#anyways hopefully y'all will not stop thinking about it too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginespazzi · 4 months

Text

Our Little Corner of Eternity

A little peek into what happens after they find eternity

(In which an angst writer realizes maybe she kind of enjoys writing fluff and this is the outcome)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff and more fluff

Words: 2.0K

TW: Explicit-ish sexual content (right at the beginning if you want to skip like 10 line dents to avoid it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 We're gonna keep doing these here because I think it works better. Anyways, I know I said I'd give y'all part 1 of the UCLA fic as "pick me up" and I tried so hard to finish it last night but everything I wrote was just so meh and I kinda need that series to be exactly what I want it to be. So instead y'all get an actual "pick me up" in the form of a Here's To Eternity epilogue/Valentine's day (week?) fic with fluffy happiness and cute little kids. Can y'all believe I chose to write fluff instead of angst? Like who am I? Anyways I wrote this all last night and so the editing exists but is *minimal* and so absolutely tell me any mistakes. One day I'll stop doing long author's notes I swear. Anyways (take a shot every time I say that), I hope y'all enjoy this and hopefully y'all get part 1 soon too! <3

***

“Happy Valentine’s day baby,” a voice whispers into Paige’s ears, followed by a litany of kisses being peppered onto her skin, starting at her cheeks and then to her neck. She smiles, eyes still closed, relishing the feeling of getting a rare quiet morning in her wife’s arms. Her hands come up to hold Azzi’s hips as she straddles her thighs. A low whine escapes her lips, when the younger woman bites against her shoulder, hands moving to caress Paige’s exposed stomach, fingers dancing experimentally against the waistband of boxers.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Paige warns; she doesn’t mean it one bit.

“Who said I couldn’t finish it?” her wife retorts snarkily and Paige can hear the smirk in her voice, “when have I ever left you unfinished.”

Azzi continues to tease, sucking marks into Paige necks, her hands creeping into Paige boxers, hovering but not touching. Anticipation burns in her core as Paige thrusts against the brunette’s still fingers, trying to create the friction she’s desperately craving.

“So wet for me already,” Azzi whispers, nibbling at Paige’s earlobe “but you have to ask for what you want sweetheart.”

She brushes her fingers lightly against the exact spot she knows Paige wants them, feather light and not anywhere near as hard or fast as the blonde needs it and is rewarded with a breathy moan.

“Words baby, words,” Azzi presses her fingers a little harder as she places a kiss on the edge of Paige’s lips. She moves away immediately when the older woman tries to pull her into an actual kiss, giggling when Paige pouts, “morning breath.”

“I hate you,” the blond breathes out, still not opening her eyes

“Do you now?” Azzi teases, finally swirling a finger inside, arching it just right and the sound Paige lets out is practically pornographic.

She’s about to give in and beg like she knows Azzi has been waiting for her to do when a loud knock on the door throws any chance of morning sex out the window.

“Mommy? Mama?” a small voice calls out. It’s almost offending the speed with which Azzi climbs off of her, immediately rushing into their ensuite bathroom to clean off her fingers. Paige groans at the loss of contact, eyes finally opening.

“Maybe if we don’t say anything they’ll leave,” she says petulantly.

“MOMMY? MAMA?” there’s two voices now, both screaming at the top of their lungs.

“We’re sleeping,” Paige yells back but she can’t help the fond smile that appears on her face.

“I swear I have three children,” Azzi mutters under her breath, as she reappears from the bathroom, shooting Paige a disapproving glance. Her wife raises her hands in mock surrender as she finally sits up. Shaking her head at Paige’s smirk, Azzi opens the door to reveal the two tiny little humans that she’s still a little shocked to say are her children.

“Mommy,” the two of them squeal, grabby hands wrapping around Azzi’s knees and she can’t help but laught. She’s loved a lot of people in her life, her parents, her brothers, Paige but the love she feels for her twins, it’s a whole other level. She'd die for them in a heartbeat and if necessary, she’d kill the whole world for them.

Paige’s heart swells as she watches Azzi fall to her knees and wrap their twins in a bear hug, pressing kisses that elicit happy giggles all over their chubby cheeks. She’s been lucky enough to earn plenty of accolades and awards but the three people tangled in a mess of limbs on her bedroom floor, this is her greatest gift.

“Guess you’ve all forgotten me,” Paige pouts, from where she’s still sprawled in the bed. That’s all it takes for the two children to catapult onto the bed, both of them jumping on top of Paige, their combined weight causing her to fall back down and laughter echoes through the bedroom.

“We could never forget you Mama,” Sienna says diligently and she has a lisp from her first tooth falling out. Miles doesn’t say anything, simply burrowing his head further into Paige’s neck but she can feel him smiling against her skin.

