it started pouring.

I didn’t turn back around until the two cups were filled, and even then I grabbed mine and turned right back around to keep watching the rain falling outside.

“Is your hotel far from here?” I found myself asking him as I sipped my tea. The rain didn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon.

“I was supposed to stay at my parents’, but I could go to my aunt’s instead. I was hoping that they would be less… unpleasant, with my sister in the hospital and all. It seems that they just don’t have an off switch. My mother, specifically.” I felt his footsteps as he shortened the distance between us until he was standing beside me, my shoulder brushing against his arm. “I think it’s one of the reasons why I accepted helping you. I know what it’s like to deal with difficult parents and struggling to enforce boundaries just because they’re your parents.”

I shrugged. “My parents seem like saints compared to yours. At least my mom’s only worried about my love life because the first and last time I was into someone, I got my heart broken.” I glanced at him, letting my eyes linger on his profile for a moment since he was staring out the window too. “I’m sorry ya have to put up with that when you’re home.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault.”

I gestured to the hallway. “I have a guest room.” I blurted out before I could realize it.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” He immediately declined with a shake of his head.

“You’re never a bother, Kiyoomi.” I went to reach for his hand, but then I let my hand drop back to my side. “The guys leave clothes here all the time, I’m sure you can find something that fits you. Same goes for soap and shower gels. If you don’t like those 3 in 1 soaps they use and you don’t mind smelling like coconut, I can let you borrow my shampoo and conditioner.”

He was quiet, making me pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I chewed on it nervously. I put my cup down, still half full but the tea had grown cold already, and turned to face him.

“You don’t have to stay here. Sorry I offered. Probably already have your own routine and products given how careful you are with your hygiene. I’ll pay for your ride back to your parents’ once it stops raining, ‘s my fault anyways ya came all the way he–“

Sakusa cupped my cheeks and leaned down, effectively cutting me off mid sentence as our lips pressed together.

I stood frozen, eyes wide open. He pulled back after a moment, eyes slowly fluttering open until I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his again. My hands remained on the edge of the counter as he caged me between it and his body.

He leaned back just enough for our lips to disconnect and an involuntary whimper escaped me when I tried to kiss him again but he held me back. He grabbed my hips and hoisted me up onto the counter. My legs parted to give him space to stand between my thighs.

“I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman here.”

I rested my palms on the counter and leaned back, staring at his half lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips. He leaned into me as I moved, his hands closed into fists beside my thighs.

“Don’t want ya t’ be a gentleman, Kiyoomi.”

His breath brushed over my lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he took one slow, deep breath. He started leaning back, away from me.

Well, that just won’t do.

My hands moved to the front of his shirt and fisted the fabric between my fingers until he had no choice but to lean forward. Our lips met once again, only that this time it seemed different– it was different. It felt for a moment as if time had stopped moving around us.

His fingers were cold when they returned to my cheek, a soft laugh shared between us when I jumped. He slightly tilted my head to the side just as his other hand found my waist. My fingers slowly uncurled from his shirt until my palms were pressed flat against his chest. I could feel his heart beating against my palm, just as fast as mine was. The fact that he was as affected as me shouldn’t have made me feel this warm inside… and between my legs.

His tongue hesitantly licked my bottom lip, but then he pulled me further to the edge and it slipped into my mouth when I gasped. I could feel his hardness digging into my inner thigh now, I could feel his chest heaving against mine. It should be embarrassing the way I arched into him and tilted my chin up to adjust the angle. The taste of the whiskey he had been sipping at the restaurant invading my senses.

It should definitely be embarrassing how I moaned into his mouth when his hand moved to the back of my head and grabbed my hair. He tugged me back until our lips were forced to part. My heart slammed against my ribcage, nearly skipping a beat when my eyes opened and found him already staring at me.

“I can’t–“ He cut himself off when his voice cracked, clearing his throat before speaking again. “I can’t stay here. We can’t do this.”

My eyebrows furrowed together. He untangled himself from me and grabbed our forgotten cups of tea from the counter to leave them in the sink. I closed my legs, pressing my thighs together in embarrassment, even though he turned his back to me.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

I closed my eyes, unable to look even at the back of his head.

“I made a mistake.” His voice lowered. “This isn’t right.”

Each word felt like he was stabbing a knife into my chest. Of course, why would he want me? I’m just his teammate’s best friend who roped him into this fucking mess of pretending to be dating because, just like he said, I’m afraid to set boundaries with my parents.

When I opened my eyes he was still standing in front of the sink, his head lowered and his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“Listen, I’m not the best at explaining myself–“

“Ya said plenty, Sakusa.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his last name. It just didn’t feel right calling him Kiyoomi in private, not after he called our kiss a mistake. A kiss he initiated.

“Just leave.” I hated how small my voice sounded, how it carried all the hurt I was feeling right now. “Please.” I added after a moment.

He nodded once, looking at me like he wanted to say something else, but then he just walked to the door. I was left sitting there on the counter, not allowing a single tear to leave my eyes until the door clicked shut.

being single was not exactly a choice on her part, it was more of a consequence of her demanding job as one of the best wedding planner in tokyo. her parents asked constantly if she was at least speaking with anyone romantically and when she would give them grandchildren. they pressured her to the point that she lied to them about having a boyfriend so they would leave her alone, only for them to say they want to meet him at her best friend’s wedding. time to come clean! or… find a fake boyfriend to keep her parents happy?

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[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter SEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, so many character cameos, denial is a river in egypt, chaos. || sfw. 2.4k words.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE Utahime's not in this welcome party," Gojo grumbles as you descend the steps off the jet. You just snort, and then Yuji skips the last three steps and starts running across the tarmac. Nitta, despite your insistence that she didn't need to, has met you at the airport along with two of the Samurai players.

“Christ,” you say as Yuji drops his bag on the ground, leaving it unattended.

“Choso!” he shouts, practically leaping onto the player on Nitta’s right. The taller man has a mess of brown hair wrangled into space buns, and he ruffles Yuji’s hair when he sets him down.

“Good to see you before we beat your ass.”

The man beside Choso opens his arms expectantly. “No love for your brother?”

“Todo.” Choso crosses his arms. “I’m actually his brother.”

“Half,” Todo retorts.

“Half is more than you.”

“We’re bonded by the college oath,” Todo says solemnly, pulling Yuji into a hug.

“Kari!” you yell, and she grins and meets you halfway. “Oh my god. It’s been too long.”

Akari Nitta, your small forward in college and also your senior year roommate. “I missed you,” she says as she pulls you into a hug. “How’re the Sorcerers? You like it there, they treat you well?”

“Good, yeah. I’m happy,” you say, honestly. “You?”

Akari’s been with the Samurai for four consecutive seasons now, and you already know she has no intention of leaving. She loves it there, loves the team, and you can’t deny how excited you are for this round of the competition.

It’s the best kind of game, you think, when the teams are evenly matched and actually respect one another. But you’re still worried—the issue now isn’t that they’ll play dirty, like the Phantoms. It’s that they’re good. Really good.

“Nitta,” Kento greets, holding out a hand. “Good to see you.” He glances over her shoulder, at where Yuji is talking animatedly with Choso and Todo.

“You too, Nanami.” Nitta follows his gaze and chuckles. “Haibara’s wrangling the rest of them at practice. I said family only, and then Todo basically forced himself into the car. At some point it’s just easier not to fight him.” Kento chuckles and nods at Nitta before falling back in with the rest of the team.

Haibara played for the Sorcerers before getting traded a couple of years back. You don’t know him personally, but you know your team is very fond of him. Ieiri catches up with you and strikes up a conversation with Nitta, and the three of you follow the team through a wide hangar and to the line of vehicles waiting outside.

“Still think you should’ve stayed with me,” Akari tells you as you board the bus that’s taking you and the team to the hotel.

You grin. “It’d be preferable. But I have to babysit.” She laughs and squeezes you on the shoulder before pulling Choso and Todo away from Yuji, herding them back into the car to get back to their own team.

You watch the old city go by through the bus window, thankful you don’t have to try to navigate driving the streets of Savannah yourself during rush hour. The scattered horse-drawn carriages and swarms of warm-weather tourists punctuate every street corner, and though it’s nowhere near the same extent as the chaos of New York, you don’t envy the ones who have to focus on the roads instead of the river, running silvery-blue in the evening light.

Gojo briefly tries to sing again in the back of the bus, and he only gets as far as “concrete jung—” before somebody silences him with a thud that you assume is a backpack, if his offended squawk is anything to go by.

"What part of this place looks like concrete to you?" Megumi asks dryly.

Even the day before the game, you see Samurai jerseys and hats dotting the sidewalks, a few flags hung in the doorways of shops.

First seed, you think, staring out the window at the slowly darkening streets. You hope the team can pull through.

—

Iori Utahime is looking at Gojo like she’s going to castrate him on the spot.

“Utahiiiime!” he sings. “It’s been so long!”

“Not long enough,” she says, crossing her arms and turning up her chin. Long, purple-streaked hair falls past her shoulders, the back tied up in a bow you’ve never seen her without. “Any chance you’re less of a menace than you used to be?”

“No,” says a voice from behind you, and you’ve never seen a person’s entire countenance shift so quickly as Utahime catches sight of Ieiri and immediately breaks into a grin. She sprints toward her, launching into her arms.

“Shoko!” she shrieks, and Ieiri laughs and wraps her arms around her. “I missed you!”

“Utahime,” she says warmly. “How’ve you been?”

They launch into conversation—or, Utahime launches into conversation while Ieiri smiles pleasantly and nods along—and Gojo is forced to abandon his quest to annoy Utahime in favor of actually doing his job and playing basketball.

“She just doesn’t get me like you do,” he whispers on his way past.

“I don’t get you,” you retort, but he’s already gone.

The atmosphere in the Samurai stadium is entirely different than the rest of the games you’ve been to—this is a rivalry, sure, but a friendly one. Players greet each other across the court, the boys ecstatic to be reunited with Haibara, and the fans seem to be aware of the connections across the two teams. There’s significantly less hostility than you’ve gotten used to as the Sorcerers are introduced.

You catch a glimpse of blue hair in the front row of the home side and realize Kasumi Miwa is here. She’s already attracting quite a bit of attention, a massively successful WNBA player herself. You played with her in college, too, but you know she’s here for their point guard, Kokichi Muta.

Gojo stands at center court, ready to take the tip-off against Noritoshi, the other Kamo on the Samurai. You don’t remember quite how he’s related to Choso, but it’s amusing just how intertwined all the players on the court are right now.

For a second you think Kamo’s going to win the tip-off, but Gojo’s arm shoots up out of nowhere and then he’s running with the ball. He darts around Kamo and passes to Yuji, and the Sorcerers are 2-0 within the first thirty seconds of the game.

And then Haibara gets one in, and they’re tied. And then Gojo nails a three-pointer. And then Choso does, too.

Your neck is starting to hurt from how much you’re snapping it back and forth, both ends of the court in constant play as the advantage shifts every other minute. Megumi isn’t starting today, and you can feel his anxiety even from your place near the hall doors.

This game is insane.

Toward the end of the first quarter, Megumi subs in for Toge, and the second he hits the court he plays as if he never left. Kento lobs the ball his way and Megumi scores another three, and then Ino slips by Todo and leaps, fingers almost touching the hoop as the ball slams in.

It’s one of the tightest games you’ve seen in a long time. They’re always within five points of one another, back and forth, back and forth. The Sorcerers are leading at halftime by two, but it’s not a lead anyone is confident in.

While the team is back in the locker room, you slip over to the home side to talk to Kasumi. She grins and tugs you into a hug. “Alley-oop!”

