#we don't?? expect brilliance?? the first day??

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Four- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, TomRiddle, weaponizing!Tom (slightly?), Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Outstanding, naturally," you said, your voice laced with confidence and your grin so wide it seemed to stretch beyond the boundaries of your face. "Must you even ask?"

The morning sunlight filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the room as you and your friends gathered for breakfast. Emily, your blonde-haired friend that you've known since your very first day here, couldn't help but to snicker at your bluntness, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

It’d been almost two weeks since you’d last met with Mattheo, since there was no tutor session last week due to your exam in Advanced Magical Studies. Admittedly, you were thankful for the break.

"Is there any subject where you don't get perfect  grades?" Your other friend Michael said, widened eyes glancing at your marked exam in your hands. "You're a natural born Ravenclaw prodigy...I don't know how you do it, I simply can't wrap my head around it."

Emily, in between bites, nodded vigorously, her admiration evident. "It's true, you seem to effortlessly ace every bloody class. Meanwhile, I'm literally up to my neck in notes, struggling away in hopes of achieving a Meets Expectations."

"Come on, Emily," you said, sitting up a bit taller in your seat. "You earned an Outstanding on the exam too. Your intelligence and dedication are remarkable. You give yourself far too little credit."

She shrugged, taking a moment to chew her food thoughtfully. "Maybe," she conceded, her eyes briefly meeting yours. "But your brilliance seems innate, effortless. It's both inspiring and, I must admit, a tad infuriating."

The corners of her lips twitched into a half-smile, acknowledging the mix of admiration and friendly jealousy in her words. You couldn't help but to blush at her compliments, feeling proud of just how much your intense studies over the years have paid off. Your friends know just how much of your life you've dedicated to your education, and that by this point--after grinding away for years and years, the knowledge was just seamless to you. It just came naturally.

"Good morning, my dear students," came a gentle yet resonant voice from directly behind you, shattering the comfortable silence. "And how might you find yourselves on this delightful, sun-filled morning?"

As you turned, you were met with the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore, his warm presence enveloping the room with ease.

You rose from your seat, your hands clasped together in front of you. "Good morning, Professor; it's always a pleasure to see you. I'm wonderful, how about yourself?"

Your friends gave similar responses, each earning an attentive nod.

"Very good, very good," Dumbledore's voice resonated warmly, his eyes crinkling with a kind smile. "Thank you all."

His gaze shifted to you, a mix of gentleness and concern in his eyes. "I would be grateful for a moment of your time in my office, if you could spare it. It concerns your peer tutoring sessions. Would you be able to join me before the day's lessons commence?”

A sickening twist gripped your stomach, causing your once radiant smile to shatter into fragments. You battled to shield your fear, but it threatened to consume you--every horrifying possibility flooding your mind in a torrent.

Your eyes were drawn involuntarily across the room, zeroing in on the Slytherin table, only to find the devil himself, Mattheo Riddle, the harbinger of your academic ruin--was already fucking staring, smug arrogance practically radiating off of him as he relished your clear discomfort. His calculating gaze felt like a vulture circling its prey, keenly observing every nuance of your nervous demeanour--and you were certain you were about to collapse to the floor. 

Snapping yourself from your trance, you returned your eyes to your Professor, mustering up the best fake smile you possibly could. "Absolutely, Professor--it's no trouble at all."

"Wonderful," he smiled, nodding. "Shall we?"

With a subtle nod, he gracefully guided you out of the Great Hall, your fingers tightly clutching the strap of your bag after bidding your friends goodbye. Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation tightening its grip on your every nerve. You trailed closely behind Dumbledore, the echo of your footsteps blending with the murmur of distant conversations.

As you approached the Hall's exit, Dumbledore's movements came to an abrupt halt. He spun around with a swift grace, his piercing eyes sweeping across the tables like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog, searching for someone specific amidst the bustling sea of students.

And when his searching gaze finally landed on the person he sought, he outstretched his arm, a subtle wave beckoning them to follow. Your eyes widened in complete horror as Riddle stood up, tossing his bag over his shoulder with an air of arrogant nonchalance. Slowly, he began making his way toward you, his every step seemingly echoing off the walls of your mind.

The lot of you moved briskly, following Dumbledore to his office, Mattheo not deigning to acknowledge your existence except for the few brief, unsettling glances he kept throwing your way, a knowing smirk plastered across his face, practically casting a shadow of impending doom over your academic future.

As you entered Dumbledore's office, your heart continued to race with fear, the heavy weight of impending disaster hanging over you like a storm cloud. Dumbledore gestured for you and Riddle to sit down, the creaking of the chairs adding to the palpable tension in the room. You could hardly bear to look at Riddle, certain that his presence here meant he had failed the exam. Your post-graduate career seemed destined to crumble before it even began.

Your mind spun with catastrophic thoughts, the urge to throw up from nerves clawing at your throat. Just as you prepared yourself for the devastating news, Dumbledore's voice cut through the suffocating silence like a lifeline.

"Well, I must be frank, and I hope you won't take offense, Mister Riddle," his tone was incisive, his words carrying a weight of honesty. "I didn't harbor high hopes for substantial improvement in your academic pursuits when you commenced this new tutoring arrangement. Considering your history and the difficulty you faced in finding a suitable mentor, my expectations were rather restrained."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning, nerves screaming in fear as Dumbledore spoke. His gaze was penetrating, his words hanging heavily in the air. He straightened in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"However, it is entirely safe to say that I was beyond pleased when I found out that you had achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations,' on your recent exam--which, if I may point out, is your highest grade thus far."

Your mind reeled, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. Dumbledore's words echoed in your ears, and your jaw dropped in utter shock.

"Exceeds expectations," you repeated, your eyes wider than the sun and just as blaring. "Exceeds expectations! Mattheo, that's amazing!"

When you glanced at Mattheo, his eyes practically glimmered with a peculiar mix of pride and smug arrogance. His confident smirk persisted, etched on his features as he reclined casually in the chair beside you, choosing to remain silent; but you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval as he continued. "Your efforts in guiding Mister Riddle have not only benefited him but also showcased your exceptional skills as a tutor. It's a rare talent to break through someone's barriers, especially someone as formidable as he...I encourage both of you to continue this fruitful collaboration, nurturing each other's potential to the fullest."

You were gleaming. Screaming. On the verge of tears. This felt like a miracle, like music to your ears. The surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm you; you wanted to run until your legs gave out, to kiss Mattheo's stupidly infuriating face until it was raw. This was all you had ever wanted, more than anything else in the world.

"Thank you so much Professor," you beamed, your voice filled with excitement. "Your encouragement means more to me than you could ever begin to imagine."

"No, thank you, dear," Dumbledore said, a benevolent smile gracing his features. "Oh, and since I have you here, I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in joining the Hogwarts Mentorship Guild. Currently, it's coincidentally being overseen by Mister Riddle's brother, Tom...I do believe it would be an immensely beneficial experience for you. It's quite selective, but with my personal recommendation, your entry would be assured. You'd have weekly meetings with Tom and the other members-"

Every word that fell from Dumbledore's lips ignited an exhilarating flutter in your chest, a surge of excitement threatening to crack your ribcage open and pierce through your heart. The prospect of joining the prestigious club had been a cherished dream for years, and now, the reality of it was overwhelming. You basked in the euphoria, savoring the moment, until Mattheo's voice abruptly shattered the joy that had filled your soul.

"Professor, if I may," Mattheo spoke up, his tone surprisingly earnest as he straightened in his chair; his jaw tensed and his eyes dark. "I was actually wondering if she could tutor me in Potions as well...I could definitely use the help...it's been rough, to say the least."

His request hung in the air, creating a pause charged with unexpected tension. The elation that had filled you moments ago now mingled with apprehension as Dumbledores gaze darted between the two of you, his demeanour shifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"That would be up to her, Mister Riddle...I would imagine you'd struggle with doing all three, my dear witch...how about you think on it, and get back to me in a weeks time with what you'd prefer to do, yes?"

With anger simmering beneath your skin, you nodded and mustered a fake smile as you stood up. You extended your hand, shaking Dumbledore's firmly, concealing the turmoil within you. After exchanging polite goodbyes, assuring him of your prompt response, you spun on your heels with a sense of urgency that left Mattheo in your dust. Ignoring his calls that faded into the distance, you marched toward your dorm room, determined to shut out the world and the infuriating presence of Mattheo Riddle.

Right now, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him--nothing at all. But of course, he wasn't having that.

The heavy, urgent pounding on your door reverberated through the room, rattling your bones and intensifying your annoyance. Mattheo's relentless assault on the door seemed never-ending, refusing to halt for even a moment. Fearing the spectacle he might create in the hallway and the questions it would spark among your peers, you reluctantly decided to put an end to the commotion.

With a surge of anger-fueled determination, you swung the door open, gripping a fistful of his tie between your infuriated fingers as you pulled him inside. The door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing your frustration, and you kept your grasp on his tie, shoving his back up against the wood of your door.

"Potions?" you hissed, your voice laced with seething anger as you pressed against him. "In the name of the four fucking founders, Riddle, potions?"

He blinked, clearly startled by the intensity of your rage. "What-"

"You're about to shatter one of my lifelong dreams just because you can't handle a cauldron and some bloody ingredients?" you spat through gritted teeth, eyes burning with fury. "Are you genuinely that hopelessly inept?"

Your response was met with a suffocating silence, his lips parting as if searching for words that never materialized. His jaw clenched, his eyes darting away briefly, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. The weight of his silence only fueled the blaze of your anger.

"Haven't you taken enough from me?" you hissed, the emotion in your tone nearly tangible. "Haven't you wreaked sufficient havoc on my life?"

Mattheo's eyes darkened, his irises smoldering with unspoken fury as he silently wrestled with his words. His fists clenched at his sides, the intensity of his emotions evident, yet the silence persisted. You could practically feel the weight of his suppressed anger hanging heavily in the air.

"You really have nothing to fucking say, do you?" you spat, your voice sharp with disappointment. "The arrogant Slytherin prince, always ready with a cutting remark, suddenly struck dumb when he's called out...how utterly predictable."

You scoffed, your frustration mounting as his inability to respond only fueled the fire of your own indignation.

"You're unbelievable." You said, finally releasing his tie and spinning away from him, moving across the room with deliberate pace before you spun back around, meeting his dark eyes from against the opposite wall. "I'm happy that your grades are improving under my guidance but I think you'll have to find someone else to tutor you in potions...I'm sorry, Mattheo."

Riddle blinked, stepping forward. "I don't need help in potions."

You paused. You weren't sure if you'd even heard him correctly. "What?"

"I don't need help in potions." He repeated, taking another step.

"You don't-" your brows pinched, your words falling short as Mattheo veered closer. "But you-"

"My grades are bad, yeah," he said, voice low and hoarse. "But I'm not failing. And I certainly don't need a tutor."

Your chest constricted. You weren't following him. "Then why? Why'd you say that to Dumbledore?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw locking with tension. Swallowing hard, his throat worked as he landed himself roughly an arms length away from you, his eyes darker than the midnight sky and twice as intense.

"Because," he said, taking a singular step closer. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

His words slammed your chest so hard you almost fell over. "Excuse me?"

"My brother," he said, his tone flat and unwavering. "I don't want you anywhere fucking near my brother."

Your jaw dropped, the air catching in your lungs. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you, each one sparking a fire in your core that you desperately wished to ignore. Your head spun, torn between the lingering anger and the new surge of shock and disbelief at his words.

"You're not serious..." you spat, peering up at him as he loomed over you, hastily taking a step back to create some distance between you. "Riddle, please tell me you're fucking joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he replied, his expression carved from stone, taking another step closer and erasing the space you had just tried to create. "Huh, Raven? Do I?"

Anger swelled inside you, clouding your vision. "You've lost your fucking mind," you said, your voice dropping so low you weren't even sure if he'd heard you. "You're being controlling, Mattheo. That's...you can't just..."

Mattheo tilted his head, backing you up against the wall, a predatory glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "I can't, what?"

Your throat went dry, his hands pressing against the wood on either side of your head. "You can't just-"

Your words were cut short as Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "Can't what, Raven?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Go on, spit it out."

Gods, curse him. Curse him to bloody hell.

"You can't just control my life like you own it, Mattheo," you whispered against his lips, ignoring the fiery desire that flared within you, something you fought fiercely to suppress. "Outside of that classroom, you don't hold any power over me."

Mattheo's lips curled into a sly, taunting smile, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Oh, Raven," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper, "you have no idea how wrong you are...inside that classroom or out, you're mine to control...I believe I've proven that today--you'd have never gotten the offer to join that fucking club if it wasn't for my improved grades."

You scowled, your back pressing firmly against the wall as his lips trailed down to your jawline. Frustration mingled with desire, a dangerous combination that sent your senses reeling.

You cursed yourself inwardly, loathing the way your resolve seemed to crumble under his touch. Why did a boy this bad have to look so fucking sweet? Why did a boy this bad for you have to taste so fucking good?

"No...you're wrong, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling, trying to inject conviction into your words despite the turmoil inside you. "You're so fucking wrong."

"Am I, Raven?" He teased, his voice smug, one hand shifting to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "So you're saying, that if I told you to get on your knees for me, right now in the middle of your dorm room like my good little whore, you wouldn't do it?" His lips grazed your ear, your lids fluttering involuntarily. "Or...if I told you to take off your shirt so I could cum all over those beautiful fucking tits of yours, you'd say no...hm?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his touch and words igniting a fierce battle within you. As much as you knew the next words form your lips were an entire fucking lie, you simply couldn't help yourself. Merlin knows your body and mind were betraying you, all you had left was your mouth--which was never known to go down without a fight.

"That's right, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the tremor in your resolve. "I'd say no...one million times over I'd say no..."

Mattheo groaned, the noise reverberating down your spine as he breathed it directly into your eardrum. Your thighs screamed in need at the sound--your stomach flipping as his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

"And if I asked you to kiss me?" He murmured, his intense gaze locking onto yours. "Would you still say no then?"

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it. "I...I would..."

"Yeah?" He said, his voice a sultry whisper, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. "You sure about that, Raven?"

Your lungs sputtered, trying your best to keep your composure as you nodded, glimpsing his lips now. "I'm sure, Mattheo..."

His nails dug into your neck, every inch of your body ablaze as your gaze darted between his dark, intoxicated eyes and his plush, inviting lips. You cursed yourself, the internal struggle fierce and unrelenting. You cursed yourself so intensely, you could almost taste the bitterness of your own self-reproach.

"Mm." He hummed, grazing his lips over yours with feather like precision, before he pulled back. "And what would I have to do to change your mind, huh? Do you want me to fucking beg, princess?"

A low, desperate sound escaped your lips, a primal mewl reverberating in your chest. "That might help..." you breathed. "Maybe if you got on your knees while you did, it'd be far more effective..."

"Fuck...I've created a monster, haven't I..." he huffed, smirk teasing his perfect fucking lips, both hands falling to your hips as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. "A beautiful, slutty little monster..."

You were speechless, body blazed with desire, torn between the intense pull in his eyes and the irresistible temptation of his lips. Holy fucking hell you wanted to kiss him so unbelievably bad, you weren't sure how much longer you could continue playing this little game; the desire only strengthening as he ran his hands along your curves, rough palms smoothing down your thighs as he peered up at you--chocolate curls sitting messy over his forehead, his dark eyes burning wounds into your flesh.

"Kiss me, Raven..." he whispered, holding your sight, voice strained weigh desire so intense it was palpable. "Please, fucking kiss me."

That did it. That absolutely did it.

Without a second thought, you bent at the waist, seizing his tie and directing his mouth to yours, your lips crashing onto his in a feverish, desperate kiss. At the passionate connection, a low moan slid past your teeth, your fingers entwining in his hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue sought entrance, and you willingly granted it, eliciting a low, primal growl from him. His hands tightened around the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place, not daring to move an inch higher.

Mattheo nipped your bottom lip, smirking as he tugged on it gently before releasing it, blinking as he met your eyes. "I love the way you moan for me, Raven..." he purred, hands slowly moving up, slipping under your skirt. "You have no idea what I could fucking do to you."

You whimpered as his hands slid higher, gripping your ass under your skirt, his face dangerously close to your sex. Your fingers curled tightly into his hair, gripping the strands within your palms as your entire body quivered. His lips left a trail of hot, fervent kisses along your outer thigh, igniting a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Gods..." you moaned, unable to form any other coherent word as his hands explored and caressed places on your body that no one else had ever touched before. "Mattheo..."

"Fucking hell..." he groaned, his grip tightening. "If you do that again I might not be able to stop myself Raven...I might have to rip this fucking skirt off and make you moan my name over and over until it's the only word you remember..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning in a whirlpool of desire at his words. Every fiber of your being trembled, quivering under his touch. Mattheo pulled himself up to his feet, his hands still firmly gripping your ass as he pressed himself against you, the strength of his grip pulling your crotch against his. Even through the fabric of his trousers, you could feel his aggressive erection pressing against you.

Involuntarily, you moaned again.

"Mhm, that’s right...” Mattheo hummed, wet lips grazing your ear. "…and you say I don't have control over you..." he purred, licking a slow line up the side of your throat. "You're fucking melting for me and I've barely touched you, Raven..."

His mention of control snapped you back to your senses, not wanting your earlier anger to be neutered so easily, despite the lake pooling between your thighs for this cunning enigma of a man.

"I'm still mad at you, Mattheo..." you managed to croak out, head falling back as he pressed his lips to your neck. "You can't keep doing this...you can't keep sweet-talking me out of my anger for you.”

"Is that what you think I'm doing here?" He huffed, one hand leaving your ass and gripping your hip with enough force to shatter your bones. "Maybe I just can't keep my fucking hands off of you...maybe I like knowing I'm the only one who's ever touched you like this, the only one who's ever fucked your throat and seen those perfect tits of yours...maybe I don't like sharing...maybe I don't like the thought of my brother getting you alone and trying to take what's mine..."

You whimpered, chest constricting. "And you told me not to get attached?" You said, ignoring the burning, screaming flames that ignited at his admission. "You're utterly delusional...I'm not your fucking toy-"

“Yes you are.” He huffed, a deviant grin crawling over his lips. "And believe me, I'm not attached, princess..." he said. "I'm possessive, and there's a fucking difference. I know my brother...I know exactly how he operates."

"If it's anything like how you do, then I can understand your concern." You scoffed, not even attempting to hide your smirk. "But I'm not a child, I don't need protection. And believe me when I tell you, one irritating Riddle man in my life is more than enough."

His jaw tensed at your words, and he loosened his grip, almost fully releasing you, but not quite. "You can do all three."

You paused, lips parting, but he cut you off, sensing your incoming confusion. "Tutoring me in advanced magical studies and potions…plus the stupid club. You can do all three."

"What?" You were dumbfounded, nearly speechless. "I-I can't, Riddle...Dumbledore said-"

"He's only saying that because he thinks you'd actually have to tutor me in potions...we can just make him think you are...imagine how impressed he'll be when you tell him-"

"Oh, Mattheo! That's brilliant!" You beamed, excitement filling your eyes, all of your earlier anger and concern and disappointment seemingly flowing from your flesh, dissipating into the charged air. You gripped his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek, smirking as you pulled back. "You really changed your mind rather quickly."

"I see how much it upset you." He shrugged, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to interfere with your goals, Raven. I just want you to know that even though he's my brother, I won't refrain from kicking his fucking ass if he tries anything."

Your jaw fell open like you wanted to reply, but words would fail you, and he smirked. “Tell Dumbledore you’ll do it. And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Without giving you the chance to respond, he spun around, briskly making his way out of your dorm without another bloody word--leaving you entirely at a loss, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened.

————

CHAPTER FIVE->

[salemrph]

"I won't admit it" Sylus x MC

Summary: Tera notices that you have change in the past time, and she needs to address this. Are you going to admit your feeling for him?

This take place after the match in Radiant Brilliance.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: Comfort + Fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Sweetheart

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, date, humour, some intimacy

| Word count: 2676 | Reading Time: 18 min |

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and English isn't my first language. I hope you enjoy it! I've been reading a lot over the past few weeks, and I noticed that more fluffy and soft content is needed for Sylus and MC.

His arms tightened around you as his countdown reached one, and he placed a gentle kiss on your hair. Your phone clicked, capturing the moment. The picture of you two was saved instantly.

"Send it to me" he said fast. You're confused about what happened. "Now, there is new material to watch on the base " his voice soft and genuine. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your reaction.

The memory of that event crossed you mind while eating a few days later, in the cafeteria with Tera. She looks at you with a wide smile and says:

"And...? How long are you with him now?" You almost choked on your food hearing that question. "Hey, you okay there?" Tera asked, looking at you with concern as you attempted to clear your airway. "You're not dying on me, are you?"

After a few sips of water, you finally managed, "Yeah, I’m fine," you croaked, coughing once more. "Just… wasn’t expecting that question."

Tera’s grin widened, sensing she'd struck a nerve. "Oh, come on, spill the beans," she teased, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It’s obvious you’ve been seeing someone. You’re practically glowing lately. So, how long have you two been together?"

You hesitated. On one hand, you knew Tera wouldn't rest until she had all the details about whatever she thought was happening. But on the other, you were reluctant to share details about your relationship with Sylus.

"I... I'm not seeing anyone, Tera." You tried to play it cool, but recalling that soft kiss from him made you feel your cheeks warm up.

"You´re blushing! I knew it! "Tera stood up for her chair and bend over the table. "I'm your best friend, come on! Who is he? Oh my god! It's Zayne?! Or maybe... Xavier?!

"What? No! And keep your voice down…" you muttered, feeling a surge of embarrassment. You looked around, worried about others overhearing. “Again, I’m not with Sy�� anyone.” Your lips hesitated, betraying you. Fuck.

Tera’s gaze was intense, searching your face as if she was reading your mind. She seemed to sense something you hadn’t yet admitted to yourself. Every what happened between Sylus and you has been like a roller coaster ride. Form being his "personal armoury" as he call you one time, to take tare of his wounds and going on getaways with him. It was all jumbled inside of you, unspoken and unprocessed.

You sigh, knowing there's no way to get out of this. Tera smiled.

"Alright, alright" you concede, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Thinking that maybe Tera could hear you out a bit. "It's complicated, okay? Can we talk in other moment, and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Fine," she grumbles, although her curiosity is still evident in her eyes. "But the minute we're off the clock, I'm dragging every single detail out of you.

You chuckle at her tenacity, secretly relieved that you managed to dodge her questions for now. "Deal," you agree, a wry smile on your face. "The minute we're off the clock, it's Question Time."

Tera grins victoriously, clearly looking forward to her interrogation. "You'd better believe it," she replies, taking another bite of her food. "And don't try to pull a fast one on me either. I can smell lies from a mile away."

Despite your best efforts to put off the interrogation for as long as possible, taking more workload, you find yourself dragged out of the office by Tera, her grip on your arm firm and unyielding.

"We're going out for drinks," she declares, her voice brooking no arguments. "And we're not stopping until you've spilled every single detail about your mystery man."

You try to protest, to suggest a different time or place, but Tera is having none of it. She's determined to get the answers she wants, and she doesn't seem inclined to wait.

So you find yourself being herded into a nearby bar, pushed onto a stool next to her at the counter. Tera orders a round of drinks, sliding one towards you.

"All right," she says, fixing you with a determined look. "I've waited long enough. Time to spill the beans. Who's this guy, and how long have you been seeing him?"

“A couple of months…” you muttered, but Tera rolled her eyes. Clearly dissatisfied with your vague answer.

"A couple of months, eh? That's all you're giving me?" She takes a sip of her drink, scrutinizing you closely. "Come on, you can do better than that. What's his name? Oh, oh, oh! How about this guy of the other day? Mister Skye, right?

You feel a pang in your heart. You take a hefty gulp of your own drink. You know Tera won't let up until she has every single bit of information she wants, and you're resigned to the fact that you're going to have to give her something. Sorry Sylus... You´re apologised in your mind.