“Because I’m your favourite right?” Paige asks, voice very serious and it earns her an eye roll from Azzi.

“Silly Mama,” Sienna shakes her head, tiny hands framing her mother’s face, “you can’t have a favourite mom.”

Azzi ruffles her daughter’s hair, coming to sit beside the three of them, “you’re so smart Si.”

“And me Mommy?” Miles peeks out from Paige’s neck, looking expectantly at his other mother.

“You too Mi,” Azzi assures fondly.

It’s funny how the couple of minutes of age difference between the twins shows so clearly sometimes. Sienna, the older one, always acts just a little bit wiser. Paige’s mom says she’s five going on fifty. And Miles is still a baby, one hand always attached to one of his mother’s as he watches his sister run wild. They couldn’t be more opposite. They couldn’t be more like a little part of Paige and Azzi.

“We have a gift for you Mama,” Sienna says proudly jutting out her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, Paige can see Azzi grinning and her curiosity keens.

“For me?” Paige pulls herself up, bringing her son who’s still clinging to her neck up with her, “what for darling?”

This time it’s Miles who replies matter-of-factly, “because it’s Valentine’s day Mama. And we love you.”

It shouldn’t affect her this much anymore, her son telling her he loves her. Miles has said it to her plenty of times at this point but each time he does, Paige feels her heart burst open in happiness.

“Well, where is it?” she asks, pretending to search for it under Miles’s shirt and then behind Sienna’s ear. It earns her a shriek of laughter and to top it off, a radiant smile from her wife.

“Go get it Si,” Azzi urges and obediently Sienna does as she’s told.

“You know what it is?” Paige asks, raising her eyebrows. All she gets is a conspiratorial wink.

“It’s a surprise Mama, Mommy can’t tell you,” Miles warns and Azzi immediately puts a hand to her lips and nods.

It doesn’t take long for Sienna to come skipping back in. In her hands is a neatly wrapped box with a bow in it. It’s relatively small and Paige truly has no idea what it could potentially be but she knows she’ll love it no matter what.

Sienna bounces back onto the bed, the spring of it all almost causing her to tumble backwards but Azzi’s instincts are far too sharpened to let that happen. She protectively pulls her daughter onto her lap, pressing a kiss against her temple. Of course they don’t have favourites but still it’s not hard to see how Sienna gravitates a little towards Azzi and Miles gravitates towards Paige. Azzi theorises it's probably because Miles is a little more like her and Sienna’s a little more like Paige.

“Alright,” Paige says excitedly, as Sienna carefully hands her the present, “let’s see what this is.”

Two pairs of big doey bright eyes watch with bated breath as their mother carefully unwraps their present. The wrapping paper falls away to reveal a box covered in pictures of their family. There's pictures of her and Azzi, and pictures of them with the twins. Paige lets out a soft sob, as she realises by the slight messiness of it all that Miles and Sienna were clearly the ones to glue them onto the box. The little bits of glitter and stickers peeking out against the photographs gives it away.

“You guys,” she whispers, “this is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.”

“You have to open it,” Sienna replies excitedly and Paige does as she’s told. She flips the lid open and gasps, eyes immediately darting towards Azzi. Her wife’s eyes are already moist as she smiles back softly.

In the box is a set of four rings. Two large ones and two tiny ones. Not just any rings. Perfect replicas of that stupid ugly beautiful pink ring that Azzi had won at the pop-a-shot back when they were fifteen. And when she looks at them closer, Paige realises, her heart catching in her throat, that one of them isn’t a replica. It’s slightly rusted around the edges and Paige knows immediately that it’s the first ring she’d ever placed on Azzi’s fingers.

“Baby,” she breathes, looking up at Azzi at a loss for what to say. A thousand and one memories are swirling in her head, all captioned with the thought of how did I get so lucky.

“There’s four Mama,” Miles interrupts before Paige can say anything, “one for you, one for Mommy, one for Si and one for me!”

Paige lets out a tearful laugh at her son’s excitement as he points at each of them one by one, “I can see that Mi.”

“You have to put them on us,” Sienna tells her before thrusting her tiny hand out, “and then we’re gonna be connected for life.”

“We’re already connected for life you goof,” Paige says, as she slides one of the rings onto Sienna’s finger and then presses a kiss onto the younger girl’s palms. She turns to Miles and repeats the same actions.

“Me first,” Azzi says when Paige turns to her, “you got to do it first when we got married.”

“It’s not a competition Az.”

“Says you,” Azzi smirks, before she grabs Paige’s hand and places the ring on her left hand, right above her actual wedding ring, “perfect.”