You laugh, the stupid nickname so familiar falling from her lips. “Kasumi!” You pull back and smile. “How’re the Shadows? Do you love it? You fucking killed it this last season.”

She flushes a little, never having been big on accepting compliments. “Ah, I’ve got a great team.”

You arch a brow. “And they’re lucky to have you.” Taking mercy on her, you switch the subject. “So things with Kokichi are going well.”

She gets that dreamy look in her eyes, and you decide Kasumi and Muta are maybe the only couple you’ll accept being this fucking sappy all the time. They’ve been together since your senior year of college, and you’re pretty sure the basketball gods made them for each other.

“I think he’s gonna propose soon,” Kasumi whispers, and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a squeal.

“Kasumi,” you gasp.

She giggles. “Don’t say anything. He just can’t keep secrets from me. He’s not slick.”

You mime zipping your mouth and tossing the key, and she pretends to unzip it as she asks, “What about you? How are things in the Southeast?”

“Hot,” you say. “Humid. Busy. But good.”

“And Gojo?”

You blink. “Gojo?”

“Uh, y’know, star player, six three, easy on the eyes?” She raises her eyebrows like she knows something, and the implications hit you all at once.

“Oh my god, Kasumi.”

She blinks innocently. “Reunited after three long, long years. No romanticism in that?”

“We work together,” you hiss, which feels like a gross understatement. “And he’s…”

She raises a brow, waiting. You can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks. It’s such a ridiculous notion that you don’t even have a proper response.

“I honestly think he just became tolerable,” you say. “God, I wouldn’t date—”

“Oh, you say that now,” she says, a smug curve to her lips.

“What does that—”

“Oh, look at the time.” You follow Kasumi’s gaze to where the players have started filing back into the gym. “Back to your coworker, you.”

“Kasumi Miwa—”

“I love you too!” she beams. “Good to see you. Really.”

Rolling your eyes, you wave your left hand at her, pointing discreetly at your ring finger as you retreat across the gym. You watch as the bright red returns to her cheeks and return her smug grin from earlier.

God. Easy on the eyes.

It’s not like Gojo’s not attractive. Girls fawn over him and you can understand why, objectively. Tall, strong, all lean muscle, those stupidly bright blue eyes and whiter-than-white hair. But he’s one of those guys who’s just hot until he opens his mouth.

Even if he hasn’t been quite as annoying lately, the natural progression of a conversation about Kasumi’s soon-to-be-fiancé should not be to start talking about Satoru Gojo.

On the sidelines, he winks at you, and your roll your eyes but have to turn away before he sees the heat rising to your cheeks. Not helping right after Kasumi decided to put those thoughts in your head.

Fucking hell. What’s wrong with you?

You shake off the encounter as the game starts back up. You might’ve had the lead before the half, but the Samurai come back strong. Very strong. Todo is impossible to get around, he’s everywhere at once, and Muta is making shots from insane distances while Choso just keeps dunking. The disadvantage to having played with Haibara is that he knows the way the team plays, and he seems to have relayed whatever tips he can to his teammates.

But it goes both ways. Kento knows every shot Haibara will take before it happens, and Yuji and Todo are so tuned into each other’s movements that they can’t get the jump on the other.

It’s insane and it’s stressful but it’s damn good basketball. With damn good people, too. Yuta gets knocked down and Todo helps him back up. Choso keeps making faces at Yuji across the court. When Choso dunks right over Ino, you even hear Gojo let out a low whistle of appreciation for the shot.

When the buzzer signals the game’s end, the Sorcerers have lost by three. Muta scored the winning shot, and after the game is called he runs right off the court to sweep Kasumi up in a hug. Across the court, you see Gojo terrorizing Utahime again, Kento bumping fists with Haibara, Choso and Todo crowding Yuji as Megumi watches in amusement.

Nobara sighs as she looks up at the scoreboard. 81-78.

God, it was close. Really, really close.

It’s one game, you tell yourself. They can swing it. They’ve got time.

The mood after the game is a weird mixture of excited and tense—the guys knew they were walking into a match with a better ranked team, but now they’re feeling it. It’s the hardest they’ve had to play in a while, and Yaga and Kusakabe are talking strategy before they even hit the locker room.

You get back to your hotel room late, another night of emails and scheduling and a too-bright screen, and when you get back, Ieiri is smirking at you.

“What?”

She nods to your bed. “Had a visitor a while ago.”

You follow her gaze to a folded pile of blue and green fabric on the end of your bed, a note on top of it. “Oh my god.”

You know what that is. You’d know it from a mile away, because you wrote the renewal contract for it, because it’s been scattered throughout the stands at home games, because you’ve approved ads and worked on shoot screenings with Nobara.

The shirt is soft in your hands, and you pick up the note, scrawled on a piece of paper torn from the hotel notepad.

figured our star manager deserved free star merch, right? you’re welcome!!!!!!

His handwriting is messy and slanted, the line of exclamation points nearing horizontal toward the right edge of the page. It’s so incredibly boyish you have to stifle a laugh, and in place of a signature Gojo has doodled his own face in the corner: a little circle with spiked up hair and a black headband, tugged over his eyes like a blindfold. Probably because he didn’t want to deal with drawing eyes, you think.

The shirt’s in your size, a long-sleeve that starts out blue and washes into a light green in a vertical gradient. LIMITLESS is printed across it in a thin sans serif, a Nike swoosh twisted into an infinity sign above the T.

“Idiot,” you mutter. Star merch. Arrogant idiot who sneaks into hotel rooms to leave his own merch and assumes you want it. Actually, he probably knows you don’t. That’s why he didn’t give it to you in person. That makes it worse. He’s just taunting you in his typical Gojo way.

You toss the shirt into your bag and slide the note into your laptop case, not seeing a recycling bin. Ieiri chuckles, and you look up at sharply. “What?”

She holds her hands up, palms out in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

When you try to fall asleep, staring at the shadowed popcorn ceiling, you’re reeling. Kasumi’s words pinball around your skull like it’s an echo chamber. The Limitless shirt sits heavy in your bag against the wall. Gojo winks in your mind’s eye. You feel his hand curled over yours, pen in your fist.

You hope you don’t dream.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[cupidjyu]

jealousy, jealousy

(hyung line) when they get jealous over another member

genre: jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, a lot of kissing, hyunjae is a buff fool in this, im pretty sure you get yanked or yank him in each of these for some reason, slow dancing!!! shy! sangyeon! notes: eric summer fic🫥 word count: 1.7k

sangyeon

“Sangyeon?”

You poked your head outside of the door. Your boyfriend immediately looked up, his hair slightly damp from sweat and his previously focused expression quickly became a foolish, very-in-love one.

“Hi there,” He greeted, his eyes bright simply at the sight of you. He approached you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“Eugh,” You groaned, pushing him off. “I have your drink balanced in my hand and you’re all sweaty from dance.”

He pouted and took the iced americano from you. “You didn’t say it back.”

You looked at him in disbelief for a second before sighing in defeat. “I missed you too.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” He sang, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. You laughed bashfully, turning your head slightly. That was when you noticed another man, staring intently at himself in the mirror.

“Hyunjae,” You called out with a wave. 

He turned around and he immediately broke out into a friendly smile. “Y/n!” His voice was bright and loud as usual as he approached the two of you. “Actually, now would be a good opportunity to ask you a question.”

You tilted your head.

And to your surprise, he rolled up his sleeve to show off his entire arm. “Do you think I got more muscular?” 

You lifted an eyebrow. Hyunjae whined as he brought his sleeve back down.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because I need another opinion. I worked out a lot for the past few weeks,” He explained. You thought for a second. As a perfectly good, moral friend, you replied earnestly.

“I see a lot of progress.” You patted his shoulder. “Your arm… muscles look great.”

Hyunjae nodded in satisfaction. “I treasure your opinion.” And then he was off to buy a snack from the vending machine. With an amused smile, you turned back to Sangyeon, only to be met with the most adorable pout in the world. His eyebrows were furrowed as he searched your eyes with sorrow.

“Sangyeon?”

“What about me?”

You paused. And then you burst out into laughter. But, before you could respond, he was pulling you out and into the hallway. You watched him with a fond smile.

“Jealous?” 

He only replied with an embarrassed silence. You chuckled.

“I think that your muscles are amazing,” You exaggerated. Sangyeon groaned, leaning forward to pull you into a hug so that he could hide his face.

“What else do you like?” He whispered. In the corner of your eye, you could see that the tips of his ears were red.

“Mmm…” You hummed. “Your lips?”

He pulled away at that, and he gazed at you, or moreover–your lips–with a sultry expression. “Oh really?” He muttered, leaning in. You sputtered slightly, completely forgetting your past remark about him being sweaty. In fact, he looked very attractive like this. 

And before you could even say a “yes,” he was already leaning in, pressing a deep kiss to yours. 

jacob

Humming happily to yourself, you and Jacob were cuddling in bed until you were interrupted by an excited yell from the living room.

“Y/n!” Kevin’s voice called out loudly. “C’mere! There’s a new music video!”

You widened your eyes, turning to look at Jacob who was only staring back at you with soft eyes. He always said that he enjoyed seeing you happy and excited.

“Go,” He mumbled. You smiled and practically jumped out of his arms to run over to Kevin who had turned on the video of your shared favorite music artist. The two of you laughed hysterically as you watched and soon enough, you found yourself dancing with him, holding up fake microphones to sing. 

Grasping hands, jumping up and down, you and Kevin, as perfectly good best friends, danced to the music. Little did you know, Jacob was watching from around the corner. Though he half enjoyed watching you have fun, he also half didn’t enjoy seeing you have fun with someone else. 

Once the music video was over, you looked over to Jacob who was watching with a serious expression. Slightly out of breath, you walked over, only for him to take you by the wrist and whisk you away privately.

“Is everything okay?” You frowned.

He shook his head. “No. I’m jealous.”

Your jaw almost dropped open at his words. He was never one to be so straightforward. But then your eyes softened as you cupped his jaw with your hand.

“Don’t be, you know that I love to dance with you the most.”

“Really?” He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Because we never have before.”

“Then let’s do it now.”

“Aren’t you tired from all that dancing?” His gaze was gentle and kind.

You shook your head with an eager smile, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the middle of the room. Slowly, you began to slow dance with him, swaying and holding him close to his chest. 

“Oh,” He breathed out, a smile growing on his lips. “We should do this more often.”

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest. “I think so too.”

It was silent for a moment, just the two of you stepping side to side, embracing each other’s warmth.

“I love you,” Jacob whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You grinned, leaning up to instead kiss his lips. “I love you too.”

younghoon

“Ouch,” Younghoon muttered, massaging the spot on his chest where you had just run into.

You frowned. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you.” You cupped his cheeks, pressing small kisses all over. He was about to lean in to press his lips to yours until you heard a familiar cackle from down the hallway.

Panicking, you looked up at your boyfriend. “I have to go. Changmin’s going to get me.” And before he could even utter a response, you were already running to hide in another room. It was a simple game of chase between friends. Neither of you knew who even started it.

Younghoon watched silently as you laughed dearly when Changmin had found you. His heart warmed at the sight of your beautiful smile but, there was a frown on his lips when he saw how it was his own friend who made you giggle. With a sigh, he walked away, devising a quick plan in his head.

Breathing heavily, you burst into an empty room, trying to find a place to hide. Just as you walked past the walk-in closet, you felt a gentle, familiar hand grab onto your wrist and pull you in. With a yelp, you found yourself pressed up right against to Younghoon’s chest.

Before you could even ask him what was wrong, his hand was on your waist as he brought you into a soft kiss, tilting his head lightly. You were confused, but you easily melted into the kiss with a small smile.