"I'm... not with him, alright" Tera let out a cry of excitement. "Come down, we are... just friends, okay?" you stammered. You´re not even sure if you can address that whatever you have with Sylus is like a friendship, but... is the easier way.

"As if!" Tera snorted. "What else?" She takes another sip of her drink, her gaze still fixed on you.

You sighed. You don´t want to answer all her questions.

"We... have spent a lot of time lately. That's it"

"That's it?" Tera crossed her arm. "Liar. You know what kind of look you had today at lunch?” She paused for a moment. "You’ve got a crush on him!"

"Huh?!" You felt your cheeks burn.

"You don't?" Tera sighed and gave you a knowing look. “Well, then why are you always around him?”

You think about the deal you made with Sylus before the auction. All the events you have been trough with him. Somewhere along the way, your heart had started caring for him. You hesitated, not wanting to admit it even to yourself.

“I’m not sure. It’s just fun... being around him,” you say not sure if that is the best word for what you feel when you are with him.

“So, Mister Skye is ‘fun,’ huh? From what I saw when he went with us to karaoke, his eyes were all on you. If you’re not crushing on him, I’d bet he has a crush on you.” Tera seems very enthusiastic about the idea of the rich guy having an affair with her best friend. Is a K-Drama in real time.

"Impossible," you murmured, looking down at your drink. Sylus wouldn’t… would he? You're Hunter, you have a deal with him, that's it.

A flicker of the memory hit you, of him brushing his lips against your hair. The thought made you nervous, and you downed your drink in one gulp, ordering another. Maybe a bit more alcohol would clear your mind.

“Look, Sy… Skye, he’s just… flirty. That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as Tera.

"Y/N, then let's do a crush test" You look up. Confused about the statement. Tera pull out his phone and tipped a few time on it. "Okay, just answer this questions for me" I nod.

"Does he call you often?" You nod, thinking about the late-night talks you share.

I'm used to hearing your voice before I got to bed. So... I wasn´t able to fall asleep without it today...

"Does he clear his schedule for you?" Your mind flashes back to the time he rushed through a meeting to bring you back in his jet to Linkon City. "Does he give you gifts?" You remember the set of aromatic candles he sent when you were stressed out over a presentation.

Tera continues through her list, and you keep nodding to every question. After at least 20, she finally puts down her phone.

"He doesn’t have crush. He fucking in love with you!" Your body tenses up at Tera's words. That's not possible. "I actually feel bad for him now. How can you be so blind?"

"Tera, stop. He isn’t…" You pause for a moment, your mind piecing everything together. Suddenly, all the sweet things he’s said to you over the past few months replay in your head. It’s as if he’s right beside you, leaning in, whispering in your ear.

I need to show them that I have already a lover.

You should know very well that I adore you.

It's not as cute as you.

You're look beautiful.

Are you satisfied with it, my beloved?

She studies your face closely, knowing she’s flipped a switch inside you. She waits for you to come to your conclusion. Tera seems to have a good idea that you’re leaving out some important details, but for now, she enjoys watching you consider the possibility of a romance.

Tera leans back in her chair, taking a long sip of her drink. "Y/N, you're a smart, strong, and beautiful person. Why wouldn’t he be absolutely smitten with you?" She pauses for a moment. "Look, if you aren’t sure about your own feelings, think about whether you’d be okay with him having a crush on someone else."

Tera pats your back and, for your mental sake, changes the subject. She begins talking about other gossip she’s heard and complains about her own love life.

***

As you walk home, the cool night air caressing your face, you can't help but think back to your conversation with Tera. You can still hear her words echoing in your head. With every step you take, the worry seems to grow a little bit stronger. You can't shake the feeling that you're walking into a trap, that you're setting yourself up for disappointment and heartbreak. What if you have crush on him? You can’t deny that he’s absolutely handsome and attractive, that he cares about you.

There’s a small flicker of hope deep within you—maybe, just maybe, the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, is real and genuine.

It’s late when you finally get home. You toss your shoes in a corner and throw your coat over the sofa. As you sink into the comfort of your bed, you hold the small crow-shaped stuffed animal close to your chest. The soft fabric beneath your fingers feels like a warm reassurance, reminding you of the good times you shared with Sylus at the arcade.

You check your phone before closing your eyes, just in case you missed one of his late calls. But there’s no notification. You turn over and close your eyes, a small smile spreading across your face at the memory of that date. You allow yourself to bask in its warmth for a few moments longer before slowly drifting off to sleep.

In that dreamlike state, you find yourself back at the arcade, laughing and playing with Sylus once again.

The sights and sounds of the arcade surround you—a kaleidoscope of bright colors and cheerful noises. You can hear the playful pings and dings of the various game cabinets, the clatter of tokens across the counter, and the laughter of children enjoying the games.

Sylus is there too, his tall and imposing figure standing next to you. He glances at you, a warm smile on his lips as he teases you about how badly you're losing at the racing game.

"Come on, you can do better than that," he teases, his voice laced with amusement. "You're supposed to be the gaming expert around here, remember? Don't tell me this simple little race is too much for you to handle!"

You playfully stick your tongue out at him in response, feigning indignity at his light teasing. "Oh, shut up! I'm just warming up, that's all! I'll beat you soon enough, just you wait!"

Sylus laughs at your response, clearly enjoying your playful banter. "Yeah, right," he teases. "You've been saying that for the past ten minutes. I'm starting to think you're all talk and no skill!"

He steps closer, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Or maybe you’re just so distracted by my charming personality that your game skills are suffering."

You try to ignore the way his voice makes your heart flutter, fixing him with a withering glare. "Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "You’re so full of yourself, you know that?"

Sylus chuckles, clearly entertained by your defiance. "Hey, I’m just being honest. I know I’m a catch," he says, puffing out his chest dramatically. "I mean, look at me. I’m rich, successful, and devastatingly handsome. Who wouldn’t want to be with me?"

You shake your head at his arrogance, though you feel your cheeks flush slightly at his confident words. “You’re absolutely insufferable, you know that?” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Insufferable, maybe. But you love it,” he says, taking another step closer. “Admit it—you can’t resist my charm, sweetie"

You try to keep your composure, but it’s getting harder. Your heart is racing, and your breaths come in shallow gasps. He’s so close now, his body almost brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

He reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “Come on, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost gentle.

He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “But… I kind of like it when you get all flustered in public. It’s cute.” Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel your cheeks grow even warmer.

Suddenly, he glances over your shoulder, then takes your hand, leading you into the photo booth. With a gentle push, he nudges you inside and steps in, pulling the curtain closed behind him, sealing you both in the cozy, private space.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re taking pictures, kitten,” he grins. “Isn’t that part of the arcade experience? Now, show me how this works.”

You sigh in relief, somehow expecting something more dramatic. You select some options on the panel, ready to get it over with.

“Choose some props if you want,” you hear the machine prompt. You gesture toward the small basket filled with cat ears, hats, and other playful accessories. Sylus picks up a pair of silly glasses, and you burst into laughter.

He crosses his arms, waiting for you to calm down.

“Do I look like a clown to you?” he asks, his tone amused but slightly smug.

“No, no, no, take those off!” you laugh harder, wiping a tear away. “We’re not doing this. Let’s just take normal pictures.”

You set the timer for the four pictures, and you both start posing. Sticking out your tongue, flashing peace signs, and goofing off. By the time the last picture comes, the countdown begins again.

3...

A strange feeling twists in your stomach. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

2...

Your thoughts flicker back to the boxing match. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, trying to steady yourself.

1...

And just as the camera flashes, Sylus grabs your chin and pulls you in for a quick, possessive kiss, capturing the moment with the photo.

The photo ejects from the machine, and Sylus grabs it, his smirk widening as he looks down at the printed image. “Perfect,” he says, holding it up for a brief moment before slipping it into his pocket.

“That’s another one for the collection,” he adds, his voice laced with lingering desire as he gazes down at you. “And I’m sure we’ll be making plenty more memories together, sweetheart.”

You lie alone in your bed, still tangled in the mixed-up memories of that moment with Sylus in the photo booth. You can still feel the heat of his body, the touch of his lips, the warmth of his fingers as they brushed against your skin.

As you replay the dream over and over, a sharp pang of pain strikes your chest, the weight of realization hitting you like a wave. Before you can fully process it, your phone lights up.

“Do you want to go to the arcade tomorrow?”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Scandals, Face Offs & Disappointments, Oh my!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 6 of 12 - 3 tiny girls ragging on Jack was possibly the greatest opening sequence ever. Poor Jack. He is so not single anymore - so far as everyone around him is concerned. 

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 15 - Sports day continues. We get a little backstory on the respective crushes on Noh. The jealousy between Phun & Earn is way more extreme in this version. I'm not mad about it. I love a claiming. Although it is so unfair of Phun to claim Noh when they agreed not to go there, AND he’s dating someone else. The byplay with Pete’s ex was fun. I wonder if we’re supposed to suss that Noh knows he’s gay in this version? 

I'm doing a face-off style watch along of this new version versus the original 2014-2015 version. Where I decide with each new ep which one wins. I will render a final judgement at the end. Frankly, I'm warming to this show way more than I thought I would give my extreme affection for the original.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - Oh it’s so cute that he just wants to officially move in. And the necklace claiming thing was darling. Mini boyfriend era. Min being a kept baby girl was kinda fun. The family thing was too sweet. Oh noes my man has been strangled! Oh good he’s okay. Stupid breakup “for the plot” moment, they could have easily been separated by baddies, we didn’t need to go through this. 

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 3 of 16 - I don’t care how cute he is or how longing those beautiful eyes, ghosting is a pretty big offense. Especially high school first love. I’m glad Ter is being difficult about it. Still the backstory is getting frustratingly confusing. It seems increasingly convoluted (full of girls) and I’m not sure what happened. So I’m not sure if I should be on Hill’s side or Ter’s. I’m beginning to feel manipulated and I don’t like it. I still like the show, but not as much as I did last week. I’m on a roller coaster here. 

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - It remains odd, disjointed, but still modestly entertaining. Ozone using a well placed Phi for manipulation purposes made me happy. Random het wedding is random. 2 drunk horny sunshine babygurls was cute tho. 

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - AKA Just one meet cute after another. Nice queer rep this time. It’s lovely, just not my style BL. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 10 fin - Okay so last week half the ep was eng subbed and this week only 3/4. Whatever. Please note my extreme annoyance with everything about this show will color my rating. As it should. Ready for a mini rant?

Conclusion

What to say about this damn show? It wasn’t what I wanted and I didn’t like it. I’m disappointed in myself for having expectations and in it for not living up to them. It starred August for fucks sake! How could they fuck it up so bad? I wanted it to be a Thai reinterpretation of the brilliance that was Addicted giving us the ending that we never got to have but the narrative deserved. I got a resounding nope. The side couple was messed with, rearranged, and then entirely dropped and forgotten. The main romance was weirdly obsessive without any physical payout or emotional resolution, as if this remake were the censored Chinese version. All characters acted irrationally most of the time, and from what I could tell there was no logic to the ending, which seemed to be to minors escaping to a beach, abandoning their schooling, families, and respective futures. It was a hot mess. Without being hot. 4/10 fatally flawed, do not bother

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - it's bad. I don't like it.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 8 - High school student Do Hoe lives with his violent and brutal father who runs a Taekwondo gym in a rural area. Then cheerful Ju Young arrives who dreams of going to college for Taekwondo. Joy begins to fill Do Hoe's dark life. An unexpected incident forces them apart, they reunite over a decade years later.

Make no mistake this one is dark. And Korea can go many directions when it leans dark. So I’m not entirely sure what to expect. All the triggers: child abuse, corporal punishment, alcoholism, gambling, and a few other things. But also a fantastically awkward kiss. Oh this is VERY good. I’m enjoying it. Tumblr is officially losing its tiny mind about it. What can I say? This hellhole loves it some gritty dark angst with high romance and deep meaning. All hail the return of Queen Hwang Da Seul. 

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 3 of 7 - He kinda is the worst boss ever. Now he’s turned into a drinking buddy whether baby likes it or not. I really feel for this kid. I do want more backstory on both of them. Why are they the way they are? All that said….. phenomenal kiss. Thanks boys. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 4 of ? - I do like the brothers relationship. Even though we know it’s gonna become romantic, it’s nice to see them all teasing and friendly. Meanwhile I’m getting a little exhausted by the bullying and I’m very much ready for the revenge narrative to continue.

Although I understand we have more of a spiral first, could we get on to some actual kissing soon? 

I'm shallow I just wanna see BV kiss the next boy. It's the BL world's version of Pokemon.

Our Golden Times (Hong Kong YT) 6 fin - Okay so this was the last ep! 

Summary

This was an odd disjointed little piece, but the most BL BL we’ve ever seen out of Hong Kong. The optics are good and it’s enjoyable for what it is, which is a circumspect, badly subbed, and slightly odd yet earnest reunion romance. I liked it more for what it could be, and for what it represented, than for what it actually was, but I still liked it.

7/10 recommended with reservations

I would like to nominate Our Golden Times @bengiyo as a candidate for the next "Girl you tried." Because it really did try hard to be the best little BL it could be under the circumstances.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - I do like all the couples, and in classic Taiwan style we’re ending ultra sappy (when they don’t fuck it up, and I don’t think this one will). Mei is the secret power behind the throne - as we all knew - love this for her, and us. 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 5 of 10 eps - I'm falling beind because my subber is, but sort-of trying to keep up. I don’t know. Just Japan messing with us, I guess.

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - It’s oddly erotic with all the gym stuff but also awkward and weird with the jelly plus suspicion. (Hi GeonU, another Thai/Korea BL for you? Is it a thing for you now? Could you recruit Jimin to the cause? I mean you go him into a reality competition. BL is right there. Waiting. Pretty please with a shirtless hottie on top?) Anygay, I keep thinking that this show would actually be better if the Thai character were just a Korean character and this was just a regular KBL. Although, it probably still wouldn’t be very good.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming:

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea Mon Viki) ep 1 of - Okay, this is both a movie (already out) and a series. Neither one is likely BL and I can't imagine it will end happily. Here's your synopsis:

Cynical fun loving student Young pinballs from home, to class, to on night stands. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju and hookups.

Apparently this is causing a homophobic ruckus in SK right now. As is wont to happen when one puts a really big name in the gay lead and your country is, well, pretty damn homophobic. Brokeback mukbang anyone? (Oh yes I am aware I'm a turd, but I'm too old for this crap. I guess that makes me a coprolite.)

10/23 See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga Viki et al) 10 eps? - Zi Xiong, a third-generation heir, attempting to flee from taking over their family business, meets and falls in love with Shao Peng, who works as a hearing-impaired nurse. From the same production house as Kiseki Dear To Me in partnership with Shinehouse Theatre, funded by Taiwan’s BIGART + Japan's Rakuten (Viki). Show includes Lin Chia Yo (Be Loved in House: I Do). Director Chiang Ping Chen’s childhood experiences with his deaf uncle have inspired the drama.

10/27 Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) 24 eps! - New directing yet another university BL with engineers + their mentees. Based on a Jittirain novel. with a massive cast and massive run time. We will be watching this until APRIL of 2025!

ForceBook playing the same old characters = enemies to lovers tsunder/sunshine jock/nerd thing.

PerthChimonSanta are doing the cohabitation cool guy/dork trope.

JuniorMark are doing popular sunshine meets lonely sad boy (the only interesting pair IMHO).

Not sure if these will be interwoven (We Are style) or shorter stand alone runs-within-the-run of 8 eps each (Y-Destiny style).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

You just kissed his brains out, what do you think? (Eh, we all know the aniyo is coming. This uke is made of tsudere and 아니요 ) (Damn Business)

I know, it's not a good show, but just LOOK at his face.

And the uke drunken shenanigans was brilliant. Loved it. (Battle Writers)

I did LOVE the twist on Golf. (Love Sick 2024)

Joke coming for our hearts just like...... it's TOO MUCH. War is SO DAMN GOOD. (J&J)

Calling out the trope HDS?

Gah. So awkward.

(Both from LFTCOT)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[vagabond-umlaut]

tempest in a teapot

gojo finds nothing more delightful than seeing your annoyed frown in the middle of a storm— why should he need the sun to break through the gloomy clouds, when you're right there in front of him, huh?

teen!gojo x fem!reader; fluffy & not-very-lwk sappy [xDD]; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you— you're compelled to tolerate him; he is sort of... obsessed w you but not in the toxic way yet; implied bullying [gojo isn't involved!!]; he wants to be your knight in shining armour sooo baddd; 'one-sided enemies to lovers'; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna!

header frm pinterest // divider by @/isisjupiter // jjk isn't mine

gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

one, those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else— and two, those who aren't but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world— the second category housing no one except you—

tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when asked why he wishes to meet you out of all the people he could. that too now, the sky darkening from a mix of night and storm— that too, to meet you.

candy crushed between molars, gojo grins.

"let's just say i'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy— if his six eyes were working just fine and not fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have known your location too in an instant or so... and not have had to rely on others for that...

the blinding beacon that your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self— he adds, "also maybe 'cause i'm a little in love with her— she's really sweet, y'know?"

whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

utahime makes a face. almost as if she just bit into a lemon... almost as if she doesn't believe gojo can fall in love... almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... that last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's shoko's girlfriend—

but he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

your cursed energy caresses his six eyes gently. something burns at the back of his two eyes. he begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him. the directions to you!!

"go down this hallway then turn right at the end. she will still be in the gardens—" the rest of the sentence doesn't reach gojo.

nor does anything else, for that matter.

nothing does. except for the steady thump!thump!thump! against his ribs and in his ears. and, of course— how did he even forget this— the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

so sweet. so sweet. it is the sweetest thing gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. the pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. legs swaying with the wind. gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

everything changes in a beat— or perhaps even less than that— with your eyes no longer on the book.

they are on him. drowning him. suffocating him. squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "why are you here, senpai?"

"why am i here?" he echoes your query. your frown deepens. he grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "to see you, of course!! mind if i take a seat beside you?"

you do mind. gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so— shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

your scowl stays unfazed, gojo watches, heart lurching and tumbling. falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head. and hums.

"why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "and please don't pretend you don't know why i'm mad— acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," the boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. it's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. but he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now— plus, don't the two of you seem so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

he continues— not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen. eyes narrowing a touch. lips pursed a pinch— he wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

he allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"but i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" not really. gojo finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. but since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "— so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so you aren't sent to a mission, so you have a 100% chance of staying alive anddd your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"why are you here, senpai?"

obviously, to see you, silly!!

— is what gojo should say. is what gojo wants to say. but he finds his tongue numb and unmoving. rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

if you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

and the boy loves it. his six eyes love it. the boy loves you—

your brows gather close. his stomach does a flip. your voice assumes an adorably serious tone. "you didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, senpai?"

did he?

oh, gojo doesn't really know.

maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. but maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in otsu, shiga.

only fifteen kilometres away from the kyoto jujutsu tech— you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like— he decides it's not that bad.

not when you lean a little towards him. gaze narrowed. tone earnest.

"look— i know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that— but how about this? instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't i buy you a box of them gourmet chocolates? or, a ticket to your favorite band's concert? or, a gift voucher of your favorite clothing store— this is better, isn't it?"

better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

but the thing is, he isn't. the boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you— he just wants to take you out on a date. always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. a very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

slipping his shades off, he sits up. and offers a tiny smile. it feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"you do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

it takes you a while to reply. throwing back a question of your own. "is this you telling me i can't buy a rich guy's silence, senpai?"

he is. he very much is. but heaven knows why you make it sound this rude— the same as before, you don't stop speaking. not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"but everyone likes free stuff, don't they? i mean, i'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. so minute, he almost misses it. but he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "don't you like freebies, senpai?"

he does. he very much does. even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"you're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now. extremely likely, forever. "i don't really get why utahime doesn't see you to be so."

you make some sort of a noise then.

it isn't exactly a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

you hum, "iori-senpai is the kindest out of everyone here. if she thinks i'm not someone sweet... i don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"hell no," gojo mutters in that same instant— a little miffed at how you refer to utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say— not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

for the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

it's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a tad. in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

he doesn't really think before adding, "the only bells i can hear when i look at you are—" you frown. he bites his tongue. perhaps... he should think a bit before speaking...

chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"never mind what i can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds— like, hell no!" he repeats. letting some force seep into his syllables. into his unwavering stare, fixed on you. on every minute expression you're making—

he really decides to think, however. softening himself on noting your shaky exhale. your nails digging into the cover of your book— he lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"feel free to text me the names of those dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way— but don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"i won't ask you out on a date in return for that— i'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as i asked you to— you will text me, won't ya?"

yeah. no. thank you. fuck you—

you say nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

for a very painfully long ten seconds.

during which you do nothing except look at him— just look, that too! neither glare nor gape nor gawk— just a quiet, scarily quiet looking— gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

and inquire, words so slow and soft.

"this isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"hey, no—" he rushes to explain. fuming at himself 'cause how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?— but as is the norm, you don't allow him to speak any more than that. cutting him off with yet another one of your queries— except this time, it's not so slow.

and more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it— "you did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

no, he didn't. obviously, he didn't.

gojo satoru might be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them... something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much— but he finds himself not too sure.

thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

and the torrential rains following not an instant late.

and the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold— only to come back to his face. wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. he tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away. his six eyes gaze at the trail of your addictively bright and hot— and his six eyes aren't talking about just the temperature— cursed energy—

the boy tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

the thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. or maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

yet another lightning streaks across the sky. he twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at the sight. features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

or maybe he can die later, he changes his stance quickly. on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

you huff when you reach him.

the boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

and exhale a quiet sigh. his breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that after your missions— it is very difficult to be mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

[no... gojo doesn't really know.

but as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm— an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building— and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

cans of green tea. chamomile tea. dark chocolate. biscuits. water—

the boy muses if this is your attempt to buy his silence. by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to tokyo...

oh. it's enough for him to not worry 'bout tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

gojo smiles.

deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart— albeit... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[metallicames]

I needed to vent my dirty thoughts about late 80's James(AJFA) so I wrote this.

Thanks as always for your help @nausicaamusiclover20 ❣️

Nothing Else Matters

Description: you and James are best friends and practically inseparable but something changes when one day he invites you into the band's studio to listen to some new tracks.

WARNINGS: smut, explicit content, sex, oral sex, dirty talking.

It’s a warm mid-May afternoon when I step off the plane at LAX. The New York shoot had been nonstop—flashbulbs, stylists, chaos—but the familiar California air feels like a balm on my skin. As I wheel my bag through the arrivals terminal, I spot him immediately. James is leaning against his black Mustang, arms crossed, his aviators glinting in the sun. Lars is there too, animated as always, gesturing wildly while James listens with an amused smirk. The sight of them makes something in my chest loosen, something that’s been knotted tight for weeks.

I drop my bag and rush toward them, my smile widening. Lars is first, scooping me into a quick, playful hug, his energy infectious as always. Then I turn to James. His arms open, and the second he pulls me in, I feel it—the weight of the past month without him falls away.

“You’ve been missed, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice soft but steady, his breath warm against my hair.

“So have you,” I reply, my voice quieter than I mean it to be. It’s the truth. James isn’t just my best friend he's also my family since I don't have one.

The Mustang roars to life as James merges onto the freeway, the sound of the engine almost drowning out Lars’ running commentary from the backseat. Almost. The stereo is turned all the way up, blasting rock and metal that James drums along to on the steering wheel. When Harvester of Sorrow comes on, it’s over for all of us. Lars grabs an invisible pair of drumsticks, attacking the back of my seat in time with the beat. I throw myself into the vocals, headbanging until my hair flies into my face, laughing through the lyrics.

James glances at me, his grin widening as he belts out the chorus, his voice gravelly and loud. His energy is magnetic, the kind of presence that pulls you in until you forget everything else. I’m laughing so hard my stomach aches, and for the first time in weeks, the world feels… light. Free.

This is what life is supposed to be, I think. Loud, messy, and completely perfect.