“You’re so cheesy. I can’t believe you kept it,” Paige says, her eyes shining as she slides the old ring onto Azzi’s ring finger.

“It’s my engagement ring. Of course I kept it,” Azzi says with such sincerity, that Paige can’t help but lean over and kiss her.

A chorus of “ew” breaks them apart and they’re met with two children and their crinkled noses.

“Hmm what have I said about interrupting Mama and Mommy?” Paige asks sternly.

“Not to do it,” the twins recite in unison.

Paige turns to Azzi with a knowing smile, “do you think they’ve learned that Az?”

“You know what babe, I don’t think they have.”

“And what happens to children who don’t learn their lessons?” this time they both look at their children with matching grins.

“They get TICKLED,” Paige and Azzi yell in unison. Miles and Sienna squeal with laughter as their mothers flip them onto the bed, poking at their stomachs. And it’s unclear whose hand is whose and whose legs are whose as the four of them become a pile of bodies, all of them meshing into one.

“Okay, okay I think,” Azzi’s the first one to recover as always, “we should have pancakes for breakfast.”

“In heart shapes!” the twins squeal in unison.

“Of course. How about the two of you go and brush your teeth and Mama and I will be down in a second okay?”

Miles and Sienna nod before jumping out of bed at their mother’s command. They sing some ridiculously out-of-tune song about pancakes as they skip out of the room. Immediately, Paige pulls Azzi back into her, slotting their legs together.

“You still owe me an orgasm.”

Azzi smiles, pressing her lips to Paige’s and then pulling away far too quickly, “I’ll give you plenty tonight. But you better match each one wifey.”

“You know I will,” Paige smirks, bringing her wife in for one last kiss before they both get up, ready for a not-so-quiet morning with their kind.

Valentine’s day used to be different. Sometimes they never got out of bed. Sometimes they spent the day in another country. Sometimes they went on extravagant dates that felt straight out of a movie. Now, well, they’ll make pancakes with their kids and then probably watch some terrible children’s show that they’ve both, unfortunately, memorized the dialogues of. And in between, they’ll probably fall asleep on the couch and wake up to little guilty faces informing them about a spilled drink or a broken object. But it’s perfect really. As long as it’s the four of them and their little corner of eternity.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

130 notes · View notes

inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

Go Easy On Me

pairing: scotty ✘ black!reader

summary: dean introduces you to his friend when your shower needs fixing and you find yourself being drawn to her rather quickly.

word count: 3564

contains: fluff, reader making scotty flustered, scotty being her anxious, shy, sweet, emotional self

tags: @verachii @szalipcombo @rxcently @coolestgay @widowmakker @fetchyourlife @blackgcomica @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @simp4iwaizumi

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: i honestly don't know how i feel about this. i think it's kinda cute i guess, and i can see myself writing a pt. 2 if y'all would want that. i just wanted to write something cute for my baby scotty cause i need her to be taken care of lol. enjoy <3

"Ah fuck!" Your body jerked back when you stepped under the ice-cold droplets raining down from your shower head. Third time this week. You had no idea how much more of this you were willing to take. Cold showers in the sweltering London heat were doable, but it was mid-December now, and freezing your tits off was not an option.

Shutting the water off, you wrapped your towel around your body and headed across the hall — this routine of showering at Dean's every afternoon before work was getting old. You didn't even bother knocking; the door was always open anyway.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, again?" Freddie lowered the toast from his mouth mid-bite.

You rolled your eyes, "Yes, again."

"We ought to start charging ya for using up all the hot water."

Dean appeared out of his room then, smiling when he saw you, "Oh babe, is your shower out again?"

"And you leave your hair all on the walls!"

"Shut it, Freddie!" Dean turned back to face you, "When are you gonna have that looked at?"

You sighed; you did need to get it checked out. You'd discovered that your flat was the only one in the building with this little water issue. "The coffee shop only pays so much, Dean. I have bills, rent."

"Well, babe, if money is the only thing stopping you, I told you my friend would be more than willing to do it for free. She's like a lesbian Handy Manny."

The offer was tempting, and you were desperate, but the idea of not being able to pay someone for their service was not one you enjoyed. "I don't know, Dean. Maybe if I knew–"

"Well, speak of the devil! Scotts, there's someone I want you to meet!" Dean's tone was chipper, and you whipped around to follow it. Your eyes landed on a short-haired cutie at the entrance. Fighting your smile at the sight of her was impossible, like her presence warranted a big grin.

You stuck your hand out, and she shook it timidly. "Uh, I'm Scotty."