“Younghoon…” You whispered, pulling away with a shy expression.

He lifted an eyebrow with an adorable frown, his hair slightly messy. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

You noticed that his voice was laced with obvious sarcasm and so you stared at him in utter disbelief. And then you broke out into fond laughter.

“Are you jealous?” You questioned, letting your hand trail down to his.

His frown only deepened, making you grin more. “...yes.”

“You’re so cute.” You smiled. “You know that you’re the only one for me, right?” He nodded silently and so you pressed your lips to his again. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned in even deeper.

Stumbling out of the closet, red-cheeked and out of breath, the two of you looked up, only to see Changmin standing outside. He grimaced.

“Ew, oh my god,” He groaned before sticking his tongue out. “I won by the way. Since you got distracted.”

hyunjae

“Can you turn on the speaker?” Hyunjae appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into a tight back hug. “We have to practice.”

You eyed him with faux annoyance. “If you would let me go, I will.”

He smiled cheekily, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “In a minute.”

Sticking your tongue out, you wriggled out of his hold and approached the speaker, only to find it in the worst spot possible. Reaching in the weirdest angles, you couldn’t quite get the button. Immediately, Hyunjae, who always had his eyes on you, noticed.

“I can do it–” He called out.

“Here you go.” Sangyeon suddenly appeared beside you, getting the switch with ease. Smiling up at him, you thanked him.

“Such a gentleman,” You joked.

He rolled his eyes, walking away. “That’s my nature,” He remarked.

You laughed and walked back over to Hyunjae, only to find him looking at you with those puppy eyes. His lips were also pulled into a small frown.

“Hyunjae?”

He stayed silent, turning away grumpily. With a sigh, you took his hand and pulled him out of the practice room and into a separate room made for singing. 

“What’s wrong?” Your eyes softened.

“I don’t know,” He grumbled, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Why don’t you ask Sangyeon?”

That was when it suddenly hit you, your lips parting in surprise. Biting back a fond smile, you stepped forward and hugged him. He only sulkily looked down at you and refused to return it.

“You're… jealous?” You grinned. Immediately, he was blushing with a huff of breath. He tried to avoid your eyes but you only persisted, following his gaze. Finally, with a small squirm, he nodded.

You laughed as you leaned in to hide your face in his chest.

“Then can you maybe help me with something?”

Pulling away, he looked at you with excitement as if to tell you that he would do anything for you. Which he certainly would.

“What is it?”

You hummed with a mischievous smile. “My lips are feeling a bit unoccupied.”

He chuckled with a small smirk. “Gladly. Of course I’ll help you with that.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, holding you tightly by the waist. By the time he was done, your lips felt sore. He only smiled proudly at his effect.

“Would Sangyeon be able to do that for you?”

“No," You mumbled, your cheeks flushing.

“The only correct answer,” He teased before kissing you again.

[nemo-writes]

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚒

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ previous chapter ; next chapter

You stared at the drawings pinned near the art classroom with a tilted head and a soft frown. They were a haphazard mix of projects, some clearly trying too hard, others half-hearted doodles masquerading as ‘abstract art’. Your exact thoughts must have been written all over your face, because a voice beside you quipped, “Yeah, most of these look like shit.”  

Startled, you turned to see the infamous ██████ . Her fiery red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her smirk had an edge to it—sharp, but not unkind. She cocked an eyebrow at your surprise before sticking out her hand.  

“ ████ ,” she said.  

You hesitated for a moment, then shook it and gave her your own name. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said casually, her eyes glancing back at the art wall. “Think you could do better?”  

Her confidence threw you off, but you shrugged, managing a shy, “I don’t know. Maybe.”  

After that, she began showing up around you more often, as if by some unspoken agreement. Whether it was finding her leaning against the lockers near your classes, or hearing her snarky commentary about something or someone at lunch, her presence became a constant. She masked her intentions behind a cool indifference and sharp remarks, but you weren’t fooled. She was desperate to make a friend, and despite the rumours that swirled around her, you didn’t mind.  

It was... nice, really.  

One day in the cafeteria, you were seated alone, your head down as you worked on a sketch. It wasn’t great—your lines were still too shaky, and your proportions were off—but it was yours. Absorbed in your work, you didn’t notice Greta Keene and her pack of vultures until their shadow fell over your table.  

“What’s this?” Greta sneered, snatching the sketch from your hands. Her friends snickered, egging her on as she held it up for them to see. “Sloppy. Kind of like you.”  

You didn’t respond.  

“Zombie’s not even looking at me,” Greta said with mock offence, her voice dripping with derision. “Guess I’ll just hold onto this for you.”  

Still, you didn’t react. That only annoyed her more.  

With a cruel grin, she passed your drawing around, her friends cackling as they made mocking comments. Then, with a flourish, Greta dumped your sketchbook into the trashcan before pouring a carton of milk into it. 

“There. Fixed it.”  

You stared at the trash for a moment before standing and walking out of the cafeteria. No words. No glares. No tears—at least, not until you were outside. Once there, you sniffled a bit, wiping at your eyes angrily. But you brushed it off. 

Keep going, you told yourself. Just keep going.  

Later that day, ████ found you right after school. She called out your name from the back of the school, and when you rounded the corner, there she was, leaning against the brick wall with a lit cigarette in hand.  

“Hey,” she said, holding up something as you approached. “I got you this.”  

It was a brand-new sketchbook.  

“I... borrowed it from the art classroom,” she admitted with a nonchalant shrug. “Figured it’s the least I could do. Sorry I didn’t save your old one.”  

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you swallowed down the tears threatening to spill. Instead, you grabbed the sketchbook and muttered, “Thanks.”  

████ studied you for a moment, then offered the cigarette. “Want one?”  

You blinked at her, surprised, before narrowing your eyes. “Really?”  

“Why not?” she challenged, a playful grin spreading across her face.  

You hesitated, then took the cigarette and brought it to your lips. One puff later, you were coughing so hard you thought your lungs might explode.  

████ burst out laughing, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh my god! You look like you’re dying!”  

You slapped her arm, glaring half-heartedly. “S-shut up!”  

But then, to your surprise, you started laughing too.  

That was the moment ████ truly became your friend, sealing it with a stolen sketchbook, a cigarette, and a shared laugh under the afternoon sun.

A few days later, you were at your locker, the low hum of voices and shuffling feet filling the school hallway. The usual chaos of students rushing between classes swirled around you, but you were focused on arranging your things. You carefully tucked your new sketchbook into the safest corner of your bag, already anticipating the quiet satisfaction of filling its pages later.

The sound of the locker door slamming shut startled you. When you turned, you froze.

Standing a few feet away was your art teacher, Professor ██████ .

He was handsome, in the kind of way that drew attention—his perfectly swept blond hair, sharp features, and piercing blue eyes made him impossible to overlook. Students, particularly the girls in your class, adored him. He had a polished charm that made them giggle during lessons, and even the other teachers seemed to brighten when he entered a room.

You, however, remained indifferent. To you, he was just another teacher—no more, no less.

“Hello,” he said smoothly, his tone polite but with an undercurrent you couldn’t quite name. “How’s the art coming along?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Shrugging slightly, you avoided meeting his gaze. “It’s… fine.”

“Just fine?” he pressed lightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders stiffening further.

The silence stretched, filled only by the muffled sounds of lockers banging and sneakers squeaking down the polished floors. His gaze remained steady on you, unyielding in a way that made the hallway seem narrower.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice softening, “you’ve got real talent. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

The compliment, though phrased kindly, felt mechanical. Hollow. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag as you glanced away. “I’m not wasting anything,” you replied curtly, keeping your voice measured.

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his features. “I didn’t say you were,” he countered, his voice smooth and deliberate. He stepped closer, his shadow falling across your locker. “But talent like yours needs room to grow. Have you thought any more about that competition I mentioned last month?”

The memory of the colorful leaflet surfaced in your mind unbidden. You’d buried it deep in your bag and hadn’t thought about it since. “I don’t really do competitions,” you said flatly, your shoulders stiffening further.

For a moment, something broke through his polished demeanor—a subtle crack in his expression. Irritation? Disappointment? It was hard to tell, and he smoothed it over almost instantly. “Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone leads to surprising rewards,” he said, his tone measured and calm. “But, of course, it’s your decision.”

You didn’t respond, your fingers brushing absently over the edge of your sketchbook. The hallway seemed to grow louder, the distant chatter and clatter contrasting with the tension that lingered between you.

“Well,” he said finally, his voice lightening but still deliberate. “I won’t keep you. But try not to hide too much, hm? There’s a whole world out there waiting to be reflected in your work.”

Your eyes flicked up to him reluctantly, his words settling heavily in the air between you. “Sure,” you said quietly, your voice noncommittal.

He smiled faintly, his piercing eyes catching yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Take care of yourself. And remember—art is a reflection of the artist. Don’t be afraid to let the world see who you are.”

He turned to leave, his steps unhurried, but just before he disappeared into the crowd of students, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Oh,” he added casually, a faint note of amusement lacing his voice, “and tell Miss ████ to ask next time before borrowing a sketchbook from my classroom.”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment flooding you as you scrambled for something to say. But no words came out. Instead, you stood there, clutching your bag as though it could shield you from his knowing look.

With that, he turned away, his polished shoes clicking softly against the floor as he disappeared into the sea of students. You stayed rooted to the spot, your grip on your bag tightening as his words lingered uncomfortably in your mind.

divider credit

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 11

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday (i know it's tuesday that's my bad 💀). every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

and if you're warm, then you can't relate to me by remrose

They get stuck outside from a 3AM fire alarm. “I call it the ten-pound-quilt.” Will winked like it was a secret, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “I lent it to one of my siblings once and he said it was like being suffocated by a wet cement pancake. I love it."

will 'problem causer and embarrassed about it' solace so so real. this fic is also stellar bc nico is lowkey aware how much will likes him. that is how the dynamic should be i think.

2. Those walls I built didn't even put up a fight by @sazandorable

"Is it morally okay to stab a medic with their own scissors?" Nico asked Cecil. (Not that he usually cared about morally okay, as Octavian might demonstrate.) Nico's three days in the infirmary go by faster than he'd thought, and Will just won't stop flirting.

bruh this fic made me LAUGH. it wholly deserves the nearly quarter million hits it has jfc. i 100% clicked for the 'jason is a very embarrassing and very supportive ally' tag and it TOTALLY lived up and it was hilarious. he is. will's characterization was SO SO good and the whole fic just had me giggling!!

3. this is my kingdom come by remrose

Five times Nico and Will pretended they were dating. College AU.

the slow and unnoticeable slide from fake dating to real dating. fucking kills me every time. like oh yeah maybe i do love you. maybe you are everything to me. maybe i do want to spend the rest of my life with you. maybe loving you is this easy. GOD. god. insert seinfield gif her bc it fucking gets to me alright. it gets to me.

4. Days Gone By by @ghostystarr

Everyone was afraid of him, the boy who could talk to ghosts. Will just really wanted to know if his goldfish was haunting him every time he used the bathroom. AU Solangelo.

i am a sucker for childhood friends to lovers alright. and modern au with medium nico is art. so what if it is on the nose. it is amusing. and posting this ghosty ass fic on halloween the year solangelo came out is fucking camp idc this author ate up.

5. Patience and Patients by skyrat

Will Solace didn't mean to get a crush on the most exasperating demigod he'd ever met. But once he started watching Nico di Angelo he couldn't turn away. The lines between intentions and feelings got blurred. But how do you tell if the guy you like feels the same way when he's never around?

will having a crush on nico for a thousand years is literally my favourite trope like i love him actually. his pining ass will never get old! it will never get old. i will never get tired of reading it. also this is unrelated but i read this for the first time the day it was posting, which was the Day after i turned twelve lol time truly flies.

thank you for joining me this saturday tuesday sh don't worry about the actual date friday!! happy reading!!