As the city melts away behind us, the horizon stretches out in golden waves, sunlight streaking across the dashboard. I lean my arm out the open window, fingers slicing through the warm breeze, and let myself relax into the rhythm of the road. James glances over, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

“So,” he starts, his voice casual but curious, “how was New York?”

I launch into stories about the shoot—grueling hours, impossible expectations, the occasional flashes of brilliance that made it worth it. He listens the way he always does, his attention steady, his face lit with interest. When I finally stop to take a breath, he nods, his expression softening.

“I’m proud of you,” he says simply.

The words hit harder than I expect, leaving a warm ache in my chest. Before I can respond, we pull up to Lars’ place. I hug Lars goodbye, watching him disappear, and then James turns to me.

“Feel like coming to the studio?” he asks, one hand draped casually over the wheel. “The others aren’t around, but I’ve got some stuff I’d love for you to hear.”

I hesitate for a moment, the exhaustion from the flight catching up with me. But the way he looks at me—hopeful, expectant—makes it impossible to say no.

“Let’s do it,” I say, and the way his grin widens makes me glad I did.

The studio smells like it always does: wood polish, leather, and the faint tang of old metal strings. It’s familiar, grounding, like stepping into a place that’s half museum, half home. Instruments are scattered everywhere—guitars leaning against amps, Lars’ drumsticks on the floor, a pair of headphones abandoned on the mixer table. I trail my fingers along the edge of the console as James hands me a cold beer.

“Hungry?” he asks, holding up a takeout bag.

“Starving,” I admit, cracking open the bottle and taking a sip. He grins and sets out the food, motioning for me to sit.

“Listen to this and relax,” he says, pressing play on the mixer. “It’s new. Just an idea we’ve been messing with.”

The track that fills the room is raw and heavy, a mix of blistering riffs and experimental rhythm changes. I kick off my shoes, curling up on the couch, and let myself get lost in the sound. My fingers drum against my knees, my feet tapping out the beat. For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the music wrap around me like a warm blanket. When I open them again, James is standing a few feet away, watching me with a curious intensity.

“I love seeing you like this,” he says, his voice low but clear. “You’re always honest with us. You’ve got great taste.”

I laugh, brushing off the compliment, but something about the way he says it sticks with me. We sit side by side on the couch, devouring our burgers and swapping stories until James suddenly gets up and grabs an acoustic guitar.

The melody he plays next is soft, haunting, and completely unexpected.

“What’s this?” I ask, my voice hushed.

He doesn’t look up, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings. “Just something I’ve been playing around with,” he says. “You’re the first to hear it.”

I don’t respond. I’m too busy watching him—his focus, the way his body moves with the music, the sunlight catching in his messy blond hair. James has always been good-looking, but right now, he’s something else. His tanned skin glows in the fading light, and there’s a calmness to him that takes my breath away.

It’s dangerous, the way my thoughts start to drift. I quickly look away, forcing myself to focus on the music.

When he finishes, I clap, my cheeks warm and my chest tight. “That was incredible,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Seriously, Jamie. It gave me chills.” He sets the guitar aside, his gaze softening. “Come here,” he says, opening his arms.

I hesitate for a second before leaning into him, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me close. His chin rests on the top of my head, the warmth of his chest against my back reassures me like a blanket.

“Are you tired?” he murmurs, his hands moving to my shoulders. His thumbs begin to knead the tension there, slow and deliberate.

“A little,” I admit “But this is nice.”

Minutes pass like this, his hands drifting lower, skimming along my sides and back up again. His breath brushes against my ear, warm and steady, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me. My heart races, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite name.

James’s lips trail gently along the curve of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. His hands move with deliberate care, resting against me, their strength both grounding and exhilarating. My heartbeat races, the rhythm wild and unsteady as I try to catch my breath, The idea that James had these intentions had never crossed my mind and right now I feel overwhelmed.

“James… we shouldn’t…” The words slip from me in a breathy whisper, barely audible over the pounding in my chest.

“Why not?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, a subtle edge of desire beneath his usual calm. “Just… relax. Enjoy the moment.”

His lips find the hollow of my collarbone, pressing there with soft insistence, and I shiver. Slowly, I turn to face him. His eyes meet mine, and there’s something different in them—a quiet intensity that takes my breath away. Before I can overthink it, I lean in, closing the distance.

The kiss starts slow, almost hesitant, but the moment his lips part against mine, it’s as if every inhibitory brake has fades. The taste of him is familiar and yet intoxicating, a heady mix of his cologne and the faint bitterness of beer. Our movements sync instinctively, like this was always meant to happen, as if some unspoken rhythm has finally been realized.

His hand then lower on my womb and lit my mini skirt and insticively I spread my legs letting his hand touching me. His fingertips caress the soft fabric of my panties and he lets out a low growl. I stop kissing him, resting my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes desperate of wanting more. I felt James’ other hand slips under the sweatshirt snd then touching my naked breast. He starts touching my nipple in a circular way that made me gasp. He let out another moan, closer to my ear this time louder, which makes my weak knowing that he craves more. I know that this isn’t right, he is my best friend, but his touch is like a drug and I want more. As he said, I let myself enjoy the moment. With a determined movement I lower my panties, kicking them with my feet. James takes his hand closer to his mouth and spit on it and he reaches my clit, starting rubbing it wiht his movements that made me lose my mind. “Fuck, he’s so damn good” I think as he continues to stimulate me. I let out a soft moan, I open my eyes and the scene hit me: the sun outside is setting leaving the sky with beautiful colors making the studio magical. The blurred light create a sensual atmoshpere while James' muscular arms envelop my excited body.

“Show me what you like…” James whispers, his voice low and laced with a quiet urgency. His lips brush against my ear before he catches the lobe gently between his teeth, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand rests against my breast, warm and steady, until I guide it to my groin, my fingers trembling slightly as I lead him in my entrance, where I need him most while the other hand is taking care of my clit. The delicate movements he enters make me gasp, my body arches into him, my back pressing against his firm chest as his rhythm finds something instinctual, something perfect.

I can feel his erection against my lower back. I also feel the tension in him too, is evident in the way he moves, the way his breath grows heavier with every reaction he draws from me. His fingers’ movements start being faster and I couldn’t help but moan and sigh.

“James…” I gasp, his name spilling from my lips unbidden, a desperate prayer in the heat of the moment.

“Let me take care of you” he murmurs, his voice low and velvet-smooth, sending another wave of heat coursing through me.

His hands are everywhere I want them to be, skilled and unrelenting, drawing sensations so intense that I can hardly keep up. The way his fingers enter and exit from my entrance make me feel dizzy. My head tilts back against his shoulder, and I close my eyes, losing myself in the moment, in him. Every nerve feels alive, every touch igniting something deeper.

I know I'm going to cum. I feel a rush building inside me, a warm wave starting deep within, growing stronger with every passing second. I hold onto James' ankle tightly, the connection between us feeling more intense with each movement. My breath becomes shallow, harder to control, and I can’t help but let out soft sounds as my body responds instinctively, moving in sync with him. Every touch, every gesture seems to amplify the moment, making my hips move a little in time with his fingers. He’s damns fucking me with his fingers and he fuck knows how to do it.

"Come for me, Y/n, let me feel how much you enjoy this..." His voice, thick with desire, is the spark that sends a wave of intense pleasure coursing through me. I cum in his hands followed by a strong orgasm. A rush of sensations floods over me, overwhelming and almost indescribable, as I give in to the moment. 

"Fuck..." I gasp, my voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. I can feel the satisfaction in his smile against my skin as he continues to touch me, his movements slowing down. I instinctively close my  legs, holding onto his wrist, and he pauses for a moment, gently slapping my clit.

He pulls his hands away, and I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. His gaze lingers on me as he brings his fingers to his lips, savoring the cum with a satisfied hum.

I'm breathless, overwhelmed by the sensations, feeling a deep sense of peace wash over me, still caught in the aftermath of what we just shared. I'm trying to make my breath regular but then James comes closer to my ear. “Now, I need to lick it” With his husky voice that makes my heart skip a beat. 

I don't know how to react. The orgasm I had earlier was the best I ever had. It left me breathless, and the thought of him taking me to that peak again sends a shiver through my spine, both startling and thrilling me.

I shift, allowing him to move in front of me, not saying a word but watching his every movement, completely captivated by his presence, his scent, the way he moves with such confidence.

He gently pulls at my skirt, his voice low as he commands, "Take it off... I want to see your body." His gaze, filled with intent and admiration, sends a rush of excitement through me. I pull off my sweatshirt, and the skirt locking eyes with him as he kneels on the couch, fully dressed, and I can feel the intensity of his attention on me.

I bite my lip instinctively, heart racing as he watches me. While I lay back on the pillow behind me, he gently spreads my legs, and his gaze falls on me, lowering on my pussy, slow and deliberate, as if he’s memorizing every detail of me.

"I think I just fell in love," he says, his gaze never leaving my cunt. He moves closer, his hands gently gripping my buttocks, parting them just enough to bring his head between my legs. I grip the pillow behind me with one hand, the fingers of the other one running through his hair, as he starts to lick my clit, each lick sending waves of pleasure through me.

His eyes meet mine occasionally, filled with desire, and I couldn’t help but move my hips toward him, drawn to him, making him licking deeper, lost in the sensation. I felt completely overwhelmed, consumed by the moment, as he continues, never slowing down, his focus unwavering. "You taste amazing… You’re perfect" he murmurs, his voice thick with passion. And I couldn’t deny it—every part of me craves him, every second more intense than the last. I find myself wanting more, needing to feel him even closer, my heart racing as I whisper, "I need you, James... now." He pulls back slightly, giving me a teasing smile as he raises an eyebrow. With surprising speed, he removes his pants the subtle line of his tan and the hint of blonde hair just below his stomach catch my attention, causing me to let out a soft sigh.

When he removes his boxers I couldn’t  help but stare, I was surprised, I had never seen such a big cock. He looks at me with a smirk. Then he comes closer to me, kissing me with such passion and pressing his dick’s tip toward my entrace. I'm wet and excited, but I'm tight, so fucking tight for his dick. I take off his t-shirt and rest my hand on his ass guiding him to my entrace. He opens his mouth letting out a little sight as he penetrates me, stopping halfway. “Fuck, you’re so tight” he says, his breath quick and uneven. I try to relax, feeling the warmth of the moment and knowing that soon it will transform into pure pleasure. I gently touch his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his body. His gaze meets mine, eyes wide, and I could tell he's losing control.

He moves slowly, making sure I adjust to him, and I gasp, my eyes fluttering shut from the growing sensation.

"James, it’s too big.. my god," I whisper.

"Take your time," he says softly, leaning down to kiss my forehead gently.

He moves with a natural sensuality, gradually increasing the pace, his breaths becoming deeper and blending with mine. The sensations intensified, overwhelming me in the best way, as I felt chills running through my body, drawing me closer to him. It’s as if the connection between us both is growing stronger with every moment.

At one point, he shifts, adjusting my position gently, but without losing his rhythm. He places my leg over his shoulder, his touch tender yet firm as he continues, while his lips travel down to kiss and caress my foot. I marvel at how he seems to know exactly what I need, responding to every shift and movement, almost as if he can read my thoughts.

In this new position, everything feels deeper. His thrusts became stronger, more powerful, and the pace quickens, building the tension between us both. Every touch, every breath, seems perfectly timed.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, sensing my moans growing louder with every passing moment.

“Fucking not, please continue… don’t stop” I cry out, my voice trembling with anticipation, as I feel the intensity build even more. 

The situation starts to spiral, and he moves deeper, relentlessly, his thrusts becoming more powerful. His hand rests on my lower abdomen, intensifying the sensation with every thrust.

“Shit, I’m… I’m about to...” he breathes out, his voice strained. My vision blurs as I press my hands to my face, unable to control the gasps escaping me. Eventually, I feel a rush of sensation, waves of heat spreading through me. And I feel my hot cum coming out little by little. 

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim, trembling. Shortly after, he thrusts deeper, his grip tightening as he slows, his body shuddering with a low, almost animalistic groan.

We both look at each other, still processing the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

“What just happened?” he asks, laughing in disbelief, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his hand.

He slowly pulls away from me, and we both let out a soft gasp. He lies down beside me, his head resting gently in my hair. We stay there in silence, our breathing slowly returning to normal.

I feel a deep sense of well-being, completely content and at peace in the moment. I don’t want anything more right now—I’m fully satisfied and happy. Before I even realize it, I fall asleep.

I wake up after a while, feeling a blanket draped over me, but underneath, I’m still naked. My body feels warm, and I blink a few times, trying to focus. I glance ahead and see James sitting with his back to me on a stool, the guitar resting on his lap, he’s focused, writing something in a notebook. The room is dark, and I can't quite tell how long I've been asleep.

“How long did I sleep?” I ask, my voice hoarse and still thick with sleep. He turns to look at me, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Hey, welcome back,” he says, his voice warm and easy. “I think about an hour.”

I slowly sit up, the blanket still wrapped around me. It’s not cold, but I feel exposed without clothes, even though James has already seen everything of my body.

I get up and walk over to him. "How long are you planning to stay here working?" I ask, curious but not in a rush.

He grins, his goofy, wide smile taking over his face: “I could stay and sleep here, you know I’m like a homeless guy” he says, leaning back on the stool. It’s the same old James—the carefree, easygoing guy I know so well. I had feared that things would be different after everything that happened, but here he is, still the same funny, spontaneous guy I’ve always known.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asks, his eyes still focused on the notebook.

“Mmm, no, if I’m not bothering you, I’ll stay here. I’ve got my suitcase. Maybe I’ll freshen up,” I say, not feeling like leaving just yet. James and I are both free spirits—neither of us has roots. Sometimes it’s painful, but it also connects us in a way. We don’t owe anyone anything, and we’re each other’s family in this unpredictable world.

He smiles, his eyes lighting up with a playful gleam. I want to kiss him, but I hesitate, unsure if it's the right moment. Still, seeing him smile like that makes my chest feel lighter.

"You can take a shower if you want… if you’re not grossed out by the pubic hair and are brave enough" he says, with that usual nonchalant tone of his.

I laugh softly, shaking my head, rolling my eyes at his cheekiness. I walk past him toward my suitcase, covering myself with the blanket. “Why are you walking around like a native american? Didn’t seem like you were shy an hour ago.”

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, a blush creeping up as I turn slightly away from him. I glance at him quickly, a little embarrassed, before grabbing my bathrobe and the shower gel.

After the shower, I feel like a new person—refreshed, recharged, and ready for whatever. I step out of the bathroom, my bathrobe wrapped tightly around me, my hair still damp. James is half-lying on the couch, a beer in hand, staring at the ceiling with a relaxed expression. His fingers lightly tap the pillow, keeping time with the music that’s playing in his head.

He stretches his arm out, offering me the beer bottle. I sit beside him and take a sip, the cold bottle feeling comforting in my hand.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, curious.

“Everything and nothing,” he says, his smile playful, resting his head in his hand and making a goofy face. The warmth of the moment makes me feel at ease, like nothing has changed between us.

“Want to listen to some music?” I suggest, and he nods, clearly eager. After a brief debate, we agree on Lynyrd Skynyrd, the perfect background music for the night. He gets up to grab yet another beer, and I lean back on the couch, content in the quietness that fills the space between us.

We talk about everything—what’s coming up with the tour, how my work has been lately, Lars' latest antic (as usual), and just about life in general. Our conversation flows effortlessly, like it always does, and I lose track of time.

Before I know it, it’s already 10 p.m. I glance at the clock—still in my bathrobe, not really caring. We’ve lost count of how many beers we’ve had. I feel a little disoriented from the drinks and the lack of food, but I don’t mind. Our dinner had been a bag of chips we shared, and it felt perfect in the moment.

“Let me get comfortable,” James says, his voice light, and I chuckle, not sure if he’s joking or being serious.

He pulls off his pants and t-shirt, leaving just his boxers, while Jimi Hendrix plays softly in the background. Without even realizing it, I find myself staring at him. Just a few moments pass, and I instinctively drop the bathrobe, now fully exposed. I catch a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

I move closer, crawling onto the couch, and he shifts to give me more room, spreading his legs to make space.

“Round two?” I ask, my voice teasing but confident.

“You don’t even need to ask,” he responds, his tone firm, pulling me gently toward him.

This time, I took control. I kiss him passionately, my lips meeting his with a hunger that surprises me. I bite his lower lip softly, and he responds, our movements slow and purposeful as we connect deeply.

I reach toward him, my hand brushing against the fabric of his boxers, feeling the tension in his body. He keeps his gaze locked with mine, and I can sense the energy between us. He gently places a finger to my mouth, a silent request. I sucked it sofly but with determination and shortly after he slowly reaches my nipple, playing with it. 

I lower his boxers slowly, the anticipation in the air thickening. I start stroking his cock. It's the first time I touch it, and my hand compared to it it's rather little. With the other hand, I start to massage his testicles. He closes his eyes and gasping he let his head fall on the couch. “Fuck..” He moans, letting the beer fall on the ground but we don’t even notice it and I start to stroke him with both my hands increasing the pace. 

"Do you like this?" I ask, my voice low and soft, the question hanging between us.

He lets out a breath, his fingers tightening on the leather of the couch. His voice is almost a whisper, yet filled with intensity. "Isn't it obvious?" he murmurs, his answer sending a ripple of heat through me.

Watching him react to my touch, the way his body moves and shudders with each breath, heightens the desire building inside me. His chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern, each inhale and exhale deep and uneven, a sign of the pleasure he’s experiencing. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and I can feel my own heart racing in response.

There’s a certain power in the way he surrenders to the moment, his vulnerability making him even more alluring. I let the quiet tension build between us, each passing second drawing us closer, before I decide to take the next step.

I start licking the shiny and swollen tip of it's length with my tongue with circular movements until I slowly reach the base of his cock. He’s in ectasy, he takes a slow, steady breath, but there's a slight quiver in it, a subtle sign of how much the sensation is affecting him. His pulse quickens, and his chest rises and falls with each breath, as though he's trying to steady himself against the growing feeling. 

“I'm losing my mind” he says, his voice low and strained, his hand gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to steady himself. His body tenses, the intensity of the moment washing over him.

I continued for a bit, but I didn’t want to make him cum yet, so at some point I stopped. His eyes open, slightly dazed, and he looks at me with a mixture of surprise and desire.

I shift slightly, turning around and positioning myself on top of him, my back facing him. I took his member and I push it gently against my entrance making me gasp for his size. His hands rest gently on my hips, guiding my movements with a quiet intensity.

We both move together, the rhythm of our  bodies in sync, each moment more intense than the last. He starts touching my ass with force and sometimes slapping it making me flinch. 

“Lean forward, I wanna see everything.” He said, his voice low, full of intent. I comply, and leaning down I rest my clit on his testicles and the rubbing made me wail.

“You’re so damn sexy...I’m about to come” He says moaning louder. I feel that he's close so I rest my hand on his leg and with the other I touch my clit, I want so desperately cum with him. I squeeze around his dick to increase the stimulation while rolling my hips just enough to feel his entire length inside me. The sensation is so good and I moan so loudly that I bet they would be heard even outside the studio, but I couldn't care less, the only thing that matters is this.

“Fuck, Fuck…. I’m cumming” He cries, lifting his hips, pushing me down, squeezing my waist tightly making me feel his dick even more deeper. His voice becomes lower, breathier, each word strained as if he's barely able to hold back. His member pulsing inside my walls as he releases his hot seed inside me while my hand moving to my clit made me cum insticively. 

"Oh my god!" I gasp, breathless and overwhelmed. The waves of sensation course through me, making my body tremble for a few seconds as the intensity of the moment lingers.

“I love fucking with you..You have no idea” James gasps, his breath uneven as he tries to steady himself, his body still vibrating from the intensity of the moment. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, as he attempted to regain his composure.

As I finally catch my breath, I settle beside him, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. We don’t need words; our bodies have already said everything we need to hear. The silence is peaceful, comforting, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing next to me. He kisses my forehead gently and his hand brushes softly over my shoulder, sending a wave of calm through me. I wish I could freeze this moment, feeling so deeply grateful for everything between us. The music plays softly in the background, a peaceful melody that lulls us both. We fall asleep together, entwined, naked and safe in each other’s arms.

[syluspen]

college au with sylus (somehow continuation with au where you're sylus's college gf) where he is your whole ipad theme

warning: heavy projection :3 lolz because i literally made an effort in redesigning my ipad to sylus and even putting stickers at the back 😭 when i’m not usually a fan of putting lots of it on my gadgets, but here we are

it was one of those days where you are having your occasional sleepovers at sylus’s mansion

it’s almost the end of your semester and your schedule has been hectic, so why not spend it at his home?

less stress if possible because this man will cook for you ksksksks

i can’t imagine him munching on some cute snacks, but since he started being with you, he experienced a lot of new things

and speaking of snacks, expect lots of it, especially imported ones like damn bro

just know you will never starve whenever you’re at his place

it’s almost midnight and you’re still on your ipad and laptop doing your finals tasks

sylus, in front of you, doing his own thing as well, accompanying you

you decided to take a break and went to the bathroom doing your business

before doing so, you turn the screens off of your gadgets

sylus is never the type to pry into your personal space, he just trusts you so much

but he can’t help but notice that whenever you leave your personal belongings around him, especially your ipad, you always made sure to turn it off, not even bothering to return it to the homescreen, just turning it off, and putting the ipad cover back on it

but today was different

the stress must be having a toll on you, because despite turning the ipad screen off, you forgot to put the ipad cover back on

as sylus was about to continue with whatever he was doing, your ipad screen lit up

it should be nothing… but he caught a glimpse of something white

isn’t that his… hair?

sylus has never really seen the content of your ipad, if you had use it around him, you are mostly in an application, but thinking about it now, could you be hiding something?

it piqued his curiosity and did not hesitate to pick up your ipad to have a better look

your lockscreen was a photo of him you took after he won one of his boxing matches while holding a bouquet (radiant brilliance 😌)

this made him smirk (i can imagine ksksksksk)

i just know this man would not hesitate to unlock your ipad too

he knows the password because… this is sylus

and oh wow what a sight to see

the homepage, the next page, and so… its all of his face

were you always been obsessed with him?

and as god intended it to be, you got back from the bathroom and never have your soul left so fast

you ran so fast and snatched your ipad from sylus's hands, he did not even bother fighting back because the cat's already out of the bag

"sy, i think its time we sleep, don't you think? hahaha 🧍‍♀️"

"don't you think you have some explaining to do, kitten?" cue his smirk again

both of you had a staring contest until you gave in

you ended up telling him that he just inspired and motivated you so much, not just in your university life, but in general. having him as your ipad theme was a constant reminder for you to always do well and strive for the better. and that you look up to him.

while explaining, sylus's smirk slowly turned into an affectionate smile. he never expected you to think highly of him. he's aware he's great (i love a confident man 😌), but he just did not expect you admired him this much that it manifested to becoming an ipad theme.

but he is super glad that his existence is of help to you, that he motivates you and all. this definitely boosted his ego too lol.

"i'm glad i'm of help to you, kitten. and whatever you face, i will always be here to support you."

help i dont how to end this lol. and i suck at making comforting words. but yeah not even kidding, never been so inspired before when i first saw sylus in twitter 😭

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David interview with Maggie Bocella for Collider, 10.7.2013

COLLIDER: Obviously, when you started making this show, you had the book to go off of, you had a very specific framework to work off of. But because everything for Season 2 is new, did you get to have any input with Neil Gaiman on where Crowley goes from the end of Season 1?

DAVID: Oh no, that's not my job. No, I mean, we've got Neil Gaiman, so you just get excited about what direction he's going to send you in. It wouldn't occur to me, to be honest, to start giving Neil Gaiman plot suggestions or character suggestions, that would just be limiting his brilliance, I think, if he was trying to sort of contort his ideas around mine. So no, I just sat back and was excited to let a script ping in and find out what was going to happen next. What a treat to get to be one of the first people to read the continuing adventures of Aziraphale and Crowley.

COLLIDER: In that vein, how do you think Crowley has changed between the end of Season 1 and where we see him now? Can we expect anything significantly different from him this season?