"Hi, Scotty." Her obvious averting of your towel-clad body was adorable. Her baggy jeans and flannel practically swallowed her whole under her coat. Anxious eyes wandered the open living space, attempting to focus on something, anything, that was not your half-naked frame.

The small thrill it brought you was something you hadn't felt in a long time. You were rethinking your stance now; maybe letting Scotty fix your shower wasn't such a bad idea.

Your smile morphed into a smirk when you caught her eyes scanning you for a split second before she ripped them away. "Scotts, the shower in the flat across the hall is on the fritz. You think you can check it out?"

You bit your lip, smiling slyly, "You don't have to if you're too busy. I can't pay you."

"Um, y-yeah. I can do that, can't right now, though. Got work in an hour." She looked you in the eyes for the first time since she'd arrived, and you couldn't help but swoon at their deep brown shade. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is perfect." You beamed at her, and she blushed. There was a tug of something brewing between the pair of you. It was irrational and immediate, given you'd only met, but it was something you felt needed to be explored. "I'm off to your shower Dean, hopefully for the last time. If Scotty here is as amazing with her hands as you say, I will be enjoying my own hot water come tomorrow."

Her eyes were saucers at your words, and she chuckled nervously, watching you saunter into the bathroom. You switched your hips as you walked away because of course you did, and feeling her stare bore into your back was the reward you were hoping for.

•••

A knock at your door jerked you awake. Groaning, you rolled over to glance at the time, 9:09 a.m.

“Hello? You in? It’s Scotty. I’m here about your shower like we talked about.”

Fuck. You scrambled out of bed, tangling in your covers and falling to the floor.

“You alright in there?” She sounded concerned on the other side of the door. You hadn’t forgotten she was coming; you just didn't think she would be this early. Working the late shift did not do wonders for your sleep schedule, and now Scotty was going to see just how much of a toll making coffee took on you.

When you finally reached your feet, you peeped in the mirror. Under-eye bags and dark circles, great. “Yeah, just need a second!” You scurried to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. At least now, your morning breath wouldn’t melt her face off.

You opened the door, and she flinched, but soon a gentle smile decorated her features. “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it's early, but this was the only time I could come. I told my boss I was gonna be late today. The call center I work at is pretty lenient, so I could get away with that. Then I came straight here. I hope that's okay.”

You giggled at her nervous rambling, and puppy dog eyes, begging for forgiveness for a crime she did not commit. “Scotty, it's fine. Come in.”

“Okay. Cool, cool.” She crossed your threshold and stood awkwardly in your living room, toolbox clutched between her fingers, awaiting further instruction.

Leaning back against your couch, you eyed her. Scotty’s curious eyes roamed your home. They traveled around the space until they landed on you. She let her eyes trail your long legs to your large exposed thighs in your pajama shorts. A stifled breath lodged in her throat at the sight of your boobs perched in the t-shirt you wore.

You couldn't help your grin at her shamelessness in checking you out. She was unaware of you watching her until her eyes found yours. Caught. She knew it, and her shy blush was evidence of that: shock, embarrassment, remorse — emotions filtered through her rapidly.

“Is it appropriate to check a client out?”

Scotty cleared her throat, stuttering in attempts to speak. “Uh, I’m sorry. I-I wasn't… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m–” She fiddled with her fingers.

“I'm quite comfortable with you watching me, Scotty.” You leered at her.

She shook her head, “Sorry. We can get to the shower now, is the bathroom through here?”

“We can get to the shower, but I don't think we would enjoy ourselves much, babe. Freezing water and all that. Unless you're into that sorta thing.”

Her brows shot up. “No! That's not, that's not what I meant. I meant I can get to fixing your shower now.”

“Well, why didn't you say that, silly? Had me thinking you had ulterior motives coming round my place this early.” Your smile was bright, the complete opposite of hers; small and unsure.

You led her to the tub and turned the water on. “It goes in and out usually, but the past few weeks, it's just been cold.”

She stepped closer, putting her hand under the water to test it. “Do you know where your water heater is?”

“No? Am I to know that?” You scrunched your nose, and she laughed a little.

She shook her wet hands off in the tub before turning the knob. “Usually you would, yeah. I'm sure that's the issue here. Your water pressure is good.”

“If I were a water heater, where would I be?” You tapped your chin dramatically, scanning your apartment. Her little giggle brought to life the butterflies in your stomach, fluttering and begging to be released.

“I think it's just here.” She said with a smile. Scotty turned the handle of a door you had no idea existed. You’d been in the flat for about three months, yet discovered something new about the place daily. Today: secret door leading to water heater.

She stepped inside the tiny space, examining the large tank. “Can you hand me a wrench out of my toolbox, please?”