[xas24]

santi having a little crush on a girl at school & asking pedri for advice and he tells her what he did to get y/n 🫶🏼

my advice to you.. ~ pedri

summary: santiago has a little crush so pedri gives him some advice.

when pedri drove y/n over to santiago’s school to pick him up one day, the flustered little look on the boys face didn’t go unnoticed by pedri. whilst y/n was on her phone, he had seen the little interaction santiago had with the another girl by the school entrance.

he watched, smirking slightly, as santiago and the little girl smiled at eachother as a way to bid eachother goodbye before he started walking towards pedri’s car.

obviously, since y/n was sat right next to him, he chose not to say anything, not wanting to embarrass santiago infront of his sister. he decided he’ll ask him when y/n is out of the car for a few minutes, which is why he started driving towards one of her favourite take out places.

y/n smiled at santi and started asking him about how his day was, what he did in his lessons, what he did at lunch, and his answer was clearly expected: played football.

“of course you did.” y/n laughed, turning forward again.

“did you win?” pedri sneakily asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror. santi immediately started cheering, spitting out profanities of “ofcourse we did!” “there was only 3 of us against 4!” “the other guys were too slow.”

y/n and pedri listened as they always did, chuckling here and there as santiago started another one of his little anecdotes about something that happened at school.

after a few minutes of silence, y/n noticed the different route they were taking home. she looked at pedri confused, “adónde vamos?” (where are we going?)

“i thought that since it’s a friday, we could all have some take out together.” pedri replied. he grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling them onto his lap.

he started to rub his thumb against hers gently, knowing she wouldn’t agree but still attempting to endear her in some way. y/n was about to protest against it before pedri brought their joined hands up to his lips to kiss her soft skin.

whatever words she had in her mouth died down as she watched his affection, knowing he had won.

“fine, okay.” she sighed, relaxing in her seat and tightening her hand in his.

they pulled up to the store in no time, but the long line at the drive-thru did not go unnoticed by both of them. pedri groaned, even though he knew he wouldn’t go to the drive-thru anyway, and started pulling into one of the free parking spaces.

he turned the car off and turned to his girlfriend. his lips were pulled into a little pout and his eyes intently stared at her, and y/n knew that look all too well.

“you know our orders, bebé.”

y/n looked at him with raised brows, her look one of seriousness. she stared at him for a few seconds longer before she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“fine, i’ll go in. stay here, i’ll be quick.”

“thank you, y/n!!” santi cheered from the back and y/n sent him a little playful shake of her head.

she grabbed her bag and opened the door before pedri stopped her. “wait, here. take my card.”

“no, pepi, it’s okay. it’s on me.”

“no, no, por favor. take it. on me.” he insisted, passing her his card.

“bebé-”

“don’t ‘bebé’ me. take it, y/n.” she sighed and shook her head with a chuckle. she took the card and closed the door not before giving him a little look as if to say ‘you didn’t have to’. pedri just shrugged his shoulder and blew her a kiss.

when he saw that she walked off, he instantly turned around in his seat to face the kid in the back.

“santi.”

“sí, pedri?”

“we need to talk.”

“about?” he shot the older boy a confused look.

“about you and that girl.”

“qué?”

“the girl you were talking to outside the gate, just now.” he watched as santiago’s reaction turned to one of realisation and he instantly smiled.

“oh, her name is maría.”

“that’s a pretty name.” santi nodded in agreement.

“is she your friend?” santi nodded again.

“what’s she like?”

“she’s so nice! she even shared some of her food with me at lunchtime and she even wanted to watch me play football!” pedri watched the happy look on santis face when talking about this new friend of his and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“do you like her?”

“sííí! she’s very nice and pretty as well.” the ten year old smiled.

“do you have a little crush on her?” pedri asked cheekily. he had a big smile on his face, trying to test the waters of what his answer would be.

“no..” santi looked away and pedri started laughing out loud at his little blushed expression.

“ay, santi. it’s okay if you do. no need to be embarrassed.” the boy looked at pedri again and he sighed a little.

“pedri you can’t tell y/n!!”

“i won’t! i won’t, i promise.”

“okay.. maybe i have a little crush on her.” he said lowly.

“lo siento, no escuché lo que dijiste..” (sorry, i didn’t hear what you said..) pedri teased him.

“¡pedri! no me hagas repetirlo.” (pedri! don’t make me repeat it!) he hid his blushing face in his hands.

“no no, okay. lo siento.” he tried to hold in his laugh as he reached forward to pull his hands away from his face.

“no need to be embarrassed! i had a crush on your sister once too.”

“you don’t have a crush on y/n anymore?” santiago asked, brows furrowed in confusion and instant worry.

“no, because now she is my girlfriend.”

“but you don’t like her anymore? that’s what a crush is, isn’t it, pedri?” santiago looked even more confused and pedri just thought of how innocent this little boy really is.

he warmly smiled at him, “y/n will be my forever crush because i love her. i will always like her but i love her too. sigues confundido, santi?” (are you still confused?)

“comprendo.” (i understand.)

pedri nodded, “i had a crush on her when i saw her at one of my matches. i thought she was so beautiful and i really wanted to talk to her. so i went up to her at the end of the match and asked for her name and her number and then we started talking.”

santi listened along carefully. “i remember when you came to my house for the first time, pedri!”

the older boy laughed. “sí, i remember it too. you cried so much we all got worried!” santiago laughed in response.

“y/n looks so happy when she is with you.”

“sí, bueno, i am always happy with her too. it’s because she loves me and i love her. we both had crushes on eachother and then when we started talking, we wanted to not have crushes and to make it into an actual relationship.”

“that was so long ago!”

“jajaja, sí, fue hace casi dos años.” (yes, it was almost two years ago.)

“what should i say to maría?”

“you are still very young, santi, but i think you should make a very nice friendship with maría. as you grow older, you will start to realise more about your feelings.” he raised his brows at him, and santi nodded.

“but for now, be a good little gentleman! be nice to her, stick up for her, be a good friend to her. she will start to like you too.”

“really?”

“sí, build a good friendship with her just like me and y/n. she is my girlfriend but she is also my bestfriend. whenever i want to talk or i need some support, i go to my bestfriend.”

“will you be her husband too, pedri?” santiago asked with a little smile on his face and pedri immediately started blushing a little.

“just between me and you, santi, i hope i am her husband one day.” he laughed.

“me too!! you will be my actual big brother!”

“one day. now, let’s quiet down because i see your sister coming.” he gestured him to be quiet with a finger to his lips and santi mirrored his actions with a giggle.

just then, y/n opened the door and got in with two bags full of food. santiago cheered to himself as she placed the bags on the seat next to him in the back.

“here’s your card.” she handed pedri his card back and he looked at her as if asking her if she used it.

“nope, i told you it’s on me.”

“y/n..”

“shhh.” she cupped his cheek, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his other cheek. she kissed him briefly before leaning back, “i’m starving, let’s go home.”

[magicalqueennightmare]

New Orleans

(Eventual) Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Your first day in New Orleans you quite literally run into a certain blonde who decides she wants to be friends. Who are you to argue?

How exactly had you decided on New Orleans again? Oh yeah, a new start. You needed it after the last few years. Maybe you could even find a legit job to help pass time between hunts.

You had the address of one of Garth's contacts that was willing to rent you a furnished apartment just outside the french quarter, no questions asked as long as she got her rent every month. You knew you'd need basics like bedding, towels and such so you decided to check in there first to get your keys and a full list of what you'd need then go shopping.

You were juggling a few bags, holding everything from sheets to a single serve coffee maker. You were already regretting moving somewhere that it made more sense to walk than to drive because the trunk of your nova would certainly come in handy. You needed to stop and grab something to eat considering you hadn't eaten since the diner you'd stopped at the night before.

You picked a cafe that looked interesting enough and had a small enough line. You ordered a simple sandwich and lemonade and had intentions of heading out to the patio to eat but when you pushed the door open to head out you ran full bodily into a blonde woman. “Oh crap! I am so sorry!” You reached out to try to steady her but she had a slight smile on her face “No harm done” her accent got your attention considering it wasn't the usual twang of Louisiana.

You felt the tattoo on your shoulder twinge a bit and studied the blonde for a moment but brushed it off “I promise to watch where I'm going from here on out” she nodded towards your bags “Tourist?” You shook your head “actually i just moved here” she extended her hand “I'm Rebekah Mikaelson” you had to catch yourself to make sure your expression didn't show your true reaction to her name.

Leave it to you to literally run into one of the original vampires. You'd heard they'd vacated New Orleans, was your information bad or had they just done a loop back? You shook her hand and told her your name. She cut her eyes down to where your lemonade had spilled all over the sidewalk “Allow me to buy you another drink? After all I'd hate to seem unwelcoming to someone new to town”

You felt the slight pull of compulsion and breathed a sigh of relief knowing the warding in your tattoo hadn't been a waste. She raised an eyebrow at you and it took everything you had to not let a nervous laugh out, you had no beef with her family and didn't need any.

“It's no problem” you assured her but she was already opening the door to the cafe and ushering you inside “Oh I insist. I have a feeling the two of us are going to become good friends” “Ok then” you agreed with a small smile. Why the hell had you picked New Orleans?

—----------

You sat across from Rebekah listening as she spoke of her family and their ties to the city you now resided in. After a moment she smiled again then leaned forward to where only you could hear what she said “I've got to ask though. What are you?”

Your eyes widened slightly “Excuse me?” Laughter bubbled out of her “When I told you my name you flinched, I couldn't compel you. You're not a vampire because there isn't a single ring on your finger. Werewolf is also no because you're sitting across from me. I'd wager witch but that doesn't seem to fit you either”

You swallowed hard but shrugged one shoulder “I'm someone who knows a little about a lot. There's a tattoo on my shoulder that's warded with every sigil seven different covens could get their hands on. I mean no harm to you or yours. I just needed a new place to live and a friend knew someone here who was willing to rent to someone with no proof of identity or job”

She nodded slowly “Are you a hunter?” You gave one sharp nod. Either she'd kill you here and now or get one of those brothers you'd heard so much about to take you out. You hadn't expected a smile to brighten her face “Delightful. We need to get together again sometime”

“Is that a request or a demand?” You asked and she shrugged one shoulder “It's an offer, just friendship. You're new to town, my family built this town. Besides there's some here that wouldn't take your word that you mean no harm and having one of us on your side could help” you held her gaze for a moment then motioned to her phone “Let me give you my number in that case”

By the time you got to your place you felt exhausted mentally and physically. How the hell had you ended up with one of the original vampires in your contact list?

You walked through your front door and dumped the bags on the floor. It was a small place. One of those open floors where the bed was about fifteen feet from the front door. A couch and a television was shoved into a corner as a living room of sorts. The kitchen consisted of a few counters and a tiny stove with a microwave installed over it. At least the bathroom was a decent size with a walk in shower and a stacked washer and dryer.

You needed to make the bed, put towels away and set up your coffee maker but all you wanted was a shower and to crash. One thing at a time.

The Originals

[64yrsold]

WINTERING 4. nightmare before christmas

twelve days of christmas writing prompts by @abiiors wintering masterlist previous (3)

“Hey,” Matty grunted, sitting across from me, all splayed out on the couch. The evening was heavy and he was stoned, trying to pull himself through another get-together with friends. I glanced at him, his lips stained wine-pink. He raised his eyebrows when he caught my attention, gesturing for me to sit beside him. I tucked my feet underneath me, curling deeper into the couch. I tried to listen, or eavesdrop, to friends around me, ignoring the side of my face burning from his stare.