DAVID: Well, as you would expect, he's no longer working for his corporate bosses from Hell, which gives him a certain liberty. He's more of a free agent, but it does mean that they've taken back the swishy apartment that comes with the job. So he’s in slightly diminished circumstances. He's living in his Bentley in his car with his potted plant and feeling slightly hard done by it, I think. But quite early on, we see him meeting with Shax, who's his replacement in the job. So he's keeping his ear to the ground, seeing what's going on, and giving Shax a bit of guidance as to how to be Hell’s representative on Earth and also how to fix the boiler in the apartment. Yes, he's certainly as we always knew him, but probably a little bit grumpier.

COLLIDER: You mentioned the Bentley, and the Bentley being cursed to play Queen songs forever and ever and ever is one of my favorite parts of the show. I was curious what you think Crowley's favorite Queen song, is if he's not so sick of them that he never wants to hear them again.

DAVID: That's a very…wow, that's a difficult question. I need a lot of prep for that. What's my favorite Queen song? I don't know. I mean, “Don't Stop Me Now” is probably the best driving song, isn't it?

COLLIDER:Yeah!

DAVID: And he certainly enjoys driving at ridiculous, slightly supernatural speeds. I suspect that's probably the best soundtrack for that, so it's probably that, or “A Kind of Magic,” I suppose, makes a certain sense for a supernatural being with unearthly powers.

COLLIDER: That's a good answer. But you also work very closely with Michael Sheen, who you not only work with on this but also on Staged, you're quite close. What's it like getting to put that friendship dynamic to use? Especially since this and Staged are so completely different.

DAVID: It's very nice to get to work with a friend every day, you can't pretend it's not. I mean, we did have the pleasure of doing Staged during lockdown, which of course probably wouldn't have happened were it not for us getting to know each other so well on Season 1 of Good Omens. It wasn't so long after the first Good Omens came out that we were all locked in our houses for months on end. We managed to come up with this notion of doing Staged and making a show on our laptops, which, really, we did initially just to amuse ourselves, to see if it was possible. Then it ended up becoming more. We just [premiered] Series 3, so between the first season of Good Omens and the second season of Good Omens, we managed to do three seasons of something else together!

COLLIDER: This show has had such a massive fan response. How much of that are you really aware of? Are you seeing how people are reacting to this show?

DAVID: Oh, it's been quite overwhelming. I've been to a few Comic-Cons over the last few years, and when I visited them pre-Good Omens, I saw a lot of people dressed up as me from…another show. But that has slowly changed until the amount of Doctors and the amount of Crowleys I meet are certainly neck and neck these days. But what's lovely about the Crowleys and the Aziraphales is they always come in pairs, so you get to meet people who've got all dressed up often with their best mates.

That's one of the great joys of being involved in this show, that these characters are so beloved. And of course, the great honor of taking on something like that, a character that people are so enthusiastic about, is that the great terror is that you'll break it, that you won't be… I think, especially with a literary character, the act of reading a book is such an internal mental spell that you cast, isn't it? Those characters are almost more vivid than a character that you might see on screen. So embodying characters that have been so loved for so long, not breaking them, not, you know, crushing dreams… The way that we've been accepted by those fandoms, it's been quite humbling, to be honest.

COLLIDER: You're also part of another Neil Gaiman joint, you play Loki in The Sandman audio series. Obviously, that's a different medium, but are there any similarities between working on The Sandman and working on Good Omens?

DAVID: The Gaimanverse is certainly its own creation, but Good Omens is always slightly different, of course, because it wasn't just Neil, it was very much co-created by Terry Pratchett, who also had a very distinctive voice and a distinctive universe. But there's something very specific about the Good Omens universe, which is where these two very distinct, very vivid authorial voices blend together to create something very specific and quite unique. So, I don't know how similar it was being part of The Sandman. I mean, it was a great pleasure to be part of it. It was wonderful to make Loki come from Scotland as well. I think Tom Hiddleston should take some notes. There's nothing better than a Glasgow Norse god. I’m kidding, obviously, he is the definitive Loki, but I did my best to sort of, you know, target his coattails.

COLLIDER: Besides Good Omens and Staged, you are coming back to Doctor Who this year. It's all anybody I know can talk about, but obviously, the spoiler police will come and get me if I attempt to talk to you about too much. So if you could describe what audiences are gonna see in November in, like, three words, what three words would you use?

DAVID: Three words? Three words?! Three new stories. That's not very good, is it? That doesn't give you very much away. Neil Patrick Harris! There you go.

[solastia]

Indulgence

Pairing: Yoongi, Jimin, F!Reader

Kinktober Theme: Threesome

TW: Power imbalance, light choking, threesome, MMF, polyamory, no protection is even mentioned, can seduction be dubious consent? Because if so then yeah, they kinda gaslight you into fucking them lmao. Big dick Yoongi. I'm adding that because I don't usually do that. Dirty talk. Oh, I should probably warn I use cunt, because I like that word. *shrug*

Welcome to another edition of Solastia fails to make a drabble a drabble! I was just going to make a short drabble for Kinktober, but here we are with 5K instead *sigh*. I'll try better with the rest of them. In the meantime, very cheesy erotica ahead with limited plot.

This was the end of your first week at Yoonmin Corp., the new leaders in tech in your city. The CEO’s had taken the city by storm, and you had been quick to grab a job with the promising company.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and indigo, as you emerged from the sleek glass doors of Yoonmin Corp headquarters. A warm breeze, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine, ruffled your hair as you made your way down the broad stone steps. The past five days had passed in an exhilarating blur of meetings, presentations, and dazzling technological displays that left your mind reeling.

Whispers swirled around the enigmatic CEO duo, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, who had burst onto the scene mere months ago. With their disruptive innovations and magnetic charisma, they were the talk of every social circle and business journal in the city. Rumors abounded of their rapid rise, unconventional methods, and the secrets that surely lay behind those piercing gazes and seductive smiles.

Wait. Maybe you hadn't intended to think that last phrase, but it lingered in your mind like a persistent itch. Piercing and seductive? Yes, that fits. Because that had been your only issue with this place. Well, not so much an issue as a mystery.

Since the moment you sat at the desk in front of their glass office, you’d felt like prey. Their eyes always watching you, one or the other finding a reason to stride out of their office like panthers to “chat” with you at your desk. And one very memorable moment where you’d caught them making out in their office and Yoongi had stared you down the entire time. 

You shake your head, trying to clear yourself of the strange thoughts. As you reached the bottom of the steps, a sleek black car with tinted windows glided to a stop at the curb. The door swung open, and a handsome man in a tailored suit stepped out, inclining his head to you.

"Good evening. Mr. Min and Mr. Park request your presence." His rich baritone sent a shiver down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slid into the plush leather backseat, the door closing with a muted click. The interior was dimly lit, all polished wood and gleaming chrome. Across from you lounged the infamous CEOs themselves, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, shadows playing across their striking features. What the hell could you have done already? Not to mention you were clocked out for the day.

"Thank you for joining us," Yoongi purred, his cat-like eyes glinting in the low light. "We've been watching you this week. Your...potential intrigues us."

Jimin leaned forward, his perfectly styled hair falling artfully over his brow. The spicy scent of his cologne filled the air between you, making your pulse race even faster. 

"You've exceeded all expectations. Your brilliance, your dedication...and perhaps other qualities as well." His gaze drifted languidly over your form, a smirk playing at the corner of his full lips.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure under the intensity of their stares. The car purred to life and pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon beyond the tinted glass. 

"I'm flattered, but I'm not sure I understand. What exactly are you looking for from me outside of my regular duties?"

Yoongi chuckled, a low, velvety sound that seemed to resonate in your bones. He exchanged a loaded glance with Jimin, their eyes glittering with unspoken promises. 

"We have a special project in mind. One that requires someone with your unique combination of intellect, discretion, and...allure."

Jimin's fingertips grazed your knee, the brief contact searing through the thin fabric of your slacks. 

"It's not the sort of thing we can discuss at the office. Too many prying eyes and ears. We have a private penthouse where we prefer to handle our most sensitive business."

The car turned down a narrow side street, the buildings towering above you like sentinels guarding forbidden secrets. Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of their words sank in.

 "This project...it's not entirely professional, is it?"

Yoongi's lips curved into a wicked smile. 

"Clever and perceptive. I knew we chose well." He leaned back, draping an arm across the seat. "No, this venture is of a more...intimate nature."

Jimin's hand slid higher up your thigh, his touch light but deliberate. 

"We've built an empire on pushing boundaries and shattering expectations. In business, and in pleasure." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "There are no limits to the heights we can reach together."

Your skin prickled with heat, every nerve alight. This was insane. Reckless. Yet the magnetic pull of their power and sensuality was undeniable.

 "And if I refuse?"

"Then we return you to your little desk, no questions asked," Yoongi replied smoothly. "But I don't think you will. I think you crave something more. Something extraordinary." His eyes bored into yours, stripping away your defenses layer by layer.

The car slowed to a stop and the driver opened the door. You stepped out onto a private underground parking garage, your legs unsteady beneath you. Yoongi and Jimin emerged like twin shadows, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

"Come," Jimin coaxed, offering his hand. "Let us show you the world that awaits."

Heart thundering against your ribs, you placed your trembling fingers in his warm palm. His grip was firm, confident, as he led you to a private elevator. Yoongi pressed a code, and the doors slid open with a hushed whoosh.

Inside, the air crackled with tension. Jimin's body was a hair's breadth from yours, his heat seeping into your skin.

The elevator ascended swiftly, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and trepidation. Jimin's thumb traced maddening circles on your palm, each caress sending sparks racing up your arm and down your spine. Yoongi leaned against the mirrored wall, his hooded gaze devouring your every reaction.

With a soft chime, the doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking panorama of the glittering cityscape below. Sleek, modern furnishings in shades of black and crimson filled the space, the décor dripping with decadence and sensual promise.

Yoongi's hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you into the room.

"Welcome to our private sanctuary," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "A place where we can indulge our deepest desires without restraint."

Your heart raced as you took in the opulent surroundings—the plush velvet couches, the gleaming marble bar, the massive bed draped in silk. Every detail whispered of luxury and temptation. Jimin circled around to face you, his eyes smoldering with unspoken promises.

"You're trembling," he observed, trailing a fingertip along your collarbone. "Is it nerves? Excitement?" His lips quirked. "Anticipation of what's to come?"

"All of the above," you managed, your voice breathy. The raw magnetism of these men was overwhelming, short-circuiting your rational mind. Jimin's fingertip dipped lower, grazing the swell of your breast through your thin blouse. Your nipples tightened, aching for his touch.

Yoongi moved behind you, his solid form pressing against your back. Strong hands settled on your hips, holding you captive between their bodies. 

"There's no need to be nervous," he purred, nuzzling the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "We'll take good care of you."

Jimin's nimble fingers released the top button of your blouse, then another, baring a tantalizing glimpse of lace-clad curves. 

"So beautiful," he praised, his gaze molten. "I've been imagining peeling you out of these prim little office clothes all week."

A moan caught in your throat as Yoongi's teeth grazed your earlobe, sending tingles racing across your sensitive skin. His hands slid from your hips to splay across your stomach, holding you firmly against the solid heat of his body.

"Let us worship you," he growled, his deep voice vibrating through you. "Let us show you pleasures you've only dreamed of."

Jimin finished unbuttoning your blouse and pushed it off your shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor. Cool air whispered across your overheated flesh, pebbling your exposed skin. His fingertips traced the scalloped edge of your lacy bra, dipping beneath the fabric to tease your aching nipples.

"Exquisite," he breathed, his eyes devouring you. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Your head fell back against Yoongi's shoulder as Jimin's fingers worked their magic, caressing and teasing your sensitive flesh. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, holding you steady as your knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught of sensation.

"So responsive," Yoongi purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you need it."

Jimin deftly unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms to join your blouse on the floor. His heated gaze raked over your exposed breasts, the naked hunger in his eyes making you throb with need.

"Perfection," he murmured, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "I could spend hours worshipping these alone."

A whimper escaped your lips as Jimin's thumbs circled your sensitive nipples, the rough pads igniting sparks of pleasure that shot straight to your core. Yoongi's hands slid lower, deftly unfastening your slacks and easing them over the curve of your hips. The brush of cool air against your bare thighs made you shiver, goosebumps racing across your skin.

"So soft," Yoongi growled appreciatively, his fingers skimming the lacy edge of your panties. "I can't wait to feel these silky thighs wrapped around my waist as I sink into your tight pussy."

His blunt words sent ripples to your core, dampening your panties, your need for them ratcheting higher with each passing second. Jimin's hands continued their sweet torment, rolling and plucking your stiff nipples.

Yoongi's fingers dipped beneath the delicate lace of your panties, grazing your slick, sensitive folds. A gasp tore from your throat at the electric contact, your hips bucking into his touch. 

"Already so wet for us," he purred, circling your aching clit with a featherlight caress. "I knew you'd be perfect."

Jimin's mouth replaced his fingers on your breasts, his clever tongue swirling around one taut peak before drawing it between his lips. He sucked deeply, sending shockwaves of bliss ricocheting through your body. Your hands tangled in his silky hair, holding him closer as he lavished your aching flesh with expert attention.

"Please," you whimpered, lost to the exquisite sensations they were unleashing. "I need..."

Yoongi's fingers delved deeper, parting your slick folds to tease your throbbing entrance. "Tell us what you need, baby," he coaxed, his voice a sinful rasp against your ear. "We want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, a heady mix of desire and embarrassment flooding through you. But the desperate ache between your thighs overrode any lingering shyness. 

"I need you inside me," you breathed, arching into his touch. "Both of you. Please..."

Jimin released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with lust as they met yours.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for us," he growled. In one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your trembling legs.

Cool air kissed your exposed flesh, making you gasp and shiver with need. Yoongi's fingers continued to tease your slick folds, circling your throbbing clit in maddening strokes. 

"So pretty," he purred, dipping one long finger inside your clenching heat. "I can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock."

Jimin kneeled before you, his heated gaze drinking in the sight of your bared pussy.

"Delectable," he murmured, hooking your thigh over his broad shoulder. "I'm going to devour this perfect cunt until you scream for us, baby."

His scorching breath feathered over your sensitive flesh a moment before his wicked tongue delved between your folds. A broken moan tore from your throat as he lapped at your dripping slit, the velvet caress of Jimin's tongue against your most intimate flesh sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. Your hips bucked forward, seeking more of that exquisite friction as he laved your throbbing clit with firm, deliberate strokes.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi purred in your ear, his fingers continuing their maddening tease of your slick entrance. "Let him taste how sweet you are. How desperate for our touch."

Jimin growled against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making you cry out and clutch at his hair. He sealed his lips around your aching bud, suckling deeply as he worked two fingers inside your clenching channel. Your inner muscles gripped him greedily, drawing him deeper into your molten core.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jimin groaned, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. "I can't wait to feel this perfect pussy squeezing my cock."

Yoongi's hand slid up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hardness against the curve of your ass. 

"So fucking responsive," he rasped, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "I knew you'd be perfect for us the moment I laid eyes on you."

Their dual assault on your senses was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards the edge. Jimin's fingers curled inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His tongue flicked rapid fire against your clit, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi growled, his hips grinding against your ass in time with Jimin’s movements.

Jimin's wicked tongue swirled faster over your swollen clit as his fingers thrust deeper, stroking that spot inside you that made your legs tremble. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, your pussy clenching around his pumping digits.

"Gonna come for us, sweet thing?" Yoongi purred, roughly palming your breasts. "Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze Jimin's fingers when you let go?"

His filthy words and the relentless pleasure from Jimin's talented mouth shoved you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of ecstasy, a loud moan tearing from your throat as your inner walls spasmed. Jimin groaned against your throbbing flesh, lapping up your gushing release.

"Fuck, you taste incredible," he rasped, continuing to lick you slowly, drawing out your climax until you were a whimpering, trembling mess in their arms. Finally, he released you with a final slow lick, his eyes burning into yours as he rose to his feet.

"Exquisite," he murmured, his lips glistening with your juices. "I could feast on this sweet pussy for hours."

Yoongi's hands skimmed down your sides to grip your hips, holding you steady as Jimin claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, the filthy eroticism making you throb with renewed need.

"My turn," Yoongi growled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. "I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you forget your own name."

In a dizzying whirl of motion, Yoongi spun you around to face him, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained lust. His soft lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. You melted against the hard planes of his body, your hands fisting in the silky fabric of his shirt.

Jimin pressed against your back, his teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his nimble fingers unzipped Yoongi's slacks.

"I want to watch you take her," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Want to see that big cock splitting her open as well as it does me.”

Yoongi groaned into your mouth, his hand tangling in your hair to angle your head for a deeper kiss. Jimin's hands pushed Yoongi's pants down his hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. Your eyes widened at the impressive size, a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine.

"Like what you see, baby?" Yoongi purred, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft and giving it a slow pump. "This is all for you. Every hard inch."

Jimin's fingers danced down your stomach to tease your slick folds once more.

"She's dripping wet and ready for you, Yoongi," he murmured, circling your sensitive clit. "I can feel how much she needs that big cock."

Yoongi walked you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the plush bed. He lowered you down onto the silk sheets, his larger body covering yours. The heat of his skin seared into you as he settled between your spread thighs, the thick length of his erection nestling against your slick folds.

"Going to fill this tight little pussy so deep," Yoongi growled, nipping at your lower lip. "Gonna make you scream on my cock."

Jimin climbed onto the bed behind Yoongi, his hands skimming possessively over the taut muscles of his partner's back. 

"Do it," he urged, his voice husky with need. "Claim her. Make her ours."

With a flex of his hips, Yoongi drove forward, impaling you on his thick shaft in one powerful thrust. A cry tore from your throat as Yoongi's thick cock stretched you deliciously, filling you to the brink. Your slick walls clenched around his pulsing hardness, your body struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. Yoongi groaned, his jaw clenching as he fought for control.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he grated out, his hips drawing back before snapping forward again. "So fucking tight and wet around my cock."

Your nails raked down his back as he set a deep, driving rhythm, each powerful thrust hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Jimin's hands roamed over both of you, his touch electric against your own overheated skin.

"She takes you so well," Jimin purred, his lips brushing Yoongi's ear.

Yoongi's hips pistoned faster, pounding into your willing body with increasing force. The obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and the men's harsh breaths. Jimin's fingers found your aching clit, rubbing tight circles around the throbbing nub in time with Yoongi's relentless thrusts.

"That's it, take his cock," Jimin growled, pinching your clit and making you cry out. "Let him fuck you senseless. Your pussy was made for us."

The dual stimulation rapidly pushed you towards another peak, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around Yoongi's driving shaft. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your slick heat squeezed him like a vice.

"Gonna come on my cock, baby?" he rasped, swiveling his hips to grind with every deep stroke. "Want to feel this sweet pussy milk me dry."

His filthy words combined with Jimin's skillful fingers catapulted you over the edge. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins as you clenched vice-tight around Yoongi's plunging cock.

"Fuck, yes!" Yoongi roared, his own release overtaking him as your fluttering walls massaged his shaft. He buried himself to the hilt, his thick cock jerking as he emptied himself deep inside you.

Jimin stroked you both through the aftershocks, his touch gentling as the waves of bliss gradually subsided. Yoongi collapsed against you, his heavy breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin. You clung to his broad shoulders, your body trembling with the force of your release.

After a long moment, Yoongi rolled to the side, slipping out of your tender flesh with a hiss. Jimin immediately took his place, settling between your still-quivering thighs. His dark eyes raked over your flushed face and heaving breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lips.

"My turn," he purred, the tip of his rigid cock nudging your slick entrance. "I've been aching to feel you stretched around me."

With a slow, deliberate flex of his hips, Jimin pushed forward, his shorter but thicker length gliding through your slick folds and into your waiting heat. A low moan escaped your kiss-swollen lips as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your sensitive walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

"God, you feel amazing," Jimin groaned, bottoming out inside you. He stilled for a moment, savoring the exquisite feel of your tight sheath gripping him like a velvet glove. "I knew you'd be perfect for us. Gonna keep you, I think."

Yoongi's fingertips skated over your nipples, the light touch reigniting the embers of your desire. 

"Such a good girl, taking us so well," he praised, rolling the pebbled nubs between his fingers. "We're going to ruin you for anyone else."

Jimin began to move, his hips rolling in a smooth, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He angled his thrusts to drag deliberately over that sensitive spot inside you with each stroke, sending sparks of electric pleasure zigzagging through your nerves. Your hands slid over the defined muscles of his back, feeling them flex and ripple beneath your touch as he worked your body with expert skill.

"You're so sensitive," Jimin purred, circling his hips to grind his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. "I can feel your pussy clenching every time I hit that sweet spot. You were made to take our cocks, weren't you baby?"

His dirty talk made you clench hard around him, a needy whimper escaping your throat. Yoongi chuckled darkly, his fingers reaching up to lightly grasp your neck. Not squeezing yet—merely a promise and a question all in one.

Yoongi's fingers tightened ever so slightly around your throat, the pressure making your pulse pound and your pussy clench hard around Jimin's pistoning cock. Jimin immediately groaned lustily, and Yoongi smirked, his dark eyes boring into yours and promising filthy delights.

"That's it, squeeze his cock," Yoongi growled. "Show him how much you love being stuffed full and used for our pleasure."

Jimin's rhythm faltered, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your slick walls massaged his plunging shaft.

"Fuck, keep doing that," he panted, his hips snapping faster. "Milk my cock with that greedy little cunt."

The erotic depravity of being caught between them, subject to their darkest whims and basest needs, sent you hurtling towards another overwhelming climax.

Yoongi's fingers on your throat, Jimin's thick cock pounding into your soaked heat, their filthy words filling your ears—it was all too much, too intense. The coil of tension inside you wound tighter and tighter with each skilled thrust and deliberate squeeze.

"Such a good little cock sleeve," Yoongi purred, his fingers flexing around your neck. "Taking us so well, letting us use this tight body however we want. You're ours now, baby. All ours."

Jimin changed his angle, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed as a scream tore from your throat, your cunt clamping down like a vise around Jimin's cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Jimin grunted, sweat beading his brow as he fought to maintain his punishing rhythm through your clenching heat. "Gonna make me come so hard; fill this pussy up till it's leaking."

His words combined with the mind-blowing pleasure radiating from where he was so deeply embedded inside you sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, your vision whiting out as your body convulsed around him. A hoarse cry ripped from your chest as you shattered.

Yoongi's fingers spasming around your throat intensified your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. Jimin buried himself to the hilt with a guttural shout, his hips jerking erratically as his own powerful climax overtook him. You felt the hot spurts of his release painting your fluttering walls, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your clenching heat.

"Fuck, baby, fuck!" Jimin groaned, his face contorting in ecstasy as your rippling channel milked him for every last drop.

You writhed beneath him, lost to the overwhelming sensations wracking your limp, sated body. Yoongi's fingers gentled on your neck, rubbing soothing circles over your hammering pulse.

Jimin collapsed against you, his weight a welcome blanket as you both trembled and panted, fighting to catch your breath in the aftermath of your explosive climaxes. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the finger-shaped marks Yoongi's grip had left behind.

"So perfect for us," Jimin murmured, his voice raspy with satisfaction. "Our beautiful little baby."

Yoongi's fingers carded through your damp hair, his touch gentling as he coaxed you down from the overwhelming high. 

"You exceeded every expectation," he praised, his lips brushing your temple. "I knew you would be exquisite, but the reality is beyond even my wildest imaginings."

You floated in a haze of blissful afterglow, your body limp and sated between their bodies.

Yoongi's hand smoothed over your hip as Jimin gently withdrew from your sensitive core. A whimper escaped your lips at the loss, your body clenching around emptiness. Jimin pressed a tender kiss to your collarbone before settling beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your sweat-dampened skin.

"Rest now, sweet thing," Yoongi murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in your ear. "You've more than earned it after that performance."