“Right, cool. Which one's the wrench again?” The reaction on her face was priceless, and you bit back a chuckle. “I know what a wrench is Scotty, relax.”

Soft fingers brushed the back of your hand as you handed her the tool. Funny, working with her hands regularly did not strip them of their tenderness. Your butterflies grew increasingly impatient, needing to meet the person responsible for waking them. She let her fingers linger longer than necessary, and you were not complaining.

You found yourself enjoying the feeling of her touch. It pulled you in, and it made your insides tingle.

Watching her work on the heater was only making things worse. She'd removed her flannel, leaving her in her white tank top. Scotty’s muscles flexed with each movement, droplets of sweat forming on her upper arms and forehead. You exhaled a long breath when she bit her lip, deep in thought about what to do next. Not only was she adorable, but she was fucking sexy. She was very skilled at what she did; intricate, focused. It drove you mad.

She smirked and flipped a screwdriver in her hand triumphantly. “I fixed it!”

“Sorry, what?” She entranced you, and she was none the wiser. Scotty repeated herself, and you shook your head. “Oh! Do we check the water now?”

“Yes.” The back of her hand swiped across her forehead, and you considered fainting. But instead, you followed behind her to your bathroom, watching as her shoulder muscles contorted.

Sitting at the tub's edge, she turned the water on, repeating her movements from earlier. A large smile broke free on her face as she beckoned you closer. “It's hot.”

You sat next to her, tangling your fingers in the warm stream of water flowing from the tap. You could moan at the feeling, and you did. You glanced up at her eyes, feeling that tug from yesterday return. They twinkled before you, and you smirked.

“It is hot.” Ambiguity loomed in the air with the steam. Clueless as ever, Scotty only smiled.

You stood, throwing your arms around her excitedly. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I could kiss you right now. Oh my god!”

Her eyes darted around the room as she scratched the back of her neck. “Um, it's nothing, really. I didn't do much.”

You batted your eyelashes at her. “You did more than you know, Scotty. You actually kinda saved my life, yeah? I wish I could pay you back.”

“Oh, you don't have to. I'm just happy to help.” And you knew she meant that. Scotty seemed like the type who wanted to make others happy. It was a beautiful attribute to possess, indeed.

“Tell you what. Come by my work later, and I’ll give you a free coffee and scone on the house. It's the least I can do.”

She grinned at you in that timid way you found yourself growing fond of. “I’d like that.”

Staring at her and into those beautiful, kind eyes filled you with something you were unaware you were missing. Warm and gooey, and you refused to rip your stare away from her. Scotty’s gaze was just as intense as your own. She felt the pull too, and it was apparent she had no clue what to do with it.

“You're adorable. You know that?” Your whisper knocked her off-kilter, and you shook your head. You knew you wouldn't get a response, and you were fine with that.

She eyed your lips, as you spoke to her. “I’ll get your things for you.”

You gathered her tools as she watched you, back pressed against your front door. She stalked your movements, and her breathing hitched when you bent over to pick up the last one.

“I hope you don't gawk at paying customers that way. Not sure it'd be good for business.” Standing in front of her, you could see the longing swimming around in her eyes.

She dipped her head as she took her toolbox. Lightning fingers struck you again, and you gasped. “Sorry.”

“And what exactly are you apologizing for, Scotty?” Your smirk was playful, and you knew you had her.

She gnawed on her bottom lip sheepishly, tripping over her words. A sight you wanted to see as often as time would allow. Trapping her was entertaining, teasing her — enticing. “I-I should get to work.”

“Mmm. You should. I’ll see you later, right? At the Brew Box?”

She only nodded, and she was out the door.

•••

“Have a nice day!” Your excitement was forced and fake. Irritation consumed you as you handed the customer their hot chocolate. You didn't hate your job, not entirely, but you did have a strong disdain for the customers filtering in and out.

None of them was the short, shy mechanic who fixed your hot water issues that very morning. So they did not matter.

Scotty never specified when she would be by, so every time the bell above the front door dinged, your head shot up in hopes it was her. It never was, and your mood soured. Your shift dragged on slower than usual, and your co-workers noticed your detached state. By eleven, it was closing time, and Scotty had not shown. There was a sting in your chest. You couldn’t understand why someone you met only yesterday standing you up felt so… off, but it did.

By the time you got home that night, you were so tired you could pass out. Ridding your body of your coffee-stained uniform, you climbed into your shower. Hot, soothing water massaged and embraced your skin, working out the tension built up there. The streams crashing onto you made your mind wander to Scotty. Thoughts of her consumed you as you cleaned yourself under the water she made possible. You were out like a light when you put on your bonnet and wrapped your covers around yourself.