“Hey,” he said again, under his breath. My head snapped to him when something hit my shoulder – a peanut he had thrown.

“What?” I spat, crossing my arms around myself tightly.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, opening his arms. I rolled my eyes. He patted his lap.

“Fuck off,” I whispered, “I don’t want to talk.”

“I want to talk,” he shrugged, buttoning and unbuttoning his sleeve. I sighed, rubbing at my forehead. When I looked up, he was plopping himself on the couch beside me. 

“You reek,” I frowned, and he turned to me, a sleepy smile on his face.

“You think?” he grinned, resting his chin on his palm. 

“Jessica is gonna be pissed,” I noted, “She’s trying to keep the home pure during her pregnancy.”

“Pure,” he slurred, “Pure shit party.”

“Don’t,” I said, steeling my face. I tried not to think of him, younger and with fewer greys, waltzing over to me, tipsy and blushing. Shit party, he had said, interlacing his fingers with mine. I sighed.

“What?” he giggled, “That line worked the first time.”

“Well,” I groaned, “I was very young when that line worked.”

“God,” he sighed, “It wasn’t that long ago.” He cracked a peanut between his fingers, making a mess on his black dress pants.

“Right,” I picked at my nail polish. Anything to avoid his soupy brown eyes, and how soft his hair looked. 

“Wanna go outside?” he smiled, poking at my knee with his knuckle. It felt like a knife.

“No, thank you.”

“C’mon,” he grumbled, dropping his voice low, “I saved you a joint.”

“Matty,” I scolded, then flushed pink. He grinned. “I don’t smoke.”

He coughed through a fit of laughter, “Just a cig, then?”

“Alright!” Jessica interrupted, “Everyone with something for the gift exchange, head into the living room!”

I blinked.

“You don’t have a gift,” Matty smiled.

“Maybe I need a bit of fresh air,” I grumbled, and got up, Matty following me like a puppy. The backyard was dark, deep, and crowded with evergreens. The air was sticky with fog, kissing my cheeks.

“You cold?” He asked, pushing the snow off a bench in a secluded area of the backyard.

“No,” I said, sitting on the bench. He sat beside me, warm shoulder against mine.

“You look cold,” he insisted, taking off his coat and putting it over my shoulders. My throat tightened as his scent covered me, and I banished the thought of sleeping with his tobacco and mint on my skin. 

“I’ll probably head home soon,” I managed, the cold air and wine making my head turn.

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, careful not to touch me, “Sure.”

“I have,” I shrugged, gesturing vaguely, “work.”

“On a Saturday?”

I sniffled as he lit the joint between his lips. He smiled from the corner of his mouth.

“Did you roll that?” I asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice deep from his throat full of smoke. 

I bit my cheek, “I can fucking tell.”

“Oh, Christ,” he groaned, throwing his head back, “Are you still on this?”

“It’s just,” I smirked, looking up at him, “I can do it so much better.”

He took another drag, “Yes, love.”

“Are you agreeing so we don’t fight,” I reached for the joint, which he put between my lips instead, “Or because I’m right?” He watched me intently as I inhaled, blowing smoke behind his back. I coughed when I breathed in again, making him laugh.

“You alright?” He covered his mouth with his hand, watching me splutter and gasp.

“This is why,” I wheezed, “I quit fucking smoking.”

He moved to rub my back, patting it gently as I calmed down. The joint went out in the corner of his mouth, his attention surrounding me as his hand stilled on my back.

“Better?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” he smiled, “You still mad at me?”

“Of course I’m still mad at you,” I shifted, his closeness making my heart beat out of rhythm.

“I hate it,” he murmured, “when you’re mad at me.”

“Then do something,” I whispered. “Do something to fix it, for once.”

“Like what?” He prodded.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Make it up to me. Show up.”

He hummed, “You mean I shouldn’t get on a plane and wait for you to forgive me?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes.

“I shouldn’t get drunk,” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, “And call you, and beg you to take me back?”

“No.” 

“Should I,” he smirked, “Storm out when you imply I can’t verbalize my feelings?”

“No,” I grumbled, “Obviously not.”

“Just checking,” he brushed his thumb over my cheek, “Hoping to get it right this time.”

“Oh, this time?” I raised my eyebrows. 

He nodded slowly. 

“You must be drunk,” I shook my head, “And high. And delusional.”

“I’m always drunk, high, and delusional,” he grinned, kissing my cheek. 

“I know,” I whispered, “So I’m going home.”

“Oh, please,” he pouted, “We were just getting somewhere.”

“Goodnight, Matty,” I stood, taking off his coat and tossing it onto his lap. I felt giddy walking home, my cheekbone warm where he had touched me. The sheets smelled like mint as I drifted to sleep.

-> next (5)

[titaniasfairy]

WILDEST DREAMS

CHAPTER ONE

series summary: you hate anakin skywalker. but can you resist him during your week-long tropical trip with him?

cw: fem!reader, anakin is a dick, bickering, seriously anakin sucks, enemies to lovers, fuckboy!anakin, forced proximity trope, only one bed trope, eventual smut

chapter summary: your friends have planned a week long trip to some tropical island. only you’re forced to stay in a room with the man you hate most, anakin skywalker.

an: hi y’all it’s bear 🐻!! this is my first series everrrr omg i’m so excited. i’m such a sucker for enemies to lovers so i thought i’d write some. i’m not sure how many chapters this will be please enjoy!!

wc: 1.5k

———

god you hated anakin skywalker. you hated his stupid guts.

you hated the way he’d be so nice and caring to every one in your friend group— except you, of course.

they’d be laughing about some story anakin told (that wasn’t even that funny) when you’d open your mouth, only to regret it when his judgmental gaze met yours. your smile would immediately fade and you’d refuse to speak for the rest of the night. but anakin was just fine, engaging in flirtatious banter with other girls at the bar.

did he have to be obvious with his intentions? such a man whore.

you hated how he was good at everything. always offering to fix things for your friends, never charging them anything because he’s so selfless.

but obviously when you called your friend to say your car was having issues , their immediate response was

‘just call anakin! he’s fixed my car plenty of times. i’m sure it wouldn’t be a bother to him!’

you really didn’t want to call anakin, but you figured that there was no other choice. you stood outside your car on the side of the busy street. the wind was blowing and it was getting colder as the sun went down.

maybe your friend was right. maybe if you just called anakin he’d look at your car and give you a ride home. it wouldn’t be a bother, right?

oh but how it would be. you called 3 time only to go to voicemail each time. after what seemed like forever, you got a response when a mutual friend asked him to answer you.

“hello? anakin?”

“what do you want?” he huffed out, already tired of you without you even saying a word.

“anakin my car’s broken down. do you think you could come check it out?”

it was like you could hear his eyes roll through the phone. he’s so damn childish. he answered after a few grunts.

“maybe. where’s it at?” his voice was hesitant, he obviously did not want to help you at all.

“over by scott street..”

“seriously? that’s on the other side of town, dude. no way i’m going out there.”

you could hear a lighter spark on the other line as anakin lit up a cigarette. another thing you hated about him, that nasty smoking habit.

“anakin please! i can’t afford to take it in right now and i’ve got no ride back home, everyone’s busy.”

you didn’t know why you begged so hard to get him to help you. honestly, you could’ve called a local shop to tow your car and get it looked at. for some reason you were drawn to him and his rudeness.

“whatever, but you’re paying me for this.” he took a drag from his cigarette, and you could hear him exhale through the phone.

“thank you so much oh my god i don’t know what i’d do without you! i’ll pay you whatever you want i pro-“

anakin hung up the phone.

your relationship did not improve after this occurrence. you thought that since you two “bonded” over the silence of the ride back to your place , or since he sent you a very cut and dry message saying that there was something wrong with your alternator, or since you paid him through venmo that you two would get along.

but alas, you were wrong. in fact this only made you hate him more. what did you ever do to him? it’s not like you’ve ever been rude to him or anything. in fact he’s the one that’s rude. you should be the one acting like him!

why do you even care so much? you don’t want his attention. you’d rather die than have those gorgeous ocean blue eyes stare at you from across the room.

he’s not even worth thinking about. anything that leaves his mouth is just mean and crude towards you. mouth. anakin’s mouth. those plump pink lips that wrap so perfectly around a cigarette-

that too! why would you ever want someone with a nasty smoking habit. you bet his lungs are tar black and gross. another reason that you shouldn’t care about anakin skywalker.

but you can’t help but get a little excited when your friends say that they’ve planned a big trip for their spring break— a lavish vacation to some tropical island.

of course all of your friends were bringing their respective partners, so you were stuck to room with anakin. you wish you could deny the thoughts that rushed into your head when you were told this. there’d be optimal space and two beds so there’d be no need to worry, you were told.

you packed accordingly: skimpy swimsuits, breathable dresses, short cut jean shorts. you secretly wonder how anakin will react to your outfits. you also pack a number of headache pills and hangover cures. lord knows how drunk you’ll be over there.

maybe you’d be drunk enough to forget your stupid crush on stupid anakin.

———

today you would leave for the airport with your friends. jason would pick you all up from your places to carpool to the airport in his jeep with his girlfriend.

but of course, plans changed and now amy and brad would ride themselves to the airport. since jason doesn’t need all that room they’d just take his girlfriend’s car! but they can only fit the two of them and their luggage.

in summary, anakin would be forced to drive himself to the airport, along with you. another decision that your friend had to beg him to make. were you really that annoying?

you had planned to leave at 5:30 am to get to the airport at 6:00, which gave you enough time to board at 7:00 and arrive on the island at 10:00. this was all discussed thoroughly in the travel group chat so everyone knew what to do.

but anakin apparently didn’t see it. he gets to your apartment at 6:00 and the two of you barely make it to the airport in time to board and take off.

the drive was miserable. anakin was absolutely not a morning person, who didn’t listen to anything you had to say. the moment you’d get out a word he’d turn up his obnoxiously loud music on his stereo.

it wouldn’t have been a moment with anakin without his constant complaining, either. you were told how you “ruined this trip” for him with you going. anakin said he was supposed to bring some girl with him but was told there was no room since you were coming along.

you were in no mood to bicker, so you just stayed silent until you reached the airport. now you’d only have to deal with the stress of tsa.

thankfully, once you boarded the plane everything went fine. you were seating next to an older couple who just renewed their vows, and other than the old man’s occasional snoring there really wasn’t an issue.

as the plane landed you noticed the beautiful scenery on the island. the pretty trees and clear blue waters under a cloudless sky made you excited for the week to come.

the itinerary jason’s girlfriend made said that you were to check in around 11:30 and hang around the resort area until 7:30 where your group would have a dinner on the beach.

the resort was absolutely stunning. with a perfect view to the beach, it was like you were in a castle by the sea. inside the lobby were beautiful marble statues and detailed artworks hung on every wall. how did your friends afford this?

after what felt like standing in line for hours in the check in line, you finally found yourself in front of the door to your room that you and anakin would share for the week. you entered the key and the door unlocked, leading you to a beautiful sunlit room with a window looking onto the water.

only this didn’t look like the room on the website. there was only one bed. well actually, there was a bed and a pullout couch but there was no way you would be sleeping on that. your back would probably ache for the whole trip and that is one thing you will not have.

you called the front desk and told them about the issue, only to be told that there was nothing they could do. the resort was too overcrowded when the booking was made and they had to switch you over into a smaller suite.

thankfully, anakin had not arrived yet so you placed your bags on the bed as a way to mark your territory. ‘first come first serve, skywalker.’ you thought.

you could only imagine what he was doing. maybe he got lost or something, the man couldn’t make his way out of a wet paper bag. or maybe he’s flirting with the front desk attendant. you could only pity the girls that fall in line with anakin.

with all the rush this morning and the exhausting flight, you decided to get a little rest for awhile. you close the curtains to give yourself some darkness and get in the queen-sized bed.

the bed was soft and extremely comfortable with fluffed pillows and breathable sheets. for a second you imagine what it’d be like to lay in bed with anakin, what’d it feel like to wake up next to him in the morning.

but that’s ridiculous. you have no reason to be with anakin, even though he definitely doesn’t want you in the first place. eventually, your thoughts subside and the sound of the waves outside calm you to sleep.