You nuzzled into his warm chest, your heavy lids drifting closed as exhaustion pulled at your consciousness. A small, distant part of your mind buzzed with the implications of what you had just done—the line you had so eagerly and thoroughly crossed with your dangerously alluring bosses.

But the thoughts were hazy, slippery, unable to find purchase in your blissed-out mind. Enveloped by Yoongi and Jimin's warm, solid bodies, you let yourself drift, sinking into the decadent comfort of satin sheets and sated muscles.

"Sleep, baby," Jimin cooed, his plush lips grazing your shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Always."

The promise in his words seeped into your bones, chasing away the last tendrils of doubt.

You woke gradually, your body languid and heavy against smooth silk sheets. Confusion muddled your thoughts for a long moment before the memories of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail—Yoongi and Jimin's magnetic pull, the all-consuming passion, the indescribable pleasure. A deep flush crept up your neck to your cheeks as you recalled the wanton way you had responded to their every touch and filthy word.

***

Soft sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting the opulent bedroom in a warm glow. You were alone in the massive bed, the rumpled sheets beside you cool to the touch. Distant sounds drifted from another room—the clatter of dishes, the rich aroma of coffee. Yoongi and Jimin's deep voices murmured too low for you to make out the words.

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, wincing slightly at the delicious ache between your thighs. The evidence of last night's passionate activities painted your body with beautiful bruises, a visceral reminder of how thoroughly they had claimed you.

Biting your lip, you slid from the bed, the plush carpet soft beneath your bare feet. A silk robe was draped over a nearby armchair, and you slipped it on, the cool fabric whispering over your sensitized skin. Hesitantly, you padded out of the bedroom, following the intoxicating scent of coffee and the rumble of masculine voices.

The open concept living area took your breath away—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek modern furniture in shades of black and chrome, a gourmet kitchen with gleaming marble countertops.

And there, leaning against the island with mugs in hand, were Yoongi and Jimin, both shirtless and breathtaking in the morning light. Their heads were bent close together, their expressions serious as they spoke in hushed tones. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight of them; memories of their hands and mouths on your body making heat pool low in your belly.

As if sensing your presence, they looked up simultaneously, their gazes locking onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. Identical slow, sensual smiles curved their lips as they raked their eyes over your silk-clad form.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jimin purred, setting his mug aside and prowling towards you with feline grace. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things, I hope," you managed, your voice emerging huskier than intended.

Jimin reached you, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you close. "Only the best," he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle your neck. "How deliciously responsive you were, how exquisite you looked lost in pleasure, how perfect you felt wrapped around us..."

A shiver raced down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his nearness, his touch, his scent. Yoongi approached more slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked promise.

"We were discussing your future with us," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in your bones. "Last night was only the beginning, sweet thing. A test, of sorts. One you passed with flying colors."

Your heart raced, anticipation and trepidation warring within you. "What do you mean? What kind of future?"

Yoongi reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek in a featherlight caress. "The kind of future where you belong to us, in every sense of the word." His gaze burned into you, stripping you bare. "Your mind, your body, your soul—all ours to mold and worship as we see fit."

Your breath hitched, equal parts arousal and unease swirling in your gut. "I don't understand. I thought this was just...a one-time thing. A bit of fun." Even as the words left your lips, you knew they rang hollow. The connection you felt with these men, the intensity of what you had shared, was too profound to be so easily dismissed.

Jimin's hands slid up your sides, his touch searing through the thin silk. "Oh, baby," he purred.

His lips curved into a sensual smile against your ear. "You're far too special to be just a 'bit of fun', darling. From the moment we saw you, we knew you were meant to be ours. I know we said it last night, but we meant it." His fingers trailed along your collarbone, igniting sparks beneath your skin.

Yoongi stepped closer, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face towards his intense gaze. 

"We intend to claim you, completely and irrevocably," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "To bring you into our world and show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings."

A shiver raced down your spine, the dark promise in his words making your knees weak. "What does that mean? What world?" Your voice wavered, apprehension and intrigue warring within you.

Jimin's arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid warmth of his chest. 

"A world of power, luxury, and decadence," he purred. "One where your deepest, darkest desires become reality." His lips grazed the shell of your ear. "With us, there are no limits, no taboos. Only pleasure."

Yoongi's hand slid into your hair, his fingers flexing possessively. "We want to give you everything," he murmured. "All you have to do is say yes. Give yourself to us, completely."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, their words awakening a hunger inside you that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew, instinctively, that if you agreed, there would be no going back. They would consume you, body and soul.

But oh, how tempting it was.

“Yes.” 

***

If you've made this far, congrats and I hope you didn't sneer too much. Also, I don't know if you noticed, but I tried to write this so that these three will be my main pairs for the rest of kinktober. So anything else I write will be these guys exploring kinks together.

[coeurcanelle]

Hold my heart even if it's cold pt1

pairing: surfer!ellie x reader

fluff,sad ending

you want to try a new sport to fight boredom this summer. You meet Ellie who's a surfer. She teaches you how to ride the waves but not how to fight their embrace

The waves rose and fell, their rhythm steady like the beating of a heart. The sun kissed the horizon, spilling liquid gold across the ocean’s surface. Among the endless blue, she stood, a silhouette against the shimmering expanse, balanced gracefully on her board. Every movement was poetry in motion — the curve of her body as she leaned into a wave, the spray of water cascading like diamonds when she turned.

You watched from the shore, your toes buried in the cool sand.

The wind tugged at her auburn hair, and you squinted against the sun’s brilliance to follow the surfer’s form. There was something hypnotic about her, something magnetic. She wasn’t just riding the waves; she was part of them, as though the ocean itself had chosen her.

You gathered all the courage you could muster, determined not to let another boring summer slip by. Not when the sun above promised brighter days, and certainly not when the chance to meet someone as talented as her had just appeared before you.

She emerged from the water, shaking her hair free of droplets. A few specks splashed onto your swimsuit.

With your heart pounding, you finally asked, "Teach you? I've never taught anyone before. Are you a beginner? Never ridden a wave at all?"

Her emerald eyes locked with yours, searching for the reason behind your request.

"I know how to swim."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, her smile both warm and knowing. Not only was she amazing, but her voice had a melody all its own.

"I mean, we all start somewhere," she said, setting her surfboard down beside her, then scratching behind her neck.

Surfing was her passion, but she’d never shared it with anyone. Too precious, too personal.

"Please, I can pay you if you want. 10 per hour?"

She caught the hint of desperation in your voice, and you winced inwardly, realizing the first impression you were giving this cool surfer.

"10?" she laughed. "That’s all I get?"

"That’s all I have..." you lied. Of course, you had more, but you hadn’t expected to spend so much of your money on surfing lessons when you woke up this morning.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"15?" you suggested, but she crossed her arms, unimpressed.

Was she really that thirsty for money?

"20?" you sighed, mentally counting how much would vanish from your wallet by the end of the afternoon.

"Deal."

A weight lifted from your chest in relief as she extended her hand. You shook it firmly.

It wasnt a waste of money. It was the promise of good times and new timeless memories.

You waded in together, the waves curling around you like curious whispers.

She told you her name was Ellie. She talked you through the basics, her voice a soothing cadence against the crash of the surf. You wobbled on the board, your balance shaky, but Ellie was always there, steadying you with a hand on your arm or an encouraging smile.

A wave was forming a bit further out ,Ellie's eyes sparkled with excitement. The adrenaline rushing through her veins and her heart plumping with anticipation. She never got enough of this feeling.

"Ready to do this one ?" She turned to you with a smirk.

The wave wasn’t going to get too big—perfect for a beginner like you to put the theories she’d taught you into practice.

You nodded and shot back a smirk,matching her energy.

"Remember,just relax and dont think about it too much."she laid flat on her board and began paddling toward the wave,you mirrored her,your heart beating with anticipation and a tiny bit of nervousness. "And if you don't succeed now you can....succeed later than originally planned"

You could tell she wasn’t sure how to ease the weight pressing on your chest, but the intention behind her words made your heart feel lighter, warm against the chill of the water.

"It’s just a small wave, not a tsunami."

She chuckled, her smile growing wider. "I know, I’m just saying."

You paddled harder, the rhythm of your strokes matching the beat of your pulse. As the wave came closer, you could feel the swell beneath you, a force of nature that was both thrilling and intimidating. Ellie surged ahead, her body leaning into the wave with confidence. She was a perfect blend of grace and power, carving through the water like it was second nature.

You followed suit, catching the wave, your board gliding smoothly as it picked up speed. The water rushed beneath you, the world narrowing into just you and the wave. For a split second, you felt the magic of it—like you were one with the ocean, the wave supporting you as you moved with it.

But then, as the wave began to crest, you lost your balance, your feet shifting too late. The board wobbled beneath you, and before you knew it, you were tumbling into the water.

You resurfaced, breathless but okay, your arms floating back to the board as you admired Ellie. She was still on the wave, her movements fluid and effortless, carving her way down the line like she owned the ocean.

It felt so natural for her, feeling the force of the waves beneath her feet propulsing her forwards. No matter how much she's lost in her life,she still believed in the unbreakable bond she had with the ocean.

She finished her ride, then paddled back toward you, her grin wide. "Just a small wave, huh?"

The hours slipped by effortlessly, and you wouldn’t mind if they stretched into days. Ellie gave you more tips, sharing everything she wished she had known as a beginner.

Watching you struggle to stay steady on the board reminded her of her early days surfing, when each fall made her swear she’d quit. But seeing you laugh, your unwavering determination to learn, made her want to teach you everything she knew about the ocean.

One day, she'd take you to her favorite spots on the beach, but for now, it was time for you to go. Every great moment had its bittersweet end.

"That's gonna make 60 for you. For three hours," she said, grinning.

You stopped in your tracks, turning toward her. "What?"

"Twenty bucks an hour, you said." You thought she was joking about that earlier.

"Oh, right—the money." You walked back out of the water, sitting down on the beach before reaching for your bag and pulling out your wallet.

It was filled with an unnecessary amount of coins, but the bills were another story.

"Are you sure that’s 60?" you asked, looking up at her with an apologetic smile, hoping for a discount.

"Well, two times three equals six, and if you add a zero, that makes sixty." You rolled your eyes at her teasing tone.

"Five-year-old math," she shrugged, her smirk returning.

You didn't know she could be such a tease.

"Isn’t that too much money for you?"

Her smirk widened into a smile as she laughed.

"Too much?"

It was short, but it sounded so good—light and soothing, like wind chimes in a summer breeze.

Her eyes dropped to your hand, still holding your wallet. "Just say you wanted to steal from me."

Your eyes widened. That wasn’t your intention at all. All you wanted was to have fun and learn something new. And Ellie had been so kind in teaching you. Getting into trouble now, when you’d just met her, was the last thing you wanted.

"Noo, I just don’t have that much right now. I promise I’ll pay you back," you said, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue or, worse, tell you to never come back to learn surfing again.

She looked at you, and this time, you couldn’t read her expression.

Did you mess up that badly?

Then the silence broke, and she laughed again.

"What’s so funny?" you asked, your confusion only making her laugh harder.

"I don’t care about money," she said, a playful glint in her eyes. "I was just messing with you."

She finally stopped laughing, and you met her gaze, searching for any trace of sarcasm or mischief.

"You weren’t laughing at my misery?"

Ellie blinked in surprise. Her? Laughing at you being broke?

"What? No—I'm not like that. Really, I was just messing with you. It’s free. You don’t owe me anything," she reassured you, noticing the way you were studying her. It seemed you were falling harder than she had expected.

"For real?" you asked, still unsure.

"Yeah, you don’t need to pay me." Ellie shrugged. Usually, people would get her jokes easily but if you were that easy to fool, she won't stop with you.

You sighed in relief and put your wallet back in your purse. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun for free. But now, the sun was dipping low, making way for the moon and a fresh night.

Ellie stood there, waiting until you were ready to leave. She didn’t want this moment to fade too quickly into a memory. She wanted to see you again.

"Tomorrow? Same time?" she suggested, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

You smiled, realizing you’d get to spend time with her again.

"Only for free."

You winked at her as you said goodbye, leaving her standing there.

To Ellie, this wasn’t really free. Your charm, the way you made her heart flutter, cost more than anything.

And that was enough for her.

♧°♧°♧

It quickly became a habit—the thrill of riding the waves and the quiet joy of spending time with the freckled-face girl.

Afternoon after afternoon, Ellie would offer little tips to help you improve your balance, and once you had the basics down, she'd teach you how not to let the waves carry you away.

Each day, you learned more—not only about mastering the surf but about the ocean itself. She showed you how to listen to the whispers of the water beneath you, how to sense the ebb and flow of the tides before they even began to form.

“See that?” she asked, her voice calm but excited. “The waves are forming closer together, and the water’s pulling back faster than usual. That’s a sign of a high tide coming in.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to see what she saw. She smiled happy to freely share her passions knowing you wouldnt judge her in return. Seeing the pure interest shining in your eyes filled an empty spot she didnt know existed in her heart.

“Feel this?” she said dipping her hand in the water. “It’s cooler here, near the surface. That means the tide’s pushing deeper currents upward. And see how the waves get steeper, almost like they’re rushing to the shore? That’s because the water level’s rising. It’s like the ocean’s inhaling.”

You tilted your head, amazed by her ability to read the water like a book. “How do you know all this?”

She chuckled softly, her freckles catching the golden light. “I’ve been watching the ocean my whole life. It talks to you if you’re willing to listen. The way it moves, the way it feels—it’s like it’s letting you in on a secret. You just have to pay attention.”

From then on, every wave, every pull of the current, felt like a story waiting to be told. And with Ellie as your guide, you began to understand that the ocean wasn’t just a force to conquer—it was something to connect with, to respect, to love.

Soon, your laughter shifted into sighs of exasperation. Normally, you would have packed up your things and left the beach, thanking her for the private lessons before heading home.

But when she saw you pulling your clothes over your swimsuit, gathering your towel and bag, ready to go, she felt the sting of missing you already.

So, she offered to buy you a drink at the beachside bar—anything to keep you there just a little longer before the day slipped away into memory.

You didn’t even notice when the moon began taking the sun’s place as you sat with her, listening to stories of her early days as a surfer—the shadows of her struggles and the light of her triumphs. You forgot the soft, rhythmic crash of the waves, their sound melting into the melody of her laughter, or the way her voice would rise with excitement and pure delight.

You never imagined someone could be as beautiful as the ocean, as radiant as the sun, and that this same person would take an interest in someone like you.

Ellie was both a talker and a listener.

She’d rest her head on her hand, listening intently as you spoke about life beyond summer, the weight of your studies, and the dull rhythm of university days. Then, she’d watch your eyes light up when you talked about the hobbies that kept you going.

She’d lift her head, her smile reaching from ear to ear, as she shared that she loved the same things.

It wasn’t hard to make her smile.

But it was almost impossible not to let your heart melt when you saw it.

And soon, you found yourself lost in it—lost in her words as she wandered off into stories about her collection of PS4 games and the list of new ones she still wanted to play.

You could listen to her talk for hours. You weren’t exaggerating. She had that rare ability to talk about anything and somehow make it sound fascinating. But soon, Ellie ran out of things to say, and she didn’t want the silence to settle between you like an awkward wave.

Then, out of nowhere, a joke she had heard long ago popped into her head.

You raised an eyebrow as you watched her suddenly turn away, her body shaking as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your hand instinctively finding its way to her back.

She turned back to you, meeting your concerned and confused gaze. She bit her lip, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Yeah, I just thought of something. Sorry."

You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms instead. "Are you going to spill the tea or keep laughing like a psycho who forgot to take their meds?"

And then you heard it again. Her melodic laugh, this time louder and a bit goofier. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about your ridiculous falls earlier, every time you wiped out on the smallest wave.

"It’s really stupid," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I don’t even remember where I heard it."

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile,wanting to hear the stupidest sentence slipping through her lips.

"Okay..." she said, finally calming herself down, clearing her throat as if gathering every ounce of willpower to keep her words from turning into gibberish.

"Why did uranus start a diet?"Her smile was widening by the second.

You heard something else.

"My what?"you asked.

She couldn't hold it back any longer, and the genuine confusion on your face only made it worse.

"The planet ! Oh my god" she corrected, and this time, you joined in the laughter. You really should head home and get some sleep—tomorrow’s instructions would be hard to understand if you kept this up.

"The planet," she repeated, still chuckling, determined to finish the joke. "Uranus. Why did it start a diet?"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "I don’t know..."

"Because it was tired of its gas-tronomic problem!" The pitch of her voice rose, and the effect was immediate.

You both couldn’t stop laughing. Her laughter was so contagious, and the whole scene played back in your mind like a loop. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the alcohol, or just her, but your laughter blended together, unstoppable.

This caught the attention of the bartender and other random people, who were quietly enjoying their drinks. You stopped, feeling their eyes on you, whispers rising as you disturbed the quiet atmosphere.

Ellie gradually calmed herself, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Why, of all things, were you thinking about this now?" you asked, earning a final chuckle from her.

"At least I’m keeping the conversation going," she said, finishing the last of her drink. You couldn’t help but notice the graceful movement of her neck as she swallowed.

"You have terrible jokes," you teased.

"It only gets worse," she replied, reaching for another bottle. She poured both your glasses, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Wanna hear another one?"

This was going to be a long night.

♧°♧°♧

You were a fast learner—Ellie herself had told you so. With each day, you grew more confident on the board. Your falls became rarer, and the number of waves you rode successfully increased steadily. You might not be as skilled as Ellie yet, but it was enough to convince you to take surfing seriously.

So, instead of renting surfboards by the beach, you decided to buy one for yourself.

"Does green go better with blue or pink?" you asked, eyeing the display of surfboards before you. Ellie’s board was green, and you wanted to match with hers.

"I don’t know… blue?" she replied, standing beside you. She hadn’t been so picky when she bought her own board. To her, it was all about durability and the ability to flow with the water.

But she noticed you were considering more than just practicality. The boards now seemed to carry a higher standard in your eyes.

"I'll get pink, then," you decided, grabbing the pink surfboard in front of you, already imagining the rush of riding high with her by your side.

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Why’d you ask me if you already made your choice?"

"Just wanted to see if you had good taste," you smirked, turning toward the cashier.

"Green goes with blue. I’ll die with that on my grave," she said, shaking her head.

You paid and left the shop with Ellie, mentally noting not to rely on her color advice in the future.

With a teacher like Ellie, there was no room for regression—your skills grew steadily, carving a flawless path of progress.

You finally understood why she loved it so much.

In just a few weeks,surfing had become your own kind of addiction, a rush you couldn’t imagine leaving behind when summer ended. The roar of the waves, the electric pull of their power, and the art of dancing in their embrace—no matter how often you did it, it never lost its magic.

As excitement rushed through your veins,you grabbed your handbag and your towel,parking your car near the beach and walking to your usual spot with your surfboard in hand.

There she was,right where she belonged.

Ellie floated above the water as though she were part of it, her auburn hair catching the breeze and glowing under the sunlight.

She’d just conquered a high tide, her board slicing through the foam with precision, and now the ocean was building something bigger, something grander.

Her eyes swept over the beach, briefly searching. She didn’t need long to find you. You were always there, never late, planted firmly on the sand, captivated by the freckled-face girl who seemed born for the waves.

Spotting you, Ellie flashed her trademark smirk, the one she knew kept your gaze locked on her. With practiced ease, she stretched out on her board, her movements deliberate and smooth as she began paddling toward the rising wall of water.

As the wave loomed behind her, its crest curling into a powerful arc, Ellie positioned herself perfectly. The water surged forward, and she caught it effortlessly, standing in a smooth motion. Her balance was flawless as the wave seemed to rise around her, towering and mighty.

Ellie moved with it as if she were one with the tide.

She carved sharp turns into the water, each motion sending sprays of foam into the air, the sunlight catching every droplet.

For a breathtaking moment, she disappeared into the wave’s barrel, only to emerge flying out the other side, her board skimming the surface like it had wings.

She rode it all the way to the shore, coming to a slow stop just in front of you, careful not to splash your swimsuit. Water glistened on her skin as she shot you a playful grin.

"are you gonna join me or what?"she asked the thrill of her ride subsiding with the soft crushes of the waves behind her. Her eyes trailed down your body,before landing on your hand.

She took it, fingers intertwining with yours, pulling you toward the water, but you stopped her. "C’mon."

"The water's cold. Gotta wait"you protested

"Seriously?"She groaned rolling her eyes her impatience growing by the second.

The small waves reached your ankles, their cold touch sending a shiver through you.

But Ellie didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, she pointed behind you with her free hand. "Seagulls!"

You turned around, but there were no seagulls. By the time you realized, she had scooped you up in her arms and was running toward the cold water.

"Ellie! Wait, plea-"

Bubbled came out of your mouth as she threw you into the water.

It was cold,enveloping you instantly, stealing the warmth from your skin in a shocking embrace. For a moment, everything was muffled—your gasp, the roar of the waves—but as you resurfaced, the sound of Ellie’s laughter broke through, loud and unapologetic.

She was doubled over, clutching her stomach as she pointed at you.

“What the fuck, Ellie?!” you sputtered, water streaming down your face.

“You said you had to wait,” she teased, barely able to speak through her laughter. “Figured you’d wait less if you were already in!” With that, she sent a playful splash of water your way.

Cold water.

"I'm gonna kill you"

"Woah im so so sca-"

Before she could react, you lunged, grabbing at her arm. She shrieked and laughed as you pulled her into the water with you, the two of you tumbling into the waves in a chaotic splash.

Ellie broke free, scrambling and half-swimming away as you burst into laughter.

The chase brought you deeper into the waves, where your feet could no longer touch the sandy bottom. The cool water tugged at your legs, a mix of resistance and freedom, as you propelled yourself toward Ellie. She glanced back, her grin widening as she realized you were closing in.

“got you !" you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around her waist.

Ellie let out a startled laugh, struggling to stay upright as your combined weight threatened to pull you both under.

Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as you both wrestled, a tangle of arms and legs, splashing and twisting to stay afloat. Every time you tried to find balance, another wave would crash over you, dragging you apart for a moment before you reconnected with a grip on her arm or shoulder.

“Ellie, I swear—” you sputtered between breaths, fighting to keep your head above water.

“I’m trying to breathe!” she choked out, laughing so hard she had to tread water just to stay up. “This is your fault!”

“My fault? You threw me in!”

The banter dissolved into giggles that turned frantic as your legs began to protest the effort. The ocean wasn’t forgiving to tired muscles, and the playful thrashing became slower, less coordinated.

“Okay, okay, truce,” Ellie said, her voice tinged with exhaustion but still light.

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling your legs give out beneath you.

Ellie grabbed your hand, and together you turned toward the shore, letting the waves push you gently forward. It wasn’t far, but each stroke felt heavier, the promise of solid ground pulling you on.

Finally, your feet brushed against the sand. Relief washed over you as you staggered out of the water, Ellie following close behind. The two of you collapsed onto the shore, the cool breeze contrasting with the warmth returning to your bodies.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just staring up at the clear sky, catching your breath. Then Ellie turned her head to look at you, her freckles standing out against her sun-kissed skin.

"Can't believe I almost died today because of you," you muttered, not tearing your eyes away from the vast sky above you.

"Dude, I just saved you. Would it kill you to say thanks?"

You didn’t respond—just to annoy her.

"Come on," Ellie whined, nudging your shoulder. You turned to her, her emerald eyes burning into yours, a challenge in them.

"Fine. Thank you. Just don't push me in the water when I’m not ready okay?" you said slowly, sitting up and brushing the sand from your body.

Her gaze lingered over you, taking in the soaked swimsuit, the wet strands of your hair, and the way your skin caught the light, glistening like something out of a dream. Only the tail was missing, but in that moment, she believed in mermaids.

She had to force herself to look away before she realized just how much you enchanted her. "Okay, okay. I won’t anymore. Promise."

She almost sealed it with a touch, reaching for your hand, but the moment she saw the soft smile tugging at your lips, a sudden shyness swept over her.