Pounding at your door intruded on your dreams. “Fuck off!”

“Um, it’s Scotty.” The softest voice you’d ever heard. It jolted you out the bed and to the door. When you opened it, there she stood. “Hi.”

It took everything in you not to squeal at the sight of her. She wore a blue and black flannel today: the same green coat and the same baggy jeans. You smiled wide. “Hi, Scotty.”

Scotty fumbled with her fingers, something she obviously did when she was nervous. “I noticed that the hinge on your bathroom door was loose when I was here yesterday. Oh, and there’s a chip in your sink. Thought I’d fix them? If you’re cool with that.”

Her eyes darted around, avoiding yours altogether. You nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “You trying to spoil me, Scotty? Coming all this way to fix a creaky door and a chipped sink?”

“I only live ten minutes from here.” Her cluelessness baffled you, honestly.

Knowingly, she shot straight to the bathroom with her toolbox. Your heart jumped a little at her knowing her way around your flat and noticing little things that needed fixing. Something you wouldn’t even care to notice. Attentive. You liked that.

“How's the water treating ya?” She placed the screwdriver between her lips and pushed onto her tip-toes to reach the top of your bathroom door. Nothing she said registered when she looked like that. It was evident Scotty had zero clue about the effect she had on you, how worked up you got from watching her tinker with her tools.

She stared at you expectantly with a head tilt when you didn’t answer. “It’s still working fine, right? You need me to take a look at it again? Because I can, I’ll have to call off work but that’s okay. I was–”

You shook your head, “What? No, the water is fine, babe. Perfect, actually.”

“Oh. Okay then.” She tried hiding her blush, but it lingered long enough for you to catch it.

“Missed you yesterday.” Even though your voice came out small, it still managed to make Scotty flinch.

She was working on your sink now, sanding the chip she fixed. When she emerged, she wore a frown. “I'm sorry. I wanted to come, I just–I. Something came up.”

“It's okay, I understand.” You walked towards her as she cleaned her hands with a rag. Fuck, even that was sexy. Watching her get in between her fingers, her palms. You almost moaned out loud.

She hadn't noticed you approaching, and she jumped at the visual of you directly in front of her. “So jumpy. It's cute.” You poked her stomach, and she quivered under your touch.

“I um… Are you going round to Dean’s party tonight?” She blinked, shutting her eyes tight as she exhaled.

“Parties aren't really my scene. I prefer more intimate settings. Allows for more… connecting. Don't you think?” The tension bubble enveloping the both of you was delicious. Scotty rattled at the closeness you two shared; you ate it up. Your chest was pressed against hers, and you could feel her heartbeat. Thump. Thump.

The rhythm fell in sync with the fluttering in your stomach. Sawdust mingled with the scent of her subtle cologne, and it made you dizzy. Her signature smell, you’d discerned.

She scratched her eyebrow with her thumb, “Maybe you uh, you should come. It could be fun. I’ll be there.”

“Are you asking me out?”

Her brows shot up then, and you couldn't help your smirk. “W-What? No. I'm just, I think you could have fun. You know Dean, he always makes everything fun.”

“Fun is one word you could use to describe Dean, I suppose.” You leaned in close enough to kiss her, and her breathing stuttered, “But I'll come. Since you'll be there.”

A grin was all she shot back, a flustered one. And you knew then, your mission was complete.

•••

You’d been at the party for over two hours, and there was no sign of Scotty. Sweaty bodies brushed up against you and the looped club mix did your head in. “Wanna dance?” Alcohol-laced breath wafted up your nose, and you gagged, pushing through the crowd of strangers. You did not need to keep suffering through this, so you left.

Decompressing from the loud music and gross people, you leaned back against the wall. A deep sigh escaped you.

“Hi.” A melody you knew well at this point. Your eyes traveled up to hers. There was an apologetic smile on her lips, and you folded in seconds.

You grinned at her. She looked cute, as usual. “Hi, Scotty.”

“Sorry about being late. You must hate me, huh?” She looked like there was more she wanted to say but couldn't find the words.

You felt a pull, so you moved in closer. “Hate you?”

“Yeah. Cause I keep standing you up, and I don't mean to. It's just, I wanna come. I wanted to come to your work yesterday, I really did. But I was too nervous. So I didn't come and I thought, you must really hate me now. And I had to make up for it, that's why I came by this morning. Even though I missed work, I didn't care.”

You grabbed her hands because she was sobbing, and it scared you. Dams of tears flowed from her eyes, and seeing her cry made your heart ache. “Scotty–”

“I think you're beautiful; I do. And I’d like to get to know you. But I’m scared because the last time I thought someone was beautiful, I messed it all up. And I don't wanna mess things up with you. And it's okay if you don't like me, I won't be mad.” Her tears grew heavier. She was hysterical.