[chronicowboy]

this is a silly little ficlet inspired by and written for @danielsousa my beloved <3

When Buck pulls up outside Eddie's house, he turns the engine off. He shouldn't. There's no reason to really. He's just dropping Eddie off. Only Eddie makes no move to get out of the Jeep for the thirty seconds they idle in the driveway. He just stares at his front door like its a particularly difficult math equation he has no intention of solving. So, Buck turns the engine off.

The sudden silence is almost suffocating, the tension between them pulled taut from their night of trash talk that had veered further towards flirting the longer the night went on - the more chips Buck lost to Eddie at the poker table.

When Eddie looks at him, something calculating and pleading in his eyes, Buck's chest tightens in anticipation of what's to come.

"I think," Eddie tilts his head, narrows his eyes slightly, "you should walk me to the door."

"Okay," Buck says softly, his heart making up for all the beats it had missed after the lightning strike. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door, but Eddie's hand lands on his knee and aborts the movement into a twitch of fingers.

For a moment, they do nothing but stare down at the point of contact like its a disaster waiting to happen. Buck stares until he finds the courage to meet Eddie's eyes and finds him already looking back. He swallows thickly. Eddie retracts his hand. The absence of his touch burns like acid.

"I think I'm going to start dating again," Eddie murmurs into the darkness of the Jeep.

Buck doesn't remember what it felt like to fall off the top of the ladder, he doesn't remember the brief weightlessness or the snap of the slack line when he reached its end, he was already dead. But he thinks it must have felt something like this because his stomach floats for a beat before dropping like a hunk of lead.

"Oh, that's..." He inhales, holds, exhales. "Good for you, man."

Eddie's eyes flick over his face, desperate and searching, a little frantic about it. If Buck didn't know better, if he allowed himself to feel the heady intoxication of whatever it was they'd been doing all night, he'd think Eddie was begging him to object.

But then, he nods and climbs out of the Jeep.

It takes Buck a moment to remember he's supposed to walk him to the door. He staggers out onto the driveway on unsteady legs, the gravel like slick metal rungs under his feet, and drifts effortlessly to Eddie's side. Their shoulders bump just like always and then they're moving towards the door, the fifteen familiar yards stretching into a mile hike.

Eddie unlocks the door with careful movements, but he pauses halfway to the handle. He turns, takes a step towards Buck, stares.

Buck fights the urge to itch the fading scars on his shoulders, sparks of electricity tingling under his skin at the weight of Eddie's eyes on him.

"A-any ideas how you're gonna get back into dating?" Buck asks, just as desperate as Eddie's eyes had been.

"Not really," Eddie says evenly. "I know dating apps are a thing but..."

"Not your thing," Buck snorts. "I can just imagine you matching with a Hildy and throwing your phone at the wall."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Flash." Eddie shakes his head with a chuckle, looks back at Buck from under his eyelashes. Buck's breath catches deep in his chest. "I meant more because dating apps are like for hook-ups, right?"

"Some, not all," Buck says simply because he had not once considered their night would end like this, with Buck explaining the intricacies of modern dating to his... To Eddie.

"Its just difficult, you know?" Eddie sighs, falls back against the wall next to the door. "Attraction's always been difficult for me."

"Yeah?" Buck raises an eyebrow, half curiousity, half surprise.

"Its like..." He sighs, deep and heavy. "I don't know. With Shannon, we were friends first and then I started noticing her as more than that. And Ana was... Well," he grimaces, "I'm not entirely sure I was ever attracted to her." Eddie's eyes light up with something thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure the only person I've ever known I was attracted to is..." Eddie snaps his mouth shut suddenly, his gaze drifting over Buck's shoulder.

Buck nods. He doesn't know what it means.

There have been a hundred moments tonight, a hundred moments imbued with something intentional, a hundred moments that felt like the edge of something. This moment feels like the tip of the blade they're both balancing on.

"Sex complicates everything," Buck breathes, an echo of a long ago moment when the worst thing they'd been through together was the hour-long line at Santa's grotto filled with handsy moms and snotty children.

"Yeah," Eddie murmurs, eyes dropping to Buck's lips, just for a second. "Yeah, I guess it does." He stares once again, with those dark, desperate eyes. And then, "night, Buck."

Eddie slips through the front door, and the click of the lock has Buck losing his footing on the knife edge he's been abandoned on.

He should move, should climb into his Jeep and drive back to his loft. He should drink a glass of water, wash the night off him and get some rest. He should, should, should. But he's so fucking tired of doing what he thinks he should. For once, for once, he wants to do what he fucking wants.

And right now there's only one thing he wants.

Buck takes one step, two, three. He raises his fist to knock on the door just as it swings open.

And, stood there like every one of Buck's dreams come true, is a wild and warm-eyed Eddie.

They stare, Eddie glances down at Buck's lips, and they reach for each other as synchronised as they are in everything else. They collide, a tangle of lips and longing and teeth and desire and tongues and yearning, a culmination of a night of lingering looks and flighty touches, a crescendo to a five-year masterpiece of trust and intimacy.

Eddie pulls Buck into his home with hot, clinging hands. Buck follows, as he always does, like a moth to a flame.

Sex may complicate everything, but right then and there, there's nothing quite as simple as want.

[nyssaswitch]

Chapter 9

Marc’s POV

I was sitting on the couch when Gavi approached me all of a sudden.

“Marc I need to speak with you”.

“Sure thing”, I replied.

“Let’s go outside,” he said.

I followed him until we were standing in a corner of the garden.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the tension between you and Y/N” he says.

My heart starts thumping, oh shit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Bullshit, you’ve been following her around like a lapdog”. 

My hands start to grow clammy and I try to keep my voice from trembling as I say “you’ve got a problem with that?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do”.

I take a gulp of air before I respond “you don’t own her”.

“No, but I’m still her brother and it’s my job to protect her from scum like you”.

“Gavi calm down, I thought we were cool”.

“That’s before you started following my sister around.”

“I assure you, nothing happened between us”.

“You want me to believe that? Why’d it take you guys over an hour to pick up some pizzas?”

Shit, he got me there.

“As I said, there was a line”.

“Bullshit, I frequent that place often and there’s never a line. What are the odds that the one time you go there, with my sister, a massive line has formed out of nowhere?”

I grit my teeth and say “it’s not my problem that you’re impatient”.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me”.

Gavi’s face becomes taut and his eyes flare up.

I chuckle, this must be the infamous temper everyone’s always talking about.

“That’s right, you should know better than to mess with me”.

“I’m not messing with you, I was just trying to help”.

“Help my ass, help yourself to my sister you mean”.

“You can’t expect her to stay single forever”, I counter.

“It’s too early for a boyfriend”.

“Why don’t you let her decide?”

Gavi’s nostrils flare up, he takes a step forward and pricks his finger into my chest.

“What are your intentions with my sister?”

“Tell me”, he exclaims.

“I, we just get along really well”, I stammer.

“As friends?” He prods.

“Yes, as friends”.

“Then why are you always undressing her with your eyes?”, he asks in a low voice.

“I’ve done no such thing”.

“Don’t lie to me”.

“I’ve barely looked her way”.

Gavi throws his head back and laughs “I can practically see your thoughts, every time you look in Y/N’s direction”.

I gulp and take a step backwards.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m in love with Y/N, I really really like her, can’t you see that?”

“A little too much for my liking”, Gavi snorts.

“What do you want me to say?” I sigh.

“That you”ll keep you hands off of my sister and that you”ll keep your distance”.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’m gonna make your life a living hell”.

“Oh I’m so scared”.

“You better be”.

“Listen Gavi, I promise I won’t hurt her”, I say, while looking at him intently.

“You better not”.

“I swear on my grandmother’s grave”.

“Fine”, Gavi narrows his eyes, “but the second she comes crying to me, I”ll kill you”. “Comprende?”

“Yes”

“Good”

He makes a heel-face turn and storms off.

I let out a small breath and relax my hands that have balled into fists. 

[presleyhearted]

Little Black Dress | one-shot

・❥・Pairing: 70s!e x reader

・❥・Genre: a pinch of angst, fluff, mature themes, 70s!Elvis, shy reader, insecure reader, jealous Elvis.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MDNI.

・❥・WC: 5803 words

・❥・Summary: After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of the King of Rock 'n Roll himself.

・❥ A/N: Hi my beautiful followers! I apologise for not posting for a while, life happens and well, you'll soon find out that I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to writing. This is unlike any other I have written before, my first attempt in writing NSFW content. Please be gentle with me, aha. Anyways, I hope you all like it! 💋

@literally-just-elvis-fics

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“I think it’s too short,” You said, attempting to pull the dress down lower. 

“Girl, you look hot, don’t overthink it.” Your best friend, Annie, confidently replied in contrast to your self-doubt about your attire. 

Exactly a week ago, you managed to score some tickets to see Elvis Presley at the Las Vegas Hilton hotel. Even if the infamous singer has been playing numerous back-to-back shows at the infamous venue, the tickets remained challenging as ever to get a hold of. It seemed that even after the decade-long absence from the stage, his name never failed to lose its popularity and relevance. As a result, crowds upon crowds of people were lined up just outside the ballroom excitedly waiting to be let in. And for once, you and your best friend were one of them. 

You became an Elvis fan since you were a freshly-turned teenager, his charm and unique way of performing immediately captured your curosity.  Despite, of course, against your parents’ wishes. Like all the other parents in the country, they were determined in calling Elvis Presley “a rebellious boy” and how his scandalous movements are wrecking the minds of the youth. You laughed at that and simply ignored the “warning.” You were still fairly young back then, only really discovering him after he finished his military service. And so, ever since the start of teenagehood - you became a fan. 

Because here you are, all these years later and still an avid fan of him. Through the persuasive ways of your best friend, she has managed to convince you to finally wear the little black dress at the very back of your closet. You purchased it a while ago, with no specific intention on wearing it anywhere, as you didn’t perceive yourself as a wildly confident dresser. But as your best friend said, it seemed to be the perfect outfit to wear for your first Elvis Presley concenrt. 

And so, here you were. A tight little black dress that reached just a little above your mid thigh, paired with black boots and your hair in a half-updo. You thought it was basic and simple enough, but fitting enough for the event. But now, as you stood in the lobby - you began having second thoughts that the dress might be too short for the occasion. 

“Annie, does my underwear show through this?” You said, turning around, “I don’t want to be flashing anyone.” You worriedly say, knowing that the material of the dress is quite thin. 

Annie laughed, “You are absolutely fine, Y/N. “

You sighed in relief, “Ok, just double checking. “

“Besides, if you were to flash anyone, it’d be Elvis so-”

You gasped and hit her arm, “Annie! Oh my god, No!”

You shake your head horrified, face fully red in embarrassment at just the thought of such an incident. 

Annie simply smirked, “Why? It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You smile shyly, “Let’s just go before they close the doors.” You switch the subject immediately, keen to draw away from Annie teasing you. 