You didn’t need to be a mermaid to have her heart. And even if she lived in a world full of magic and fantasy, no alchemist’s strongest elixir could undo the way her heart raced for you.

Clearing her throat, she glanced away, trying to mask the spark dancing in her eyes. "Wouldn’t want you to drown and make me do mouth-to-mouth or anything."

A soft laugh escaped you, and she joined in, the sound blending with the rhythmic roll of the waves. The water, now gently lapping at your feet, wasn’t cold anymore—it was warm, almost comforting.

"Still cold?" she asked, standing and brushing the sand from her legs. Her eyes shone with impatience, a flicker of excitement dancing in them.

The waves weren’t going to ride themselves, after all.

"Nope," you replied, grabbing your surfboard and wading deeper into the water, following her as she paddled away from the shore.

You wouldn’t mind at all. If she had to do mouth-to-mouth to save you, you’d let the water pull you under willingly—just to feel the softness of her lips against yours.

But did she feel the pull too?

Maybe it was too soon to know.

Holding her heart felt like diving into the unknown, so for now, holding her hand as you both sailed through the waves was enough.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Fateful Love in Motion (Prologue)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

This is the story of a princess from a small country, trapped like a caged bird, who meets her destined partner.

(The day has finally come.)

I was walking down the mansion's corridor with a heavy heart.

(I really want to escape from here right now, but...)

The thought that the survival of my family rested on my shoulders made it difficult to abandon everything.

------------Flashback-----------

Father: "You are of marriageable age now. You need to get yourself a husband."

Mai: "What?"

A month ago, my father, with whom I had hardly interacted, suddenly summoned me and said that.

(He lived in a separate mansion and hasn't sent a single letter since my mother passed away.)

Mai: "I'm sorry, Father. I haven't been able to find a suitable partner yet."

Father: "Don't worry. I've chosen some excellent men for you."

(What's that supposed to mean?)

Father: "If there aren't enough guys, I'll bring in more. You can have as many men as you like."

Mai: "Wait! Why are you making such an important decision on your own?"

Mai: "Who are these 'excellent' men? And why are there several of them?"

Father: "You're my only child. It's better to have many to increase our bloodline."

Mai: "Are you saying I should take multiple husbands?"

Father: "Exactly."

(----!)

I felt the blood drain from my face, understanding the implication of my father's words.

Since I was an only child, I had been prepared to be told to bear children, but I never thought he'd use me like this.

(I don't want to be embraced by numerous men, and I don't want to be used as a political tool either.)

(But running away from Father would mean abandoning my responsibility as a princess.)

(If you ask me if I made the right decision...)

Father: "You're not going to argue with my decision, are you?"

Mai: "No, of course not."

Father: "Good, as long as you understand."

Father: "I’ve already gathered the men in a special mansion."

Father: "You will live with them and ensure our lineage by bearing children."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Thus, he prepared the mansion known as the "Ooku," where the men were staying.

(I wonder what kind of people these guys are.)

Vassal: "Princess, it's time!"

He shouted and instantly opened the door.

(Whoa!)

The brilliance was so overwhelming that it made my head spin.

Everywhere I looked, there were handsome gentlemen.

(There are so many of them!)

Despite feeling dizzy from nervousness, I somehow managed to make my way to the inner chamber.

I took my seat in the designated place, and the men of the Ōoku lined up in the hall.

Nobunaga: "So, you’re Princess Mai. I've heard about you."

Mai: "Y-Yes. And you are?"

Nobunaga: "I'm Nobunaga. I belong to the Seiya Group and oversee this Ōoku."

Mai: "Seiya Group?"

Yukimura: "Huh? Did you come here without knowing anything?"

Ranmaru: "It can't be helped. Lady Mai seems to have a lot going on in her life."

Shingen: "Well then, let's explain the workings of the Ooku briefly."

Kennyo: "First, let's explain the groups, then we can show you around the mansion."

Mai: "Groups? Are the roles divided based on kimono styles?"

Sasuke: "Exactly. Lady Mai, you're quite perceptive."

I received immediate praise and felt a little relieved.

Yoshimoto: "As you said, the Ōoku is divided into three groups."

Mitsunari: "Those dressed like me belong to the Seiya Group. We're responsible for internal affairs within the Ōoku."

Hideyoshi: "Those in the same attire as me belong to the Suimei Group. Primarily, we are your attendants."

Kanetsugu: "Wearing this attire makes us part of the Fūgetsu Group. Everyone here excels in the arts."

Mai: "I understand the roles in internal affairs and caretaking, but why arts?"

Ieyasu: "Why? To entertain you, of course."

Masamune: "Each of us must capture your heart with our talents."

Mai: "Huh?"

My heart skipped a beat as they directed powerful gazes toward me.

Mitsuhide: "Oh dear, why are you surprised? Surely you understand your own situation by now."

Kenshin: "You're in constant demand from the seventeen men here."

Mai: "That's..."

(I thought I understood Father's intentions and my own position, but...)

Whenever they put it into words, I felt like I was being pushed into a cage and wanted to run away right now.

Keiji: "Whoa, ease up a bit. You'll scare the princess, you know?"

Kicho: "But we can't just leave her in the dark. It would be troublesome if she continued to live unaware of her position as a princess."

Motonari: "He's right, so you better brace yourself, Princess."

Mai: "I..."

I desperately wanted to escape from this situation.

I never intended on getting involved with any of them, let alone falling in love. Yet, as I spent time with them in the Ōoku, I ended up falling in love.

Collection Events Masterlist

[strangelittlestories]

Fenrir woke up grumpy.

The midnight beast, the dawn-hunter, the great wolf who howled Ragnarök into being ... they just really *wished* that the apocalypse came with a snooze button.

They had slept funny. Their back hurt. Their jaw ached. This was probably to be expected when you have spent multiple Ages bound to a rock by an unbreakable silk muzzle. But would it have killed the gods to spring for an ergonomic pillow?

Oh well. Fenrir knew what *would* kill the gods. Because it was themself.

Sometimes you have to be the deicide you want to see in the world.

But maybe caffeine could happen first. Fenrir went in search of coffee.

Fenrir moodily rolled out of bed (well, not exactly bed, but out of the bedrock of the world) and began shuffling towards wakefulness. As they reached the mouth of the cave, they became aware of two shadows trotting along at their side.

"Hi dad." said Fenrir's two kids.

"Don't even talk to me until I've had my end of days." replied Fenrir.

"We got you a pick me up." said their son, Hati, "I swallowed the moon out of the sky."

"Yeah, and I ate the sun." said the daughter, Skoll, "The whole-ass sun."

"We thought they might put a bit of pep back in your step."

The pair presented Fenrir with a 'Starpups' takeaway cup. The name "Philomena" was written on it, which made Fenrir chuckle (they never expected baristas to get their name right).

"You're good kids."

By the time they reached the climactic final battle, Fenrir had nearly finished the steaming cup of cosmos and was feeling nearly human. Which was impressive, as they were a giant wolf.

"Hey Odin." said Fenrir.

"Did ... did you turn up late to Ragnarök with a coffee?" replied the Allfather.

"Presenteeism is just oppression that says please." replied the wolf.

"Your generation." Odin shook his head sadly. "You just don't want to work. How can you expect to *fight* with such little work ethic, pup?"

"It is not the size of the dog in the fight." Fenrir's eyes glowed with the brilliance of all that shone above and below. "It's the size of the *light* in the dog."

---

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[lvebug]

i made this blog 1 year ago today and it was my first ever venture into rp so really i had no idea what to expect but what i found was so much openness, love, & encouragement that i really don't know if i can express how it makes me feel!!!! this community has really opened me up so much to my own creativity and taught me to think more about the world & about storytelling, the stories i want to tell, how i want to tell them. andie has grown so important to me and it blows me away how important she is to some of you too!!! truly the love i've received is overwhelming 😭 she teaches me everyday. everyone here is so kind and i have so much fun with you. there's an incredible amount of talent and joy in all of the people i've met, so much creativity, detail, color. it's an honor getting to get to know everyone and to have fun w you all. literally this has filled my days with such joy and thoughtfulness i will always always have a positive thought for each of you. you're all my friends & i want to thank you for that and for being encouraging and for sharing all of your brilliance and all your wonderful characters with me it's so much funim so glad to be here with you. even if we don't talk a lot seeing your posts on my dash or sharing silly comments with each other is what makes my day bright. i love silly sweet interactions!!! I MEAN THIS FOR EACH OF YOU I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

[wakacreations]

Zevlor's Bizarre Cocoa Adventure (Ch. 2)

Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

Word Count: 1143

Summary:

Zevlor is met with a unwelcome surprise at the Society of Brilliance. How far will he travel to find some chocolate?

When he summoned for Blurg or Omeluum he did not expect to be met with a mindflayer. “You must be Zevlor. The Master of Ramazith Tower speaks highly of you. Oh, where are my manners? I am Omeluum.” The robed mindflayer extended their hand. Zevlor returned with a firm handshake but he couldn't help his wide-eyed stare at the tentacled being, his tail gone stiff behind him. Beads of cold sweat began to form on his temple.

How many times had he spent wide awake haunted by the thoughts, the begging, the pleading of becoming a true soul. His desperate grab of power to save his people and for what? To lead them to slaughter by his own command. His head pulsed and throbbed. They of his own kin, his people sacrificial lambs to his inevitable end to becoming a soulless enslaved tentacled husk. Though after some consideration of his actions in the Shadow-cursed Lands, he already lost more than his soul that day without the tadpole. His vision grew blurry. Did his limbs always feel this weak?

“Remember to breathe. I do have that effect on intellectual beings.” They moved to release the tiefling’s death grip, gently guiding him to a seat. Zevlor’s lungs burned with the breath he refused to exhale. “1… 2… 3... Breathe out,” the aberration said as he poured a glass of water. Shakely, Zevlor released the trapped air. “1… 2… 3… Take a deep breathe in” as the mindflayer grew near. The paladin gasped for air. “1… 2… 3… Another exhale.”

They placed the glass in his trembling hands. “1… 2… 3… Inhale. I have trust and faith you can manage from here.” Omeluum studied the man before them. Zevlor took a tentative sip of his glass. His tail coming to tightly hug himself. Hells, if Rolan could of gave him a fair warning. Maybe he would have been able to mentally prepare. He gently rubbed his temple trying to coax away the headache. “I usually have my partner Blurg handle the introductions first. My apologies.” They handed him a handkerchief. “If you have requested Blurg and I then you must be interested in our research." Omeluum's eyes gleamed. "We are currently working on growing the cocoa plant in the Underdark. Blurg is currently tending to them as we speak.” Zevlor looked up inquisitively at the mindflayer.

“Pardon me Omeluum was it? If you don't mind my curiosity, what purpose would you need to grow such a plant?” He patted the sweat off his brow. “Why would a mindflayer need chocolates? Though, it would make quite the lucrative business,” Zevlor thought. “Why cocoa? From our report it seems to carry some medicinal properties. Its derivatives would prove beneficial for the denizens of the Underdark.” Omeluum smiled. “If I may politely inquire but do you have any chocolates perhaps?” A hope begun to blossom within Zevlor. Maybe this goose chase will come to an end, his tail thumping excitedly at the prospect. “All our cocoa derivatives are safely stored at Ebonlake Grotto. I am to return to the Underdark once I turn in my findings to the Society.”

A deep defeated sigh left the tiefling’s lips. It was a simple retrieval mission really. Nothing was out of the norm of his experience if anything this would be one of his easier orders to date. The frown on his face diminished slightly. A trip to the Underdark would still prove a dangerous journey. But… “I would like to assist in your return to Ebonlake Grotto. Your colleague Rolan, sent I on his request to procure such sweets. If you'll have me.” Zevlor met the mindflayer's gaze as his tail slowly waved. Omeluum closed their eyes in deep contemplation. “I will be here. Should you be here at sunset then we will depart to the Underdark.��

The sun was almost setting upon the horizon. “It is almost time,” Zevlor thought as he looked out his window. He carried on packing what little belongings he would need for the journey ahead. His eyes wandered his bedroom. I have all the simple comforts that I need. A desk tucked into the corner, a bookcase at the far wall and a bed to sleep in. What right do I have to yearn for more? He slung his rucksack over his shoulder. Who would brave the Underdark for some measly ounces of chocolate?

“You would Commander Zevlor. If Tav were to order you, sir,” Tilly would say for certain. She would not have to needle him further as much as he loathed, she was right. “To think a hypothetical scenario would become reality,” he huffed. 'What would he do for Tav?' was the question posed by Tilses after he settling into Baldur’s Gate. The door to his home now shut. “But for Tav… anything and for anything else they desire.” 

“You have returned,” Omeluum turned to Zevlor. “Do you have all that you acquire,” the mindflayer inquired as their piercing eyes roamed his form. Zevlor couldn’t help but shutter at their gaze. It was too birdlike for his liking. The way in which their pupils dilate further to hone in whatever movements their prey displays. A bird of prey ready for flight and talons ready to grasp such like a mindflayer,  a being ready to strike at a vulnerable mind. “I have all that I need. Thank you.” He tightened his grip on his rucksack. Though friendly as they may seem it is best to stay on guard. It is still concerning there are still mind flayers about.

“You look better than before. Should my psionic presence prove overwhelming, we will come to rest,” Omeluum gave a courteous nod. “Now, shall we begin?” The robed illithid raised their right hand. “Oh, do keep your eyes shut. Your vision may be impaired as we travel.” Omeluum smiled at the tiefling. “WAIT! WHAT!?!”  The sounds of humming began to ring in Zevlor’s ears. He forced his eyes shut. The air grew warm as waves of psionic energy pulsed. The chatter of the bustle of Baldur’s Gate grew distant. There was only silence for a moment. Cold winds chilled his bones. “We are almost there.” Omeluum voice echoed in his head. The air grew damp. The faint sounds of dripping entered his ears.

“You may open your eyes, now. We are here.” Zevlor slowly opened his eyes. Strange mushroom-like creatures wandered about in his distorted gaze. “Omeluum, you are finally here! We have another harvest ready,” said a hobgoblin running into view. Zevlor’s stomach churned. His hands fell to his knees as he struggled to keep upright. “Oh, Omeluum your friend there is not looking too good…” as the hobgoblin drew near. “You are correct in your observation.” Zevlor felt a clawed arm wrap around his midsection. “If you could prepare a bedroll for our companion, Blurg. They are due for a long rest.”

[vroomvroomwee]

I don't know if anyone has pointed this out yet but the entire Midnight episode from Doctor Who is e perfect example of society. I'll go by character because I can't write essays for shit and it's more fun to read this way.

Professor Hobbes: Starting with probably the more obvious one. Professor Hobbes. A white middle-aged man who's defining characteristic is his broad and unwavering knowledge of the world. Or knowledge that he thinks is correct of the world. This is a man who is so blinded by his ego that he can't see what's right in front of him, even so far as using his arrogance to cover up his fear of what is actually happening. This is a man who would rather remain in denial even in a life-threatening situation than accept that his view of the world is potentially wrong. That self-confidence burrows so deep down that it has created a self-defence mechanism for him, it's how he deals with it, how he deals with danger, by reverting back to his brilliance and intelligence and the fact he is all-knowing with a cleverness no one can match. It leads him to demean other people as well, those who dare question him... not even for one moment does he pause to think maybe they're right... something we see churches do more and more every day... The world is aflame and yet they're still in denial and have utter faith that their God (his intelligence) will save them relying on old and washed out world views that hold no water in modern society.

Dee Dee Blasco: And that leads us to Dee Dee, his apprentice. Or should we say the one who actually understands what is happening but is constantly put down by Hobbes. It is proved multiple times in the episode that her knowledge of chemistry and physics is quite vast, and at times even superior to Hobbes'. It is no coincidence that Hobbes is a white middle-aged man and Dee Dee is a young black woman who dares challenge the professors word, kind of like how the younger generations are calling out the hypocrisy of religion more and more, backing it up with solid real scientific evidence, but being repeatedly silenced, ridiculed and embarrassed for it.

Jethro Kane: Speaking of young generations, the other representative is Jethro. A young boy, a teenager, who, despite his appearance, is very highly intuitive. He might appear aloof, unserious, disinterested, and downright unremarkable. But out of everyone, he has the most accurate image of what is happening. He might be young, but he is very intelligent, despite constantly being told to shut up, that he shouldn't be speaking, that his opinion is worthless and unwanted. Treatement very similar to the treatment younger generations get from the older ones, despite more often than not being the voice of reason and getting a grasp on the real picture yet still being constantly bellitled by the older generations. "Don't be stupid, Jethro," said to him by his own mother. The ridicule eventually gets to him as well as the pressure and stress of the whole situation itself, which leads him to contemplate even murder. Eventually, in the end, he succumbs to the panick, he doesn't know what to do, and he breaks down. Not his own fault, but mostly due to the actions and the utter chaos the older generations caused around him. And that sounds awfully familiar...

Val and Biff Kane: The couple. The picture perfect representation of a loving family. Except deep down, they are selfish and rotten. Val only thinking about herself and how the Entity is stealing her voice despite everyone experiencing the same thing, not caring about anyone else and repeatedly making her voice the loudest in the room, not listening to reason and persisting her rants even though it's making the situation worse. Biff being the typical patriarchal male of the house, the first one to resort to violence and even shaming Hobbes for "not being a real man" as if murder is the logical expectation of men, as if homicide is what makes you a real man. These two are the prime example of the nuclear family who follows society's traditions on behaviour and appearance, painting themselves as the perfect example of how every couple should look, buying in all the bullshit the media is selling them, while deep down being terrible and narcissistic people. Val, going so far as to gaslight the man, she and her husband just tried to kill not even 10 seconds ago in an attempt to save her own image.

The Doctor: Now. The Doctor. The scientist. The thinker of the group. He is the spark that lights the flame. The light in a room devoid of it, that illuminates everyone's hidden and dark side. The side everyone tries to keep secret, even from themselves. The one whose kindness brings that side out and causes panick and self-inflicted chaos as they attempt to shove that darkness down and out of sight. Bringing the nastiness out of them as if they were a piece of transparent glass. And it causes absolute chaos.

The Doctor is a symbol of wisdom, common sense, and worst of all... kindness. He is the one speaking logic, speaking the obvious, showing goodness, doing the humane thing... but no one listens. Everyone around him, being in a fit of horrified panick, turns on him because they don't want to deal with their own nastiness under the pressure of potentially facing their own death.

The Entity: I was debating whether to put the Doctor and the Entity as one thesis, but I think the Entity deserves its own consideration.

To start off strongly, it is no coincidence that the show uses he/him for the Entity. He who has sinister and self-benifiting plans for the entire carriage, and he, who hides behind a woman... A queer woman might I add. He who takes the role of a woman and disguises his evil deeds as her deeds. Painting the woman as the true villain of the story. Sounds familiar...

He who first kills the mechanic and the driver, the ones who kept the whole cabin afloat and running, the ones who nobody really considers, the workforce, the ones who saved everyone, and he killed them like they were nothing. Very similar to how the workforce is treated as disposable in real life...

He who steals the scientist's voice. He who listens to what the intellect has to say, who processes it, and he who thinks of the best way he could turn the situation to serve him. He who twists the Doctors words and uses them against him, he who still uses his knowledge but who gets rid of the thinker himself. He who paints that wisdom as blasphemy and insidiousness but who uses it as a tool to serve himself. He behind the scenes. He who turns everyone against each other, provoking them to create ridiculous arguments and to cause chaos amongst themselves that works to his advantage. He who manipulates the entire scene. He who nobody can really see. He, the real villain behind it all...

The Hostess: The Hostess, who's in charge of the carriage and whose efforts to keep the calm, proved time and time again completely fruitless. The one who tried to keep everyone safe.

The one who saw the real villain and exposed him. The one who died doing so. A woman of colour, and the one who saves the day, but whose name is forgotten... the one who history won't remember... which sounds very familiar.

The situation itself brings out the worst in people. It shows what people are really like in life-threatening situations and how easily they turn on each other to save their own neck. Very much what would be the collective reaction in the real world. Neverending conflict, unyielding chaos, created for the most part by the people themselves. Fighting each other, sacrificing each other. All the while, the real villain smiles in the background...

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 5: Salty Lips

Warnings: Tarot misinformation, penetrative vaginal sex, manipulation, fluff, smut, then angsty tears. 18+ Minors DNI.

Apparently I don't know how to schedule things so I am posting earlier than expected. Please file your complaints accordingly.

Word Count: 9.4 K

Summary: Becky has settled into the rhythm of life at Graceland over the first few days there, though she still has not had a full tour. Luckily, her hosts finally get it together to show her around. She goes to visit her sister, but encounters an unexpected guest. At least for her.

I need to first thank my alpha, @whositmcwhatsit for reading the first draft and giving me feedback as she corrected my grammar. Which is generally bad. Thanks Jade, I some how fooled you into hanging out with me and I would feel guilty for asking you to read my stuff, because it takes you away from your own writing which is necessary and needed for the good of the fandom. But you always make my work better so I cannot feel guilty at all. No, I selfishly will take every glance and glint and comment you give me.

Also thanks to my fellow Elvis sister wives for all their morale support and brilliance. Just being in your orbit is a gift: @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

If you need to catch up first:

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

or start from the beginning: No One Walks Out On Big Daddy Masterlist

Chapter 5: Salty Lips  

11:45 a.m. Thursday, June 19, 1975

Graceland Estate, Memphis, TN

A cardinal twittered loudly, joined by a chickadee, and Becky was so ensconced in the bubble of idyllic life at Graceland that she wondered if this musical rendition wasn’t just for her benefit. Lisa gave an excited hum where she sat next to Becky on top of the picnic table by the pool and slapped down another tarot card.

“Alright, Becky, ‘Page of Swords’, what does this one mean?”

Becky looked closely at the drawing, closing one eye and squinting nearer for effect.

“Well, babt,” Becky mused, trying to stifle a grin and pronounce the girl’s fortune with complete confidence. “They all go together.” She set it next to the other cards they had drawn: Strength, The Chariot and The Moon. Becky was not sure how many cards you were supposed to put down when reading tarot, but four seemed like a good number.

”So?” Lisa slapped her hand on the table.

“Well, so, Page of Swords, as we can see here now, obviously means you are gonna live on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you’ll have yellow tights, and a pretty pink dress, and a big ol’ sword that you’ll be very good at using,”

“I’m already pretty good with my daddy’s samurai sword, wanna see?”

“Hmmm, maybe later.”

Becky thought of her shooting lesson the other day and decided against more deadly weapons. Getting through the day without letting Lisa kill or be killed would count as a win for bonding with the kid of her new  - lover? fling? friend? - whatever Elvis was to her. She decided to go with fling. A short fling. They were two grown adults having a casual, fun, very short fling. Well, one rock star and one adult. 

Was she even an adult? She had spent most of the last three days playing with a seven year old until the late afternoon, and then playing with Elvis into the night. She felt like she had wandered into a strange, enchanted land where all the adults acted like children and all the children acted like adults. Water fights, target practice, ice cream for breakfast, and impulsive shopping sprees. 

Not having a schedule or others depending on her had been freeing at first, but now, on day four of life at Graceland, Becky had started to feel somewhat unmoored from reality away from the structure of her daily life back home.

She looked down at the table, where Lisa was tapping on the next card, and continued her tarot reading. 

“Ok, see here, Strength, that’s an angel with a lion. Of course, now, that is just symbolic. The angel is your conscience telling you the right thing to do, but you won’t have this moral confidence until you own a lion. They can be very difficult pets, I hear, I recommend getting an ice locker for all the gazelle meat you are going to need to feed it.”

“You’re silly, Becky, no one owns lions as pets.”

“No one yet, but hey baby, according to your fortune, you are gonna change all that. There’s nothing you can do. It’s in the cards. That means it has to happen.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, her lips betraying a smile. “Ok, what else?”

“Well, here, The Chariot, clearly one day you will go to Egypt and meet a prince -”

“And marry him?”

“Well, that depends. On whether you like him or wanna feed him to your lion?” Becky growled and gashed her teeth playfully as if she was going to eat Lisa’s shoulder. Just as Lisa shrieked and hit Becky, the back door slammed and they glanced over to see Elvis’ aunt Delta stagger out.