“Oh babe, don't cry. I like you, Scotty, and I would love to get to know you as well.”

She sniffed, but the streams still came, “I’m not used to feeling like this. I just– I need you to be patient with me. I don't want you to hate me; please don't hate me. I’m sorry.” So much emotion in her words. The way Scotty felt things was deep — woven into her bones.

“If you give me a chance with your heart Scotty, I promise I’ll only ever be gentle.” You caressed her damp tear-stained cheek, and she nuzzled into the hold. Her attempts to bury her face in your palm confirmed your suspicions: she was starved for touch; she craved it. Scotty craved your touch. She clung to you when you pulled her in for a hug, refusing to let go. The pads of her fingers dug into your shoulders, it stung, but it was a breathable sting.

Your hands pressed against her face and you looked her in the eyes, swatting her tears away. “I’ve got you.”

You gently pushed your foreheads together, needing her to calm down and breathe. Peppering tender kisses to her face seemed to soothe her best, and seeing her relax soothed you.

This kind soul wormed her way into your heart with swiftness and ease. But you felt she had that effect on everyone she came in contact with. So much love with nowhere to expel it, and hesitant to receive it. You were going to change that. You would handle her with care.

#scotty x reader #lyricswriting #vivienne scott #vivienne scotty #letitia wright fanfic #scotty banana #myworks #scotty x black!reader #vivienne scott x reader #vivienne scott x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x reader #shuri x black!reader #scotty x black!fem!reader #vivienne scott x black!fem!reader

533 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 1 month

Note

Omg! Happy anniversary for tumblr 😅? I'm so happy you've enjoyed the experience and as a fan of your work I wanna say congratulations!

It's a bit of a silly ask, but how would matt or Michael react to a reader asking if at their future wedding they could have a 'wing' bearer? Like, all du k with a bow tie waddling down the aisle to hand over the rings? A bit silly but a cute idea. Could be taken seriously or not, just wanna know your ideas for it?

Thank you for reading this, hope the pregnancy is going okay!

Ahh thank you so much!! 💕 It's been just over a year that I've been on here so I'm treating it like an anniversary/follower celebration thing because I've never done one before. They always seem fun though and I love interacting with y'all! And yes, the pregnancy is going a little better this week than last week thankfully! I'm nearing the end finally, too!

And you know what? I don't mind silly asks. This actually prompted two different fun dialogues in my head immediately, so hopefully that answers your question! The first one immediately had me thinking of Matt and Reader from FFTD specifically, but the dialogue with Mikey wasn't for any specific Reader. As usual, everything is below the cut!

“What if we had a wing bearer at the wedding?” you asked, lowering your coffee mug to the table.

Matt's head tilted curiously to the side as he paused at the kitchen sink, the dish he was cleaning currently forgotten at the question. “You mean a ring bearer, sweetheart?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “A wing bearer. Like a duck waddling down the aisle with our rings. Maybe wearing a cute little bow tie.”

Matt turned more towards you, both of his dark brows rising up onto his forehead. “You're not seriously suggesting that are you?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how unreliable a duck would most likely be? It'd probably fly away with the rings.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe,” you agreed slowly. “But it would be adorable. And how many people can say they had a wing bearer at their wedding?”

“Or we could just, you know, ask your nephew,” Matt pointed out. “Like normal people. I'm pretty sure he'd happily dress up like a duck if you asked, anyway. And at least he wouldn't fly away with the rings.”

“I suppose,” you conceded.

“And honestly, could you imagine if the duck started attacking guests because it was afraid?” Matt mused, returning to washing the plate in his hand. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “That'd be a disaster.”

“Well if that was the case,” you replied, picking your mug back up, “then I'd have to remind you of the promise you made to me on our first date. About protecting me from giant ducks.”

“Sweetheart,” Matt began, once more stopping mid-wash of the plate in his hands as he focused back on you from across the kitchen, “please tell me you're not over there actually considering paying to have a massive duck walk our rings down the aisle.”

When you didn't answer immediately, one of his brows quirked up onto his forehead.

“It was just a thought,” you said in defeat. “But fine. You're right. I'll just ask Hudson instead. That makes more sense.”

“What're ya lookin’ at, love?” Michael asked, settling down onto the sofa beside you. He leaned over, eyes squinting at your phone. “And why does it involve ducks with bow ties?”

“Just working on wedding planning things,” you answered him off-handedly.

“But ducks?” Michael asked again. “What do ducks have to do with our wedding?”