-

Excited chatter filled the ballroom, with not one single empty seat. You and your best friend were luckily seated only a few rows from the very front of the stage, but of course, found yourself rising from your seats and being as close to the front as possible. As close as possible to him. 

The moment you saw him appear on stage, it was surreal. He was one of the most photographed celebrities, but those photographs did not do him justice. It was true what others have said, how Elvis Presley’s looks were almost to the level of a greek god. A sharp jawline, beautiful tanned skin, high cheekbones, plump lips, and the most striking blue eyes that seem to pierce right through whoever he’s looking at. His black hair was messy, but fit him perfectly, falling over his eyes a little - with that boyish smile gleaming at everyone. It was such a stark contrast from the all clean-cut Ken doll throughout his Hollywood years. Even more so, his jumpsuit hugged his lean and tall figure, with the few buttons undone to reveal his chest. 

You were entranced. You spent your days endlessly playing his records in your bedroom at your parents house, and now more recently in your own apartment. But hearing him sing, right at this moment, in front of you - his talent never wavered. It astounds and shocks you at the same time, the familiarity of it and the newness of seeing him perform right in front of your eyes. He seemed to be more confident in his performing persona, knows how to command a stage and gone was the shy smile of his when he first started out. All throughout the concert, he would every now and again drop jokes and would constantly check if the audience is enjoying the show. 

It is almost the end now, and sweat trickles down his face and it doesn’t surprise you. The way that Elvis performs, it’s not a case of simply singing. No. It’s the vocals, along with his dances and karate movements mixed along that capture the eager-eyed audience. His immense energy surprises you, and you aren’t ashamed to admit that you are one of the girls in the audience screaming constantly in excitement. 

But then came the moment you’ve heard through hushed whispers, and that is how Elvis would kiss his fans at his concerts. You thought it was simply a rumour that spread like wildfire, as celebrity rumours do - but now you can definitely confirm it to be true. And that is because you are now on the receiving end of such a public display of affection. You barely registered the very brief encounter, but it happened. Elvis cupped your cheeks with his hands, and planted a brief soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away, but made sure to fixate his gaze on you with that smirk of his quirk in the corner of his lips. He was quick to be pulled into another kiss by another female audience member, but you were frozen. You touched your lips with your fingertips, the sensation still lingering as waves of bliss course through you. 

Of course, you were not naive to the fact that you are merely one of the many women that he would kiss that night. Afterall, the evidence was right in front of you - how Elvis walked away from the stage and made his way around, interacting with as many fans as possibe. This went on for a good while, before he returned to the stage and resumed performing a few more songs. 

After the final song, Elvis bids goodbye to the audience and gratefully thanks them before the curtains draw the show to a close. Your cheeks seem to be hurting, probably from all the smiling you’ve been doing so naturally. But you are back to reality now, the concert you’ve waited for what seems like your whole life - is now over. It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye, and you never fully understood that phrase when people say it - but you do now. Hours worth of performances were done in a single second it felt. 

But despite the shrinking feeling of dismay within you, the euphoric sensation coupled with pure adrenaline coursed fiercely through your veins. You linked arms with Annie, who herself shared the same expression - absolutely elated and sad it’s over. Everyone slowly dispersed the venue, excited chatters of memorable moments from the show filled the conversations. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Your best friend says, as she sighs while you are in the line of people exiting the venue. 

You shake your head, “Neither can I.”

“Well, now we can cross off two things from our bucket list.” Annie muses, as she smirks. 

“Finally going to an Elvis concert?” You ask, unsure of what the second one could be. 

“That and also kissing him.” Annie says, pure delight in her voice. 

You bite your bottom lip, unable to control a smile. 

“Gosh, did you see how that lady leaped over the tables just to get to him?” Annie asks, lowering her voice a little, “She’s my idol.”

You chuckle, “She definitely was determined.” 

“I’m surprised that his clothes didn’t rip to shreds, like back in the 50s?” Annie says, as you quickly recall the news articles of ‘rebellious Elvis’ performing and would often end with his clothes, quite literally - destroyed. There was a photograph of him walking backstage with no shirt on, and his pants that might as well be shorts. 

You shake your head, “Gosh, yeah. That was - people are strong, I’m telling you.” You chuckle. 

Annie nods and says, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Where do you want to go?”

You both were in the lobby of the hotel now, much of the crowd of people have exited the hotel and are most likely finding transportation to go home. 

Before you could even respond to the question, you hear a rush of footsteps that seem to be getting near you. 

“Excuse me!”

You both turn around and see a man who seems a little out of breath, “Hi, ladies. “ He offers a kind smile, and you instantly recognise him as part of Elvis Presley’s entourage. One of the men in his ‘Memphis Mafia.’ 

“I know you.” Annie furrows her eyebrows, seemingly taking longer to recognize the man. 

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I work for Elvis, and well he has invited you both  to his suite for dinner.” He says, as if it’s the most casual thing to say in the world. 

You freeze and exchange a look of shock with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stutter, not fully believing the words. 

“Us? He’s inviting us? To meet him?” Annie questions, tone in equal disbelief as you. 

Jerry nods, seemingly unfazed by your reactions. 

“Yes, that’s right.” He nods in certainty. 

You look at Annie again. 

“We’d love to!” Annie responds grinning excitedly, interrupting your thoughts from running into overthinking. 

As Jerry leads the way, Annie whispers to you, “Don’t overthink it, Y/N. This is once in a lifetime.”

On the way there, Jerry makes small talk with both of you. Just the usual case of introducing yourselves, how long you’ve been a fan and all that. All the while, trying to calm the fast thumping of your heart at the reality that not only will you be face to face with Elvis - but you’ll be talking to him. And also thinking about the wild thought that he has asked to meet you. 

There was not even one single point during the concert in which you’d thought he’d be fixated on you like that. 

-

You have been in his suite for an hour now, and overwhelmed is an understatement. The suite was filled with many other people; beautiful girls that could easily pass as models (perhaps they are), actors and actresses, and of course the Memphis Mafia. It still felt like an intimate affair though, with only around fifteen people in the room. You were sitting on the velvet couch, as you took gradual sips of your drink. Evidently, you were subtly people watching. Annie seemed to be caught up in a conversation with Jerry, as they both lingered near the pool table. Her laugh seemed endless, and you know from the look in her eyes and the gestures that she was definitely flirting with Jerry. 

You’ve met Elvis earlier, it was very briefly since he wanted to say hello to everyone. But in that split-second interaction, you cannot help but blush and stammer your name out as you introduce yourself. You were thankful that he was wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, as it decreased the chances of you absolutely making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush. Right now, he seems to be in conversation with a comedian and his laugh echoes. You cannot help but smile at the sound. 

Annie seems to be nowhere in sight, but so does Jerry and you can only make assumptions of what that may mean. You sighed and stood up, refilling your glass of wine as you leaned against the corner of the wall - people watching. You don’t go unnoticed though, as a member of the Memphis Mafia approaches you - Red West. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes refocus on the new face in front of you, he flashes a grin at you as he leaned the side of his body on the wall. 

You clear your throat, “Hi.”

“I’m Red.” He says, sticking his hand out. 

You shake it and kindly smile, “Nice to meet you, Red. I’m Y/N.” 

He repeats your name, an amused grin on his lips. 

“So, Y/N. . . avoiding humans then?” He jokes, as you are removed from all the conversations going on. Here you were, standing alone.

You chuckle, “Not exactly. I was part of the human chatter earlier.” 

Red nods with his arms crossed, “And now you’ve realised that humans are a pain in the ass.” 

You laugh, “I was going to say I just like people watching, but that too.” 

Red’s eyes flicker to your lips and you hardly notice it, completely oblivious that he is physically attracted to you. You yourself have never been experienced in the art of flirting nor romance, therefore you just deemed it to be a normal conversation. 

“Sounds like stalker territory, but okay.” Red says, dramatically putting his hands up.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “You’ve never heard of that term before?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“It just means someone who is an observer of life. You know, how Shakespeare says that thing about how movies are ideas from what humans are like in real life. People get ideas from people, by people watching.” You explain. 

Red steps a little closer to you, and this you notice. But you don’t react because the conversation has been harmless so far. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet then, that’s Shakespeare right?” Red says.

That’s not exactly what you were saying, and you are pretty sure he just ignored the rest of what you were trying to say. But you are also aware of how some men just don’t use whatever brain cell they have. So, you are not surprised at his question. 

You smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

“You are very smart, you know. Very pretty just like Juliet.” Red says, a glint in his eye as he smirks. 

You laugh unsure of what to say, “Thanks, I guess.”

And still, you are oblivious as ever with his flirtatious tone. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes gaze intently at you from across the room. Elvis has been socialising with everyone for an hour or so now, but in the corner of his eye he is still paying attention to you. Ever since his eyes met your face at the show earlier, he couldn’t help but immediately want to see you again. He has seen and been with many beautiful women in his life, the advantages of being who he is - the way women just flock to him without him even lifting a finger. But your beauty was not overdone, and your whole look was minimal. It was obvious that you were not dressed to impress, as they may say. You dressed as one would to attend a concert, but not with the intention of ever drawing his attention. Well, you did. But you had no idea. 

Of course, Elvis would invite a bunch of people to his suite for dinner after his shows. Aside from celebrity figures, Elvis would also invite people from the audience. Most of the fans invited immediately said yes, as you and Annie did as well. The hopeful women that clearly wanted and competed for Elvis’ undivided attention surrounded him, but his head snapped to you. You who was leaning so close to Red West, as you laughed in your fixated conversation with him. You both looked so in your own bubble, apart from everyone else. Apart from him. The women around him keep on talking, but Elvis is no longer listening. 

Elvis has thrown warnings to the MM before about his fans, if any of them were to try anything with any of the fans - he wouldn’t take it lightly. Of course, some fans that he would invite to his suite - Elvis had no intention of being intimate with. And so, Elvis wouldn't bat an eye if any of the MM were to flirt with them. 

But he clearly expressed his interest in you to the MM, and so rage fuelled his body at the sight of Red going against his words. Even worse, it looked like you were enjoying Red’s company with your cute laugh and  endless smile. 

Elvis has had enough. He excuses himself from the women around him and stands up, much to their dismay. But they quickly talk amongst themselves. Elvis strides over to you and Red, he takes his sunglasses off and folds it confidently - holding it in his hands. 

“Red.” One word and Red freezes. He turns around and there is Elvis with his jaw tightened and a tight smile on his lips. 

“Boss.”

“Heard you both laughing all the way there, wondered what the joke is.” Elvis says, though the intensity in his eyes mentally burning holds into Red’s head. 

You, of course, were frozen that Elvis decided to show up all of the sudden. Still not used to his effortless charm and handsome smile of his. 

“Um, i-it was n-nothing. “ You stutter, mentally hitting yourself at the sudden timidity of your voice. 

Elvis eyes are on you but he quickly looks back at Red, who seemed to have gotten more nervous than ever. He is scratching the back of his neck and is no longer leaning against the wall, but straightening his posture. 

“Honey, I doubt it. What do ya say, Red?” He says. 

Red immediately gets the hint and realises that he has fucked up. Here he was blatantly flirting with you, right in Elvis’ line of sight. 

“I’m saying. . .  I uh, Charlie needs my help on something. I better go.” He says, quickly excusing himself and briefly looking back at you. You frown, confused as his sudden change of mood. 

Elvis sighs and pats him on the back, “Good idea, man.”

“Bye, it was nice to meet you!” You call out and he shoots you a small smile before vanishing somewhere else. 

“You enjoying yourself, honey?” Elvis asks, the southern drawl so apparent in his tone. He casually takes the spot that Red was standing in, but Elvis is closer and he is leaning against the wall. 