“Alright, Lisa Marie now, s’getting to be round lunch time. I just got Ma settled out in the rockin’ chair, so it’s time for you to come eat.” Delta looked Becky up and down as she spoke. 

“Whatcha y’all got goin on?” she said, and Becky noticed Lisa stiffen and gather up the cards.

“We’re just playing Old Maid, Aunt Delta.”

Becky raised her eyebrow at Lisa, who just shook her head with a crafty smile. Becky turned to the older woman. Hmmm, I guess these older ladies don’t approve of mystical practices. Or maybe they only let one resident here get away doing whatever he wanted. 

She thought of Elvis’ grandmother, who had turned to her after he had left the dinner table the night before, taken her arm and whispered low:

“I hope ya don’t break his heart, like all the rest. That young boy ova there has been through so much. Don’t know why he canna find a good woman. Guess they just don’t make us like they used ta.” Minnie Mae had then released Becky’s hand and spit part of her chew into the tea cup next to her dinner plate. 

Becky only had a moment to feel uneasy before Elvis swooped back in and pulled her into the den and onto his lap, where he cajoled Lisa to perform “Crocodile Rock” for the group on top of the coffee table. 

No, I reckon these good ole girls who sit around bemoaning the lack of any good women left would probably not go in for tarot cards, Becky thought, as she looked at Elvis’ aunt.

“How are you doing today, Ms. Presley?”

“Hmmm, it’s Biggs. And it’s Mrs. And never you mind, you can save it, I don’t care for you kissing up ta me. I know your kind.” 

Becky tightened her smile at Delta’s grimace, wondering if that was the faint odor of vodka wafting off the older woman. Just then, Delta weaved towards her and gripped a nearby chair to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed at Becky in judgment. 

“You are like all the others, waiting around for your payday. Out for all you can get. Bout as useful as gum on a boot heel. Humph.”

“Oh brother, here we go!” Lisa jumped up and walked past Delta. “C’mon, Becky Butt, let’s go get some chocolate cake.”

Becky smiled even wider at Delta as she followed Lisa, and watched the older woman scan the pool area, before tottering back to the house behind them.

“Chocolate cake? That doesn’t sound like a good lunch.”

“Oh, it’s the best lunch, don’t worry, I told Nancy before she left this morning, so it’s all ready.”

“They - they  let you have that for lunch”

“Let me?” Lisa grinned a devious grin and her eyes sparkled. “I’m the boss round here when Daddy’s asleep. If they ever give me any guff, I just lay down tha law an let ‘em know how it is, jack.”

“Oh? And how is it?”

“Get with the program or git!” Lisa held the door to the kitchen open for Becky, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

Sure enough, there in the middle of the counter was a tall, chocolate cake adorned with a circle of pink frosting rosettes. Lisa poured two tall glasses of milk  and carefully set out china plates with all the hospitality of a true, Southern hostess.

“Don’t worry, Becky, it’s vegetarian!” Lisa announced, grabbing the biggest knife Becky had ever seen, almost the length of the short, seven year old’s arm, as she proceeded to carve two large, unwieldy pieces from the beautiful dessert.

*********************************************************************

Becky was certain that her chocolate cake was about to make an encore appearance as the golf cart whipped around the bend. Grabbing the top of the seat, she looked over at Lisa as the little girl pushed her foot harder on the pedal and yelped with glee while she steered them down the grass behind the carport.

“I didn’t realize golf carts could go this fast.” Becky gripped her seat tighter, her knees jostling up and down against the metal bar at the front.

“Oh yeah, these are top o’ the line, Becky. Watch, I can get it to go even fast—” Becky put her hand up in protest.

“Nope, not necessary, this - this is great. Very refreshing in the heat.”

Lisa pushed her feet down a little further and Becky held on for dear life as the air whipped through her dark curls and reminded her very much that she was alive and wanted to keep it that way.

“Ok, so this is the stable,” Lisa pointed to a large white building coming up on their left side. “It’s called House of the Rising Sun, and most people think it's after a song, but actually, it's named after Daddy’s horse, Rising Sun. Though I always say he should be named Setting Sun, on account of the fact that the sun is usually setting before Papa gets up and goes riding.” Lisa slapped her thigh, as if making a rimshot on a drum set, and Becky realized this was her cue to laugh, so she let out a chuckle and rubbed Lisa’s hair.

“Yeah, that is a much better name. Or Sleeping Bear, hmmm?” Lisa giggled. 

“Or Grumpy Sleepy Bear.”

“That one sounds perfect, what do you think? We have time to paint a new sign?”

Lisa laughed as she drove them on, showing Becky the trailer where her daddy’s nurse, Tish lived, and the other where Billy, Jo and their kids lived, and they wound their way around the back of the paddock.

“That’s where Daddy likes to race his horses with the guys.”

“For special occasions? Or just for fun?”

“Oh, he does it to show off for the fans.” 

Becky snorted down a laugh and and attempted to catch her hair and pulled it back up as it escaped into the wind. 

“Um, ha - how do you know he does it for the fans? He tell you that?”

“No, my mama told me; he likes to race the horses round for no good reason, just to show off for the fans cuz he’s a big show off and he’ll never really be a true questrion.”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean your mom may not know —”

“Oh, she does, she knows everything. Daddy’s always saying my mama’s the biggest know-it-all you’ll ever meet. And hippo cat. Why would he call a woman a hippo and a cat?”

“Hmm.” Becky grabbed the side rail as the golf cart swerved back around towards the mansion, trying not to laugh at Lisa’s casual description of her parents. “I bet he meant something else and said it wrong, cuz you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

Lisa seemed to agree, nodding her head. And on to the next point of interest, her proud, confident tour guide voice explained that the house butted up to fence over there used to be her granddaddy’s. 

They drove past the throng of fans at the front gate near the bottom of the hill they were coming up and Lisa asked Becky if she needed any money or a new camera. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how this related to the crowd, but she had some suspicions as she looked over her shoulder at the people mulling aroun down at the gate. So, instead, she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and complained about the heat. 

Parking the golf cart back at the side of the house, Lisa led the way back inside, suggesting they cool down in the pool. Becky didn’t have a bathing suit, but jumped in wearing her tee shirt over underwear, letting her feet push off the rough, concrete bottom of the pool. She felt an almost instant sense of relief and rejuvenation as she sprung up weightlessly through the cool water and floated to the top, rubbing the chlorine out of her eyes. This was, of course, a futile exercise, as more chlorine water was in her face almost immediately, followed by the sounds of Lisa laughing from where she was splashing Becky a few feet away.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

Lisa’s screams ricocheted through the patio as Becky swam over, grabbed her and threw her playfully back into the water.

They raced each other like this for a bit, and then played catch in the water. Lisa particularly liked trying to aim directly in front of Becky, and shrieked with delight when Becky let the ball hit the water and then dramatically flustered about in the wake of the splash, uttering out a loud, affected:

“Now heyyyyy! That’s not fair!”

After a while, Mary brought them out some lemonade, and ham and cheese sandwiches, and they dangled their feet in the side of the pool, eating. Becky pulled the ham out of her sandwich, and Lisa opened her mouth, motioning for Becky to drop the cold cut in, chuckling.

“Hmmm, we make a good pair, huh?” 

Lisa nodded, speaking with a full mouth:

“Mmmm choww nuhff.” She swallowed, and took a sip of lemonade. “How’d you get to be such a good swimmer? You don’ all kinds of fancy moves out there, I never seen anyone swim sideways like that or stay underwater so long.”

“I was on my high school swim team. Then I used to lead canoe trips down the Cahaba, that’s the big river where I’m from, over in Birmingham.” She ruffled Lisa’s hair. “And I was a camp counselor for a while in Mississippi, we spent most of our summer in the pool. I reckon I was a fish in my past life, that’s what Helga used to say.

“Your nanny?”

“MMhmm. You have a good memory, kid, I can tell. You’re whip smart.”

Lisa giggled and splashed Becky with her foot. Water was violently flying up in the air as they commenced in an epic foot splash fight when a loud, deep ‘Ahem’ made their feet still. Lisa’s lips were pursed, emitting a nervous laugh and Becky met her eyes with frightened giddy trepidation as they turned in unison to see the tall, broad silhouette of Elvis behind them. Becky coughed nervously.

His thumbs hung down from the belt at his white trousers and he tilted his sunglasses down to look over them, adjusting his stance.

“MMMM what's - a -a - ahappenin’ ova round these parts, mhmmm?” Elvis tried unsuccessfully to keep his lip from quirking into a smile as his voice boomed out comically deep.

Lisa giggled, and pointed. “Becky started it!”

Gaping, Becky pushed her into the pool with a whispered, “Thanks a lot, Lisa Marie Benedict Arnold Presley!” Then jumped up to say hi to Elvis.

His face beamed with a grin but then, as she got closer, his lip tightened and his chin tilted out as he took in her swimsuit.

“Becky, what the hell are ya wearin’, girl?”

Becky pulled her shirt down, and Elvis went to grab her hands to stop her, as it just made her nipples more pronounced through the thin, wet fabric.

“Elvis, I don’t have a bathing suit, I didn’t think it was that big of a differe—”

“Honey, I can see your hair through your panties,” he whispered gruffly, wrapping Becky in the thick, white, suede jacket he’d been wearing. As part of his outfit. Outside. In June. In Memphis. Becky rolled her shoulders, trying to shirk it off, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Elvis, I’m all wet, it will ruin this suede and get it all dirty. It’s so humid, too, I just th—”

“Becky, don’t worry about the jacket.” He pulled her in, unable to resist flicking her over her nipple imself as he scolded her to cover up. “Anyone could see you out here.”

“Baby, no one is out here.”

“But they could be, boy, they could be.. ‘Sides, think now what if a band of drugged-out commie burglars jumped the back fence, and I, I had to send you running to safety at that motel across the street? You don’t wanna be waiting for me and the boys and the police in public like this.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Elvis, that’s ridiculous - what is the likelihood tha—”

“Now, c’mon on, you never know, it’s getting rougher every day out there. These are the things ya gotta consider.”

Becky was about to argue with him further, that he was being paranoid, and where did he even come up with this stuff, commie drug dealer burglars? She thought of Elvis doing some of the karate moves he had taught her as a band of crazy-eyed youths scaled the back wall, and almost giggled. However, she was suddenly distracted by the fingers tracing over her hips, underneath the suede jacket, and she shivered as she felt goosebumps rise up on the back of her neck, still chilled from the water. Elvis leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes with a low gasp, feeling his belly press into hers.

“Good thing you got me around to think of every angle.” Elvis clicked his tongue and point to his head. ”Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, wanna give you a tour of Graceland.” He patted Becky on the butt as he turned her to the house.

Shuffling forward in the comfort of her new mobile suede sauna, Becky heard Lisa pull out of the water and ask her dad if they could have a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and baked potatoes and corn and s’mores and coconut cake and ice cream.

“Course, baby, jus let Mary and Charlie know how you want it.” 

Becky opened the door at the side of the house, she looked back to see Elvis kneeling and smiling as he wrapped Lisa in a towel. 

“You’re the boss, booger, I jus’ work here.”

Becky could feel the brightness radiating from Lisa’s broad smile as she went inside, and she shook her head as she mused to herself how sweet they were together. The way Elvis spoiled his daughter was charming when Becky pushed aside her own parenting philosophy, which she had always considered to be overly permissive until spending this last week at Graceland. 

She frowned at the prospect of having to parent with someone like him, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Priscilla, a woman whom Becky had always regarded as a bit of a cold Yankee. As if you could ever know what someone is like from reading gossip magazines, silly girl. 

Getting dressed, Becky chided herself for not telling Elvis about her earlier tour of the estate. It was just that he had looked so intent as he told her what they were doing, and the sound of his voice gently commanding her made her agree with whatever he said, take whatever he offered, do whatever he wanted to do. 

Yeah, a long term relationship with this man is trouble. Becky reflected on how relieved she had been when Lisa didn’t wake up and come get her until 10:30 that morning, instead of 8 a.m., like she had the first day, and felt a bit disgusted with herself. Ugh, Elvis’  lifestyle is warping your judgment. Sleep all day, play all night, and now I have to go pretend that I haven’t already seen the grounds of Graceland.

*********************************************************************

The dirt shifted under Becky’s Keds as she walked beside Elvis towards the stables, holding his hand as he squeezed it tightly and turned to look at her, eyes soft and bright as he spoke. Becky summoned a look of awe as if seeing the building for the first time.

“Right, now this is the House of the Rising Sun, on account of my horse, Rising Sun. Though I reckon I shoulda named him Setting Sun, because, ya know, that’s usually when I’m getting up.” Elvis looked at Becky expectantly, and she forced a giggle, leaning into him as they walked into the building.

The sound of horses’ snorting and whinnying greeted them, and Becky followed Elvis as he grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the front counter and leaned against the white gate of the first stall, waggling his eyebrows at Becky as she cautiously stepped forward. He took her hand, unrolling her fingers and putting a piece of sugar in the middle, then clicking his tongue as the large palomino nuzzled into him, nickering and searching for treats.

“Now, go on, he won’t bite ya - much.” Elvis smirked, watching as Becky rolled her lips in and put out her hand, shrieking at the tickle of the horse’s chin hairs on her hand.

“Is this one yours?”

“MMhmmm, this is Rising Sun,” Elvis told her, turning to ruffle the blonde tuft of hair between the golden horse’s ears.

Becky cautiously stroked the white blaze down the middle of his face, stopping to rub his muzzle as he sniffed her hand for more sugar. She looked into Rising Sun’s large brown eyes, wondering how such a majestic creature could be tamed, and how quickly he would trample over her for more sugar.

“He’s beautiful. And terrifying.” She said, then looked up at Elvis. “Just like you, I suppose.”

Elvis’ fingers caressed over Becky’s dress, stopping at the small of her back to rub into her tenderly. 

“Oh now, don’t tell me ya afraid of me, now honey. Or these horsies, are ya Becky Butt?” He moved behind her, his hand trailing slowly over her arm, down from her shoulder, until it was over the back of her palm. He slowly guided her palm up to smooth over the side of Rising Sun’s face and cheek, leaning into whisper into her neck. “See, now, now, see? He’s a good boy, gentle and well trained as can be. Ain’t got nothin ta fear from hims.” 

Elvis kisses warmed her skin, and Becky shuddered as his lips crushed into her. Moaning, she dropped her hand and turned into him, biting her lip in anticipation as Elvis rolled back on his feet and then forward, pressing her into the white pole that separated the stalls. Rising Sun grunted at them and blew his nose, and Becky squealed at the feeling of his large, gummy mouth chewing at her hair. Elvis' mouth quirked into a smile, but his hand rubbed her side more intently, and a fierce, starved look animated his eyes.  

“Get now, silly horse, that ain’t hay.” He gently pushed Rising Sun away, and pulled Becky into him, gripping her tightly.

A tingle burned in Becky’s belly and she breathed out in hushed desire.

“Huh. How - how does my hair look?”

“Looks a a a, a whole lot better than it's gonna once I’m through wit ya.” Elvis said softly, through a high breathy giggle. Then he looked down, bashfully, his hand rubbing Becky’s waist up and down then pinching her on both sides. Becky giggled, pulling herself into his frame, her hand working up over his chest as she kissed his jaw. 

“Why, Elvis Presley, I declare, are you - are you trying to seduce me? In the barn?”

He shook his head, a goofy expression pushed his lips into a pout.

“Depends.”

Becky arched her eyebrow, her fingers toyed with the high blue collar of Elvis’ shirt. “Mmmmmm? Depends on what?”

Elvis withdrew, blushing, his jaw tightening, suddenly changing his mind from whatever he had been thinking about doing,  “Neva mind, baby. Here, let me introduce ya to the other horses.”

Becky followed him, brushing her hand over the top of his belt and sweeping along his back. 

“Ok darlin’, you’re the boss.” Pushing her hand around him, Becky leaned into Elvis, and he drew her tighter into his side, looking ahead to give a large, black horse a sugar cube.

“This here, now, this boy is special, this is Ebony’s Double, come from a real champion stud, Ebony Masterpiece.”

Becky put her hand up to the horse’s neck, feeling his muscles ripple under his silky black coat as she rolled her hand over him. Breathing in, her eyes locked with Elvis as she caught him looking down at her, and she thought about reaching up on her tiptoes to try and kiss him, but instead kissed his shoulder. It was easier, and she relished the way he squeezed her into him in response. His bottom lip dropped down with his chin, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.

“Hey there, lil’ girl.”

Becky nuzzled in, and shifted the rubber soles of her shoes to pivot and bring her closer into Elvis' chest.

“Hey,” she whispered into his armpit.

Elvis brought her chin up and leaned down, his hand moving to cradle her neck as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Gentle kisses became more fervent as his hands crept lower until they cupped her bottom and Elvis was holding Becky up. Notched above his tummy, Becky’s knees bumped up awkwardly against his elbows, and Elvis chuckled as he carried her towards the back of the barn, almost dropping her with a mild stumble. That would have been the end of the white suede suit. But he quickly recovered, grunting as he jostled Becky up and smiling at the sound of her breathy chuckles as she held onto his shoulders while they staggered to the back of the barn. Becky could hear the sound of horse’s hooves, grunts and neighs, but they were peripheral to the sound of the heartbeat pulsing through her ears.

Becky felt the edge of the workbench where Elvis placed her atop. They were at the back of the stables, next to a saddle presumably left for repair. Beckys legs hitched on either side of Elvis' body, and she dragged her thumb over his cheek, moaning out as his lips found that spot on her neck once more and his hands moved under her skirt, slowly, carefully, tugging on her underwear.

“Hey,” she murmured. Elvis cheeks reddened above a smirk as his dark blue eyes looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he breathed out in a deep voice.

Becky fell back on the table, resting on her wrists.

“Hey.” she waggled her eyebrows and dangled her legs, then tightened them at his side.

He shook his head, unbuttoning his trousers and moving over her, his lips feathering above her as he whispered: “Heyyyyyyy.”

Becky gasped as she felt him thrust slowly upwards into her, moaning out into his mouth. 

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, rocking her hips to meet him in the slow, gentle cadence of their love making. His eyes narrowed on hers as his movements became more deliberate, and his thumb found the slick over her clitoris, swirling in time to their needy rolls back and forth over the workbench. Heat coiled in her belly, and Becky leaned back as a guttural cry escaped her mouth.“Heeyyyyyy fucking ohmygod heyyyyyyYYYYYY GODDAMMMIT” as her climax overtook her.  

Elvis leaned forward, peppering kisses over her collarbone and burying his head in her bosom where he continued to slow move in and out of her until he came with a vehement grunt and remained there, head in her chest, panting through the final thrusts before stilling completely. 

Becky relished the weight of his body pressing down on her, insistent, immediate, she wanted it to crush her forever. His shaggy swath of black hair moved as Elvis’ chin protruded forward, and she met his blue eyes, looking up at her from his smug, boyish expression. She melted in the radiance of his smile. “Hey.” Elvis blushed, again, then grunted as he pulled himself up and grinned at Becky’s playfully shove.

“Hey is for horses, Presley,” she gasped, and he laughed as he zipped up, bending down to restore her panties to their rightful place.

She wondered if she had made the wrong first impression on the horses, as they ambled out of the stable and back toward the house.

“Hmmm, so that was the tour huh?”

“I think that’s all the tour I can manage right now, lil girl.”

“OK, well, Lisa already showed me the smokehouse, and I’m definitely not having sex in there.”

“Hmmm, well, figured you should know by now, telling me something isn’t gonna happen just about guarantees I havta try.” He slapped her bottom  and she shoved him away, only to have his arm instantly around her, drawing her into the warmth of his body as he kissed her head.

“Just so you know, Becky, I did not intend to get busy back there.”

Becky nestled into his shoulder as they walked. She could still hear the sounds of twenty horses behind them if she focused, joined by the sound of crickets and cars on the far off roads buzzing into the twilight of early evening. Above it all, she could feel the grain of Elvis' voice as it rumbling into her ear, heating the side of her neck with each word.

“I, I  - I just, well, suddenly couldn’t help myself. Don’t feel that way very often, honey, I think - ” He stopped talking abruptly and turned Becky in to face him.

“Honey, now stop walking already, I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.”

As he looked at her, he noticed that her hair really had come half out of the up twist she had styled it in that evening, and he paused to take out her hair pins, freeing her curls and arranging them over her shoulders.

“There, better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. OK. Here it is. I think I’m starting to really fall for ya, baby. I think, well, I think you should move up here. Can’t bear ta think about taking you back to Jackson next week.”

“This week,” Becky muttered, crossing her arms. “Sunday.”

Suddenly the buzzing, post-coital glow disintegrated and she stood still trying to process what he had said.

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Think about it. Didn’t you say you have a sister here in Memphis?”

Becky nodded, her mind still swimming, wondering if there was any way in hell she could, would, should pursue this. Looking up into Elvis’ eyes was like diving into a sea of endless optimism where everything was possible.

“Hey, I got a business meeting I gotta handle tomorrow night, maybe you could go visit your sister? I was thinking you probably would want to while you're up here anyway. And you can think things over. How it would be, if I got you a place up here, come live with your lil girl in Memphis?”

Becky stood there, nodding again, looking back down at the house. Elvis started to walk.

“Don’t just stand there woman, get in here. The most handsome man in the world just asked if you’d be his baby, least you can do is give him some sugar and say thank you.”

Becky leaned back into Elvis' open arm and kissed his chest. “Hmmm, just took me by surprise is all. I, um, I need to think about it, that’s a big deal, Elvis, I , well, I feel strongly about you too.”

She tickled his side as they walked, and he jerked back with a, *Hey, now.*

“You’re right, though, I should try and see my sister. Tomorrow night, I guess.”

*********************************************************************

6:15 p.m. Friday, June 20th 1975

Still at Graceland, for now…

It was one of the new dresses Elvis had bought her that week, a purple, jersey halter dress, that Becky pulled over her head, before asking Lisa to help clasp the simple, diamond drop necklace around the back of her neck. Lisa jumped back, and put out her wrists for a spray of perfume as Becky doused herself and twirled around.

“How do I look?” Lisa put her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. 

“I think you need more eye make-up.”

“Ha, maybe, but trust me, my sister is the opposite of glamorous. She’s a judge. And I’m crashing a dinner party, so I think modest, simple, less-is-more sort of look is what I want.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed, ”you definitely nailed the less part. You’re hardly wearing any diamonds. Sure you don’t wanna borrow some of mine?”

Becky fidgeted with the ring she was wearing, the gift Elvis had given her that first night at Graceland. It was almost too large and gaudy for her style, let alone her sister Deborah’s taste. But it had come to be a comforting talisman, something she felt and twisted when she felt nervous or out of her element here with Elvis, doing whatever she thought she was doing. *Acting like an immature teenager who just discovered what sex is*, she thought to herself. 

Becky also sensed Elvis would be hurt if he saw her without the ring, because he’d mentioned how nice it looked on her several times, usually taking her hand and kissing the ring there before turning her palm and kissing the center of her hand. And pulling her in for a kiss. *Ughhh, these kisses*. Even the way his dry lips bumped over hers at first touch caused a burning electricity to electrify her face and she became instantly incapable of reason. 

Becky sighed, she had this impending sense of doom, her inner Cassandra, as Ida would say, always on high alert to call out trouble at the slightest provocation. Just trust him. This is fun. This feels right. Everything is ok. Wear the damn ring to Debbie’s dinner party.

Becky’s dress swished around her legs as she carefully walked down the staircase, trying not to trip in the orange platform heels Elvis had picked out at the boutique during a late night shopping spree on Wednesday. As she descended, she saw him whispering with Charlie, then the two men heard her and turned around, smiling in an eerie unison. Elvis was somewhat dressed up for his business meeting, in a dark red suit with a light blue dress shirt with a high, starched collar framing his face.

“There she is, Charlie. There’s the most beautiful gal in the world. And the smartest. And the funniest.”