You attempt to make eye contact with him, but his gaze is intense. Even more so without his sunglasses on. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks for , um, inviting me.” You say, twirling the empty glass of wine in your hands nervously. 

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” He asks.

“You remember my name.” You say before you can stop yourself. 

Elvis chuckles amusedly, “Why wouldn’t I? Miss Little Black Dress.”  He says, shamelessly trailing his gaze from your long legs up to the gaze in your eyes. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Not the most creative choice, I know.” You smile at him, trying to make yourself relax and appear more confident. 

Elvis shakes his head at your comment, “You look good, honey. Don’t count yourself out.” 

Although he has probably complimented many women, his words still make you naturally blush. You can’t help but look away and nervously say, “Thanks.”

The one chance that Elvis Presley is having a conversation to you and to you alone, and you are looking away? You mentally hit yourself and try to push out the shyness that seems to have taken over you since the start of this conversation. With Red, it was easy conversation, you weren’t rethinking each word that left your mouth. But he wasn’t Elvis. He wasn’t the celebrity crush that you’ve endlessly devoted yourself over for the past eleven years. Elvis found you adorably amusing, clearly hyper aware of the effect he has on you. 

You muster some courage of confidence and attempt to meet his eyes again, as you clear your throat. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask. 

“Hmm?”

“Uh. . you said about being honest with me about something?” You explain, redirecting the topic of conversation. 

He snaps his fingers and chuckles, “Ah! Right. I, well, would you like to get out of here?” He asks, his hand lightly brushing your hand but not quite intertwining your fingers. 

You freeze, not being able to maintain the shock with your eyes. Although you were practically oblivious when a guy was flirting with you, the naivety did not extend to words such as the ones that Elvis just let go. You knew what he was implying, and you were quite certain that he was hinting to sleeping with you. But this is when you drew the line. Sure, it was nice to talk to your idol, but crossing over to that territory? You don’t think you are sure of yourself. Besides, you haven’t even crossed territory like that with any guy. 

“I-”

He interrupts you, as if reading your mind. 

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise. I just figured it’s easier to get to know each other without all this noise.” He explains, voice soft. 

Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind at that very moment. 

‘Live a little, Y/N. When an opportunity presents itself, just jump. As long as it’s not harmful. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ 

You hesitate, unable to form words. 

Before you could even register what is happening, you find yourself smiling at Elvis and agreeing to his offer, “Okay.”

-

It has been a while now since Elvis whisked you away from all the ‘noise’ as he described it. You were sure that your heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear, as he placed his arm lightly around your waist. You were now in his room, and it was as luxurious as you’d expect it to be - the interior exactly what you imagined his taste would be. You were unsure at first on what to do, as you stood there. But luckily, Elvis was careful and noticed your nervous energy - he offered you to take a seat at the very edge of his bed. 

“How old are you, darlin?” He questions, as he faces you fully. 

“Twenty-four.” You say, and your mind immediately runs wild at what he must think of you now. 

Here you were, at the adult age of twenty-four and yet your life experiences seemed to not suit that description of such an age. You struggled to even hold a conversation with Elvis without stuttering or looking overly timid. In this stage of a woman's life, aren’t they supposed to be confident in their desires and advances? Romantic and sexual experiences should be vast by now, right? That’s what you believed, and yet - here you were. An anomaly within that belief. Your shy nature upon initial conversation with him, made Elvis conclude that you were a precious jewel out of the many. But your naivety to such things made you embarrassed, as someone with overflowing sex appeal had his undivided attention on you. 

Oh shit. He’ll probably ask something and that’s that. He’ll find out how embarrassingly inexperienced I am, and I’ll have to make a run from it. That is humiliating. 

You thought to yourself. Although you cannot be one-hundred percent sure that the conversation would lead to that, you know in yourself there is a pretty solid chance that it will. After all, the environment you are in just screams it. Here you were, literally sitting on his bed, the door is closed and it ‘s just the two of you. Besides, you’ve heard the rumours - about his sexual appetite. Afterall, he was this rock ‘n roll singer who practically had women fawning all over him. Logically speaking, he had to do something with that adrenaline after walking off stage - right?

You were getting ahead of yourself again, your thoughts running rampant and Elvis clearly noticed this. He delicately placed his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern swimming in his blue eyes. 

You shake your head, “N-Nothing. I, um. . .”

“I meant what I said,  I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He says, placing his hand over yours as he squeezes it reassuringly. 

You sighed and nodded, trying to calm your nerves down. 

“Do you read?” Elvis asks suddenly. 

“I used to a lot, but not anymore.” You reply, managing to form a normal sentence without stuttering. You tilt your head in confusion as Elvis gets up, but shortly returns back to his spot next to you with a book in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, his genuine curiosity took you aback a little. 

You shrugged, “Life became busy and I don’t know, I eventually lost interest I guess.” 

You look at the title of the book that he’s holding, “The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner.” 

Upon reading the title of the unknown book, Elvis delves into revealing that he is an avid reader and brings a suitcase full of books whenever he’s on the road. Surprise would be an understatement, you admitted to him that you never expected him to be a reader. As the conversation grows, you find yourself relaxing and all the nervous energy vanishes from you. You thought that when Elvis said that he wanted to get to know you, it was simply just a phrase. But he truly did evidently show that he was interested in what you had to say, you felt flattered. You would answer his questions, but then he would ask another one based on the answer you just gave him. And you knew that he was listening to you, as he stared intently and would nod encouragingly at you to continue. 

Initially stepping into the room, there was no clock in sight. You wished that you had your watch on, it would’ve helped to know what time it was. It felt like you’ve been talking to each other for a while now, you presume it has been hours. And yet, Elvis was true to his word - he hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. 

You were in the middle of explaining to him the meaning behind your name, but you stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling. Am I boring you?” You smile at him apologetically. 

Elvis grins amusedly at you and shook his head, “The opposite, honey.” 

He nods at your black boots, “Interesting choice.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, well, wearing heels makes my feet hurt. I mean, I have worn heels before because on some occasions, you just have to. But my black boots are my go-to, and coincidentally enough-”

You are looking down at your black boots, but stop yourself from continuing your sentence because you feel his focus has shifted. In the corner of your eye, you feel the heat of his gaze and this makes you naturally turn your head to face him. The pair of blue eyes flickered between your eyes, and your lips. Elvis sighed and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to lean in. All the while when you were talking, his mind kept directing him to stare at those lips of yours. So perfectly pink and inviting. But he held himself back, and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

It was only this, in this moment did you realise how close together your bodies were. Your thighs were pressed up against each other and literally no space between you. It was silent for a while. You found yourself studying his face, and you still cannot believe how perfect he looks. It was so unlike the beauty of any other human being, you thought. You found yourself tracing his features with your finger, lastly touching his plump lips. Your motions were slow, and agonsing it seemed as Elvis' breathing increased. All the while you maintained your eye contact with him in good control. His eyes held pure fascination with your actions, a stark contrast from your shy nature. Your touch was delicate and careful, but he can tell that there is something more wanting to break out from you. 

It was in this very moment that you felt a hot sensation within you. You have hardly done anything, and Elvis is already feeling that familiar ache. His eyes intensified, as his tongue wetted his lips. 

Annie’s words echo through your brain again.

“I want to kiss you,” You finally admit, voice delicate but strong. You have never been this forward with a guy before, and so the words that leave your mouth surprise you.

“You don’t have to ask.”  He says, his tone of voice low.

You circle your arms around his neck, and finally - your lips meet his. The melding of your lips together, causes Elvis to let out a groan. The sound sparks the sensation in your lower body. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but you felt yourself wanting more. An unfamiliar determination takes over you, as your hands thread through his hair - pulling it tightly. Elvis welcomes the pain, and tightly secures an arm around your waist - his touch searingingly  hot through your little black dress. The kiss is far from slow, as you both grow in need. His other hand grips your cheek as he deepens the kiss, recapturing your lips again, as he bites into your bottom lip. You let out a gasp, and swipe your tongue on his lips. The sweet sound of your gasps spurs something darker within Elvis, he needs more. But he can’t be selfish, and so he pulls back from the blissful touches.

Elvis is breathing hard, and you do too. Both trying to catch your breaths, as you try to comprehend what you just did. But a smile pulls on your lips, as does his. 

“Y/N, if we continue. . . I-I don’t think I can stop.” He warns, and your heart beats at how careful and honest he is. Staying true to his word. 

You lean forward once again and whisper, as you look him right in the eye, “Then don’t.” 

You gulp at the words you just let go, unaware where you found this confidence from. But you keep it going, not knowing when you’ll shrink back into your timid nature. 

Elvis’ movements are fast, as your lips meet together for the second time. This time, the kiss is not gentle anymore. It is filled with hunger and pure desire, a kiss that feels like the dichotomy of scorching desert sun and the icy glaciers that are surrounded by the Southern Ocean. A kiss that both felt like a crashing wave of relief, and an invisible rope tightly binding you and Elvis together. Your hands travelled through his back, his neck and his hair. Elvis’ hand trailed up your thigh and you felt your heart beating faster, as he slid the ends of your dress higher and higher. His other supported the back of your neck, as you naturally arched your back - displaying your neck invitingly to him. 

Elvis left a trail of strong kisses to your neck, “You have such soft skin, honey.” He hums, and you feel his teeth tug lightly at the skin of your neck. You moan at the feeling, knowing that you’ll have to find a way later on to hide the inevitable hickies that’ll be marked on your skin. You feel Elvis smirk at the sound, and this only encourages him to add more to the ones already forming prominently on your skin. 

“Elvis, I-I” You gasped. 

He pulls away, you frown confused at abruptly stopping his actions. Elvis finds this cute and chuckles at your expression, “Let’s take these off.” He removes both of your boots, and winks at you. 

He pulls you back into a kiss, and naturally brings you to his lap with your legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. Elvis groans at the contact of your thin underwear on his crotch, in this new position. His hand on the back of your neck finds its way to grip the butterfly clip that holds your hair together, he removes it letting your hair fall down and rest on your shoulders. 

Elvis looks at you in awe, “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heat up, only adding to the warmth that fiercely courses through your body. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the little black dress.” He says, and you feel breathless. 

“Oh do you now, Mr. Presley?” You muse, tilting your head at him as you bite your lip. 

Elvis places both of his hands on the ends of your dress and attempts to remove it smoothly, but grows frustrated at the strength of the material and you suddenly hear a sharp sound of tearing. Elvis pays it no mind and lets it fall to the floor. 

You laugh and shake your head at his frustration. Elvis laughs along with you and leaves kisses at the side of your face, as  you glance at the torn material on his velvet carpet. 

“But it’s time to say goodbye to it.” Elvis smirks. 

He flips you both over, so your back is on the soft sheets of the bed as he presses his body against you. Both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You help him rid of his clothing, admiring in awe at his bare chest. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” He assures you, implying to the ripped up dress. 

“I have a better idea,” You say, tone sultry. 

Elvis smirks, his fingers circling your breasts, as his thumbs graze your perked nipples in repeated motions. You moan at the action, arching your back. At the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Elvis wishes to have the sight before him captured into his mind forever.

“Hmm? And what would that be?” His deep voice, sending you into limitless bliss.

You reach your hand out and grip the necklace dangling from his neck, using it as a way to pull his face towards you, as you clash your lips together and you feel him smirk through the kiss. He detaches himself from your lips, and descends down to kiss your jaw, your skin and now your chest. He is quick enveloping the hardened buds, wetting them with his tongue, as he repeats the action to your other breast. Your mind is in a frenzy, feeling your toes curl at the pure euphoria as you moan. 

Thank goodness for the Little Black Dress, you thought.