Becky teetered on her platforms as she put her foot down another step.

“And the most graceful woman in the world.” He let out a low guffaw with out, and Becky narrowed her eyes at him

“Oh, keep laughing, Elvis Aaron Presley, I’mma get you for that. Buying me mile-high shoes an then laughing at how I walk in theses unnatural torture devices!”

Becky ran down the rest of the stairs and leapt onto his waist, ruffling his hair as Elvis chuckled.

“God, crazy woman, tryin’ ta kill me?” Becky kissed his forehead as he jostled her up and down, then placing her safely on the ground.

“Mhmmm. Just wanted to give you a kiss for good luck with your business dinner.”

Elvis kissed her back on the cheek as he ushered her and Charlie out of the door with a swat to the butt and a “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Charlie’s white Pontiac was waiting in front for them and they walked around, Charlie leading to open her door. Just as Becky was about to duck into the passenger seat, she saw the long, black snout of Elvis’ Stutz Blackhawk rolling up the driveway, Jerry at the steering wheel. Next to him sat the thin, blonde frame of Linda Thompson outlined against the dark, red leather interior. Jerry was a statue, stoic and serious as he pulled up and Linda burst out of the car to stride over.

“Charlie Hodge, you handsome man, where you runnin’ off to this evening? And who’s your friend?”

Charlie let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh, wondering to himself how Jerry had managed to arrive twenty minutes earlier than he had been told. Becky smiled awkwardly as she watched Linda give Charlie an air kiss on each side of his face, and then turned to Becky and her tight, wide forced cheerful smile.

Charlie stammered quickly, “Ugh, Linda, this is my cousin Becky, from Birmingham, come up to visit while her kid is at summer camp. I, ugh, well I -”

“He promised me I’d get to meet Elvis while I was here,” Becky gushed, summoning all of her energy to force her tongue to sound excited. She watched Jerry get out of the car and walk to join them. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were stiff.

“Oh, well, it just dills my pickle to meet Charlie’s family, I feel like we’re practically family ourselves, seein’ how much time I spend with this good ole boy.”

Becky tried very hard not to tense up as Linda threw her arms around her to squeeze her tight. Linda wore a red, satin evening gown with cutouts along the side that emphasized her the curves of her sveltetorso and the wide hips below. Becky felt as though her tall, awkward fleshy figure and bust overwhelmed Linda’s body completely.

“Gosh, I just love that dress,” Linda exclaimed, adjusting the layers of Becky’s hair off her shoulder. “Though I don’t know if I could pull that color off, mhmmm, don’t know if that would be my choice, but it's so you, isn’t it?”

Becky smiled. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“So, Charlie, the old boy been behaving?” Linda winked at Becky, then whispered conspiratorially. “You know, Elvis is a good, Christian man, s’just that the devil is mighty powerful, hmmm, know what I mean?”

“MMMhmmmm.”

Becky nodded. It was like she was back in high school and one of the popular girls had waltzed up to her desk at the school newspaper, indirectly ordering her to do a story about the committee decorating the homecoming game bleachers. Ughhh.  Becky steeled herself, falling back on the niceties that she was well versed in.

“I can’t even imagine! Gosh, it’s so exciting to meet you, I’ve seen your pictures in the paper and, of course, Charlie has told us about you. But you are just more precious in person, you really are.”

Linda gave Becky another hug. “Well bless your heart, Becky. Aren’t *you* the sweetest.”

Jerry coughed. “Hm, yeah, we better get going.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Ugh, I know, we got this Police Charity Dinner to go to, I flew in from LA just for this. I guess the Lord saw fit for me to make it. And meet you! I hope I get to see you again while you are visiting, are you staying here? With Charlie?”

“Oh God no.”—“No she aint!”

Charlie and Becky both answered together. Becky smiled big again, hugging Linda one more time. From the big, wide-eyed puppy dog look on her face, Becky felt she seemed to expect it. “No, no, I’m staying with my sis - sorority sister from college, who lives here, we’re actually just heading there now, for dinner. In fact, we better scoot, eh cuz?” Becky looked at Charlie, and sat into the car.

Charlie closed the door, a big  smile at Linda as Jerry led her up the steps into the house, and Linda waved goodbye. “I hope y’all have a the best night, see you again real soon!”

A tense feeling pushed up from Becky’s tummy and seized her shoulders in a tight anxious grip. It was one thing to know you were spending the week with a man who was seeing several women at once. It was another thing to come face to face with one and have to lie about who you were and what you were doing. Becky felt dirty, dirty and sick. She didn’t know how she could possibly face her perfect fucking sister, Deborah, and Debbie’s husband Steve, another lawyer, and the various lawyer professional type guests she expected to be at this dinner party. Charlie patted her thigh, seeming to intuit her thoughts, at least in part.

“Ya know, he’s not a bad guy, the boss man. He carries a heavy burden. And Linda’s moved out to LA to try and break into the movie biz. She had him buy her a home here in Memphis. It’s like they both know it’s over but neither one can bear to pull the trigger. And she knew how it was to date someone like him.”

Becky nodded, telling herself not to cry, and leaned against the window, hitting her head on the cool glass a few times as she swore under her breath at how stupid she was to be here. She muttered to herself in yiddish: 

“Ugh, whenever you have choices, oy vey, my sheyna maidel, boy oh boy do you somehow always manage to pick the worst. Your picker is broken, that’s what it is. When you go home, you are turning your love life over to Ida and her yenta brigade. There is a reason they used matchmakers in the old country. People are incapable of making good choices in men when left to their own devices. Stupid, foolish, idiot girl!” She hit her head on the window one last time, and then realized they had pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.

Charlie rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be out here waiting when you’re ready. I - he - I - he’s gonna be dropping Linda off at the other house. It was, it is, all part of the plan. You see, her brother’s in the police force here. It, ugh, it just made sense that she would be his date for this big charity ball fundraiser for the cops.”

Becky nodded, half in a daze, trying to mentally prepare for her sister, for the dinner party, and for Elvis later.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, totally makes sense, absolutely.” She breathed in, then looked over at Charlie’s apologetic face. “Wait, you’re just gonna wait here?”

“Yeah, the boss, he, well, he wanted me to look after you. On account of all the druggies running wild these days.” Becky nodded. 

“Right. The drugged out commie burglars, those are clearly the biggest threat to my livelihood right now. Not Elvis Presley and his selfish manipulative ways. Not his powerful girlfriend, or her cop brother. Not my family and their judgment. No, no no, it’s the invisible commie drug criminals supposedly lurking everywhere. Well, thank god you’re here Charlie, I feel so much safer.” 

She slammed the car door, knowing it was unfair to take it out on Charlie, but the look on his face when she bent to the window made her heart sink even further before she uttered one word of apology. Because his goofy, winsome smile told her she was not the first woman to yell at him like this. Not only did he seem to expect it, he had mentally braced himself for it. Becky’s face softened apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, for that. I’ll try not to be more than an hour.”

“S’ok, we’re family now, cuz.” 

Becky knew that Charlie’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it made her stomach drop even more as she turned and braced herself for a night at the Hoffman - Blumfeld’s (very intentionally hyphenated modern family of the 1970s) Dinner Party.

*********************************************************************

To say the night was uncomfortable and embarrassing would have been generous. Everyone else at the dinner party was dressed in jeans, khakis or linen pants and some sort of comfortable blouse or semi-casual shirt, and Becky felt she stood out like a Vegas showgirl at a library full of nerds. Which was probably the best way to describe Debbie, her husband Steve and their social circle. She was grateful it had been Debbie who opened the front door, so she could walk Becky into the side room and they could make their flustered hellos alone. 

Debbie wore a pair of sensible khakis and a tasteful floral button up top tucked in. As predicted, Debbie wore no make-up. And all judgment, though she tried to repress and be loose and fun.

Six years older than Becky, Debbie had always been half friend/half-parent to her, and this was a characteristic she inhabited calling out “Rebecca, please come in!” when she greeted Becky at the door.

Thank god for wine, the Hoffman-Blumfeld intentionally hyphenated household had some very good bottles of wine on offer and, after sipping one glass gracefully, and the another quickly in the kitchen, Becky was able to exhale and confront the evening with a blundering fort of confidence. She decided to pretend the meeting with Linda never happened, and stumbled confidently through her description of her relationship. She was dating a man who worked in the music business, after meeting him with Danny at a radio event fundraiser for the tornado in Mississippi. Was it serious? Well, sort of, he had invited her to Memphis for the week to meet his daughter, and he was trying to persuade her to move there. But her very successful life managing Saul and Ida’s store, and all her f.’

riends, made her reluctant to leave Jackson.

“I’m just taking a day at a time.” Becky winked and sipped her wine, before taking another mouthful of salmon.

After dessert, Debbie cornered her in the kitchen and asked if they could talk somewhere. Putting up her finger while she poured another glass of wine, Becky nodded and followed Deb to a bedroom, where she sat on a tasteful quilt blanket and had a tasteful restrained conversation about the impossibility of letting her father see Ruth secretly the next time she was in Birmingham.

“She is his only grandchild, Becks.”

“Well, they should have thought about that possibility when they kicked me out. Three months pregnant. Pronounced me a shonda, and disowned me.”

“Do you really want to have Ruth grow up without her grandparents?”

“I didn’t make that decision, Debbie, they did. Maybe, maybe, maybe if Papa was willing to admit how wrong they were, and stand up to Mama, and if he had any backbone at all and publicly welcomed me home for everyone to see, for Ruth to experience a true family, maybe.”

Debbie responded with a knowing look. “Well, I told Papa I was gonna see you when he called earlier, and I promised to ask, but I don’t blame you. I wish Ruth was here now, it’s been too long. And this guy, hmmm? Sounds promising. He wants you to move here?” Becky gulped her wine down first, rubbing her sister's arm. 

“Yup, yes, mhmmm. Oh yeah, finally, right? Everything’s coming up Becky. I can’t wait for you to meet him, because I’ll definitely be back up here with Ruth after she finishes camp. Ah, yes, mmhmmm.” She downed the last sip of wine, smiling so enthusiastically she almost laughed at how absurd the charade was. “I feel like, ugh, finally, right? I’m finally getting that happiness I searched for, for so long. ”

*********************************************************************

“You are never going to find happiness.” Becky said to the fork of coconut cake as she brought it to her mouth, letting the sweet, sticky crunchy sugar do its work comforting her momentarily as she chewed it and swallowed it down with some chocolate milk. The door to the kitchen opened, and she jerked her head up to see little Lisa Marie poke her head around.

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, late night cake?” Becky answered.

“Have you been crying?” Lisa asked as she stepped closer, getting herself a plate and a piece of cake.

“No, honey, no, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is it cuz of my daddy?”

Becky shook her head, too vigorously perhaps. “Npoooo no nononoo. No. It’s just been a long day.”

“You’re a bad liar, Becky Butt,” Lisa said, taking a big bite of cake, and then rubbing Becky’s shoulder. It broke her heart to see Lisa’s genuine look of pity staring up at her as she tried to comfort Becky. “Why is he like this? Mommy says he ruins every relationship and he’ll never truly be happy.”

Becky laughed at Lisa’s matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, my dear, I think your mama is very wise, but who knows what the future will bring. I do know your daddy loves you, that’s a relationship that makes him happy. Trust me, my parents never openly showed me love the way I see him show you. He’s a good man. There are just some things I might do differently if I were him.”

Lisa looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I’d carry around less guns, I guess, that's dangerous. And maybe wear less jewelry, probably out there blinding people with all those dazzling gems and diamonds all over his person.”

Lisa laughed out loud as she finished her cake, and let Becky walk her up the stairs where she tucked Lisa back into bed and then returned to the kitchen.

Becky was down on her knees, looking through the drawers under the phone when she heard the door behind her slam shut. Glancing up, she saw Elvis’ broad figure swagger slowly toward her in the dimness of the kitchen lit only by one of the lights under a cabinet. He sighed and stopped, hands bracing the front of his hips, spread out fully extending his fingers as they tapped a little ditty over the sides of his belly. 

With his jacket pushed back at the hips, he looked even wider and more intimidating than usual. His lips were pursed in a frown at the sight of Becky in the jeans, converse and Destin tee shirt she had been wearing when she left Jackson the previous Sunday.

“Huh, hey.”

Becky turned back to look up at him. “Oh, hey!”

He adjusted his stance, pivoting his feet and twitching his left knee, his thumbs tapping over his belt.

“Watcha doin’?”

“You don’t know where the yellow pages are, do you? I’ve been looking for a phone book for the last fifteen minutes.”

Elvis sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “Why, uh, why ya looking for the phone book?”

“Well, maybe you can help me.”

Becky returned her attention to the kitchen drawers in front of her, trying not to flinch as she heard the thud of Elvis boots walk closer and stop directly behind her. She chose not to twist back around and look at him, afraid she might cry or be dramatic, so she decided to speak directly into the drawers as she continued to look through them.

“You see, I’m trying to find a number for a local cab company, so I can get to the Greyhound station.”

“Mhmmm. I noticed your bag in the foyer.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Becky sighed, shutting one drawer and then opening another. “Well, you see, it just dills my pickle to be all prepared and ready to go when I call up a car to come get me. Although I had rather hoped I would have been gone before you got back, I didn’t want to bother you. But, since you’re here, maybe you can make yourself useful and help find the phone book?”

Elvis bent and leaned over the island that jutted out of the counter at the front of the kitchen.

“Honey, I have absolutely no intention a helpin’ you find a phone book.”

Becky stopped and fell back against the cupboard next to the set of drawers, her legs stretching out over the dark, burgundy carpet that covered the kitchen.She banged her hand back and closed her eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just give me the phonebook?”

Elvis walked over and stood above Becky, his hand reaching down. “Cuz I don’t want you ta leave, honey. Not like this. C’mon, let’s talk. If you still wanna go home, why, I’ll drive you back to Jackson myself, like I promised.”

Becky glared up at his hand. “No.”

“What, you just gonna stay there on the ground?”

“Mhmmm.” She crossed her legs and her arms and tilted back into the cabinet. “Yup, yessiree. This is my home now, til I get a cab, I reckon.”

Elvis meandered over slowly and groaned as he lowered himself next to her on the floor. He moved his hand out to touch hers, only to be rebuked by their swift retreat back under her breasts in a huff of crossed arms and limbs. He rolled his neck to meet her gaze against the wooden cabinet.

“Honey, you are actin’ like a child. This is all one big misunderstanding. Now, c’mon.”

Elvis put his hand over her thigh, but Becky swatted it away, so he grabbed the foot she had criss crossed over her knee, and rolled into her shoulder as he scooted closer, squeezing her foot.

“Becky, look, you know I have other friends —”

“Girl friends, yes, I know about them, but apparently they don’t know about me. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt? Lying, looking at your beautiful beauty queen girlfriend, pretending to be Charlie’s cousin?” She pressed her face against the cupboard and let the tears come pouring out. “Ugh, I am so stupid, I know this isn’t me. I am not cut out to be the other woman.”

“Sssshhh.” Elvis put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, massaging her as he drew her body into his, bringing her head to nuzzle in his chest, where she gave up and grasped his shirt, letting the sobs come out as she cried into him. “Sshhhh. S’ok, s’ok.”

“No, s’not ok, ugh, I’m a horrible person, a traitor to my sex.” Her fist bumped tepidly into Elvis’ chest. She looked up at his chuckles. “What, why are you laughing at me?”

“Baby, you are too pretty to cry. Now, come on. Linda is not my wife, she knows it, I know it, things haven’t been going well and our relationship has been sorta peeterin’ out. But I have to do things my own way, ok? Her brother is on the police force, it made sense, right now, for me to take her as my date. But I swear, nothing happened. I’m here with you. At my house. Would I have a mistress at my house, where I lived, if I was keeping her a secret?”

Becky wiped her eyes. “You think she knows about me? She knew when she met me?”

Elvis sucked in his breath. “Honey, I don’t know, and frankly, right now I don’t care who knows. I-I, I didn’t wanna get into it tonight. But Linda knows well enough how it is with me. Look, I want to be with you, here, now. So let’s be together, and let’s go to bed.”

He said this with finality, and stood up, groaning slightly and steadying himself against the sink,  and Becky followed, exhaling loudly as she pulled herself up on his outstretched hand and walked with him out of the kitchen, still sniffling and wiping her eyes into his silk dress shirt.

“Ok, but only because the floor was starting to feel uncomfortable. And I couldn’t find the phone book.”

Elvis smiled and Becky watched his cheeks twitch above the pout of his mouth, and she couldn’t help it, she led herself into his embrace.

“There now, lil girl, why you go get yourself all worked up like that?”

Becky looked down, blushing trying to just calm herself and feel good about making peace, or whatever it was she was doing. Giving in. No, you are having fun, she told herself. It’s silly to be upset over Linda, and was the use of fighting? This is a short, fun, little fling. Somehow his logic made sense at the same time that it made no sense at all. Becky’s head ached trying to sort it out, she decided that she was tired and exhausted and still a little tipsy, and needed to stop fighting and let herself fall forward into Elvis’ pliant, warm belly. He took a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wiped her eyes, then softly pressed his lips to Becky’s mouth.

 “Mmmm, baby, those are some salty lips.” 

Elvis lifted his hand, thumbing over her lower lip slowly, it made Becky gasp and she watched him respond with a smirk. He leaned in slowly, and Becky shivered when he breathed on her, watching with anticipation as he  licked his own lip and hesitated with a wider smirk before pressing his mouth into hers. More forcefully this time, his hands soothing up her sides. 

“S’alright now, s’alright, no more cryin, ok, lil girl? Too pretty ta cry like this. Goin’ on and making my favorite lips all salty. "

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[mdhwrites]

Amphibia's Ending is SOOOO Much Better Than People Made Me Believe

So I remember back in S2 when I watched "A Day at the Aquarium" expecting to be upset about the finale like a lot of the people I'd followed were when the finale came out. After all, with them being so close, why would they choose to leave? Could they really justify them just dropping the stones and moving on from these bonds they made?

And... That's what the story wants right then. But it was an assumption built off of false impressions that I want to talk about because the ending is REALLY smart in making its points. But to talk about an ending, I feel like I should bring up its beginning. This isn't always necessary but Amphibia actually includes what is effectively a primordial sin. A first failing that causes everything to happen.

A scared girl who is told that change is coming and that she must give up those she is closest to finds out that with some magic, she can make it all go away.

NEVER is this portrayed as having been the right thing to do. NEVER is the show about justifying Marcy's decision. Instead, the show's entire purpose... Is about letting go. It's about how the experiences we keep from others are more important than keeping those people beside us. Otherwise, controlling people, forcing them to be like you, the goals of Sasha and the Core, would be painted as correct. Chances to be together forever, doing whatever they want and never having to change.

So it ending with the trio having to say goodbye to the connections they've made is kind of the only way it COULD have ended. First is the fact that neither Sasha or Marcy would have accepted Anne dying at the start of the series. Anne would never have been willing to take such responsibility or sacrifice. She wouldn't have been willing to embrace such a painful change, just like how early on in the series she rejected the frogs and their culture outright.

And here is where we get my first misconception. I thought Anne was straight up given her second life for her deeds or because she made a deal that she'd be willing to be god if allowed to live her life. This is as much on me as anyone else but can we talk about the brilliance of Anne's resurrection? She's only saved to become a god. Theoretically, turning down the position is choosing to die again. It doubles down on how Anne has accepted change, no matter how dire. She even has good reason because like the Core said "Full of heart but dumb as rocks." She's made PLENTY of mistakes in this season, even as we've gotten to enjoy what a resplendent person she's grown up as. The fact that she's willing to admit that is beautiful, especially for any coming of age story.

And it's a good argument. One full of the sort of wisdom a god needs. So this bored cat of a god likes it. Likes it enough that without giving Anne a choice decides to let her get some more training before coming back to work for him. It's keeping in line with the explanation that he gave for the stones. He was CURIOUS about what mortals would do with ultimate power and was disappointed for TEN. THOUSAND. YEARS.

And here we get misconception two which I think is much more on the fandom. No one DECIDES to put the stones away. No one decides to cut off the worlds from each other. Hell, on the human side of things, one could argue that it's not closed, they just need a better power source since the music box just uses, well, music. No, the stones are gone because someone more powerful than them is tired of their trouble and removed them.

And so we're right back where we began. Having to be told to say goodbye and that you don't have the time to do it how you might. Yes, they technically have a choice to stay but let's actually talk about if any of them actually have a reason to want to be there.

ALL of the newts have only ever used Marcy (even when Yunan and Olivia save her, it's explicitly because of her mind, not because it's the right thing to do) and it took until she was STABBED for any of them to actually care about her with even basic humanity. This is not her world. And yes, her parents will force her to leave things behind but A: At least they were honest with her! And B:... Running from that choice hurt so many people before. Why would she choose that now? Why would she choose to suddenly claim to have learned nothing and considered herself right to have stranded them all there by stranding herself now?

Sasha may have made great connections but the point for her character is to give up control and prestige. She could live in this land as a hero and general, leading how things will be shaped, potentially in her image even... And it doesn't even cross her mind. She probably knows she has a lot to set right back on Earth. Besides, you know, there's just the basic fact that being literally the only human here would be a bit of an existential problem. It would still would also mean running away from finishing the work she needs to put in to become a better friend and mend the rifts between her, Anne and Marcy (I'll get to the ten year gap, bear with me).

And finally Anne. She has her parents to go back to. She does still prefer life on Earth, even if she came to love Amphibia. Hell, the fact that she does clearly prefer Earth, as showcased in S3A, actually makes her sacrifice MORE impactful because she's not doing this just because it's her home. She's doing it because she cares and because of the connections she's made.

But just like she was with the core, she is brave enough to say goodbye. Just because someone isn't right next to you doesn't mean they've left you. Honestly, in an age of constant communication, I love that. A reminder that you can take your time. You don't have to talk every day, do things together constantly, etc. like that just because you can. You are still your own person with your own life but you can carry the support and love those people gave/give you even when you're not face to face.

And so rather than run from change, they admit it's painful, they cry, they celebrate, they joke... And then they're gone. There is literally no better ending for this story than that.

It even follows through with the epilogue. Marcy, Anne and Sasha were codependent. S3 actually reinforces a lot that their negative traits are still there, or have new ones related to each other, even as they've grown. Anne still can't say no to people she cares about like with Sprig's Birthday and Give a Frog a Cookie. She still can't entirely trust that Sasha isn't self serving like in Sasha's Angels. She has scars that will take time to heal and change, just like she pointed out to Marcy in New Wartwood.

Sasha though has a whole NEW heap of issues though. She's gone from being controlling to subservient. Anne says jump, she'd say off what. She is terrified of making the same mistakes twice. She is constantly trying to seek forgiveness. That is NOT a healthy place to be as a person and it's almost entirely wrapped up around Anne. Them deciding they were okay with just staying in touch, rather than being on top of each other... is actually great.

Marcy doesn't have as much to say but she moved... And she figured out how to handle the human realm like she did Amphibia: Alone. Who she was and how to be herself rather than relying on Sasha and Anne or needing them.

But was ten years necessary? I mean... Kind of actually. If Anne STARTS the series turning thirteen, she still has this school year and 5 more to finish for primary school. Then since at least two of them sought degrees, you have four more years where Sasha and Anne might not have even been in the same state, let alone the same town, and Marcy MOVED. She literally couldn't come back unless the fates decreed until she was 18 and she might have chosen to persue an artistic degree so there's another 4 years for her.

Then one year after college to settle in, get the money for trips, etc. like that and... Yeah, ten years sounds about right because life's a bitch. Almost like that's one of the lessons of Amphibia. But as it also says: Those bad times don't need to be only bad. You never know what will come back to find you and be better than it ever was.

So yeah, I'm definitely not just in the camp that the Amphibia ending is good but that it almost couldn't be improved. Small things, mostly pacing wise, maybe but thematically and how it does those beats? Not really. Not when this is so focused on one goal.

And I'll take dedication to your concept over giving the audience a simple, happily ever after ANY day.

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I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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