“I don't know,” you said with a shrug, glancing up at him beside you. “I was on this site that had a bunch of wedding vendors listed and stumbled on something called a wing bearer. I was curious so I looked.”

“And what is it?” he asked.

“A trained duck who walks your rings down the aisle,” you answered.

Michael stared at you in silence for a moment before roughly shaking his head. “That's ridiculous,” he muttered.

“I'm not making it up,” you countered.

“Well I'm tellin’ ya now, pet,” Michael told you, “there's not goin’ to be ducks at the wedding.”

Your eyes narrowed curiously back at him as he settled into the cushions. He somehow appeared to have grown tense now, a note of finality in his tone.

“What about–”

“No ducks,” he stated firmly. “I don't like 'em.”

Lowering your phone to your lap, you eyed him suspiciously. Out of all the time you'd known Michael, you'd never seen him shut a lighthearted conversation down so fast.

“I feel like there's a story here,” you said slowly.

“No, there's not,” Michael answered, shaking his head again.

“Oh come on,” you pressed, reaching a hand out and lightly squeezing his shoulder. “It's me. You can tell me anything, Mikey.”

Michael shifted, looking at you sitting beside him. His lips were drawn into a straight, unamused line as he studied you for a moment. Then eventually he blew out a rough breath, shoulders sagging.

“Fine,” he relented. “Back when I was younger I was pissed off my ass and stumbled onto a duck's nest once. She wasn' thrilled and the encounter was…rather unpleasant. Left me with a bruise on my face. Told Jimmy I'd gotten into a fight at the pub. Now I avoid ducks.”

You bit your lip, attempting to fight back an amused laugh as you nodded and tried to shoot him a sympathetic look. But Michael saw right through you, immediately rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Forget I said anythin’, pet,” he muttered.

“No, no,” you reassured him, still fighting back a laugh as you patted his shoulder. “I won't invite any ducks to the wedding. I promise.” Clearing your throat, you couldn't help but add, “I couldn't possibly risk starting a war between a Kinsella and one of their known enemies. And on our wedding day, no less.”

Michael shot you a flat, unamused look which had you breaking at the sight. Throwing a hand over your mouth, you tried to quiet the laugh that slipped out.

“Hilarious, love,” Michael deadpanned. “I expect ya not to tell anyone ‘bout this, ya know.”

“Of course,” you said behind your hand, still trying to fight down the laugh. “Your secrets are always safe with me, Mikey.”

He rolled his eyes again, but when you saw him crack a grin, you finally loosed the laugh you'd been holding back.

#bellas 2.5k follower celebration #duck ring bearers #i may have enjoyed these dialogues a little too much #matt murdock x reader #michael kinsella x reader #matt murdock #michael kinsella

32 notes · View notes

ghostofthemost141 · 6 months

Text

Serene

Chapter 3

Gif credit to @eurodynamic

Ch.1. Ch.2. Ch.3. Ch.4. Ch.5. Ch.6. Ch.7.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish xF!Reader

Word Count: 2,615

About: You were on vacation to the beach and you think you're about to die when you're caught in a riptide until an unlikely hero comes to your rescue. Precisely a Scottish man that bores a tail.

!Warnings!: Sexual Harrassment

Italics means Third Person POV

Notes: This chapter is mostly about your home life and backstory but the targeted enemy in this story is a popular character in the series but just cause I make him an enemy doesn't mean I hate the actor who portrays him. He plays the character well and is a great guy. Also, your uncle is another character that is a favorite character of mine in this series, guess who 👀, regardless of what nationality you are. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy it!!

“I'll see you den, Dove.” His words echoed into your mind over and over again. The second you left that beach two days ago, you were craving to see him again even though you just got done seeing him at that moment. And now tonight, you would meet him again at the time he said. You were just praying he would be there. Praying that he kept his promise. Praying that he-

“Dove!” A booming voice woke me from my daydream.

I looked up to find my professor peering his eyes at me.

“Yes, sir?” I sheepishly said, knowing I was busted for daydreaming.

“Were you paying attention at all?” He asked with disappointment in his tone.

“No, sir I wasn't.”

You knew it was best to tell the truth with your professor versus lying to him cause he knew you would be lying just by your body language. Your professor tsked at you, showing his disappointment in you.

“See me after class.” He demanded.

“Yes sir.” I answer, feeling my guts drop to my stomach.

Anything but that. I am not sure what it is about my professor but he has this weird tick to him. He's not necessarily giving ‘pedophile vibes’ but there is definitely something off about him. And no, him being a near red head blonde has nothing to do with it. Guess I'll find out later.

You wanted to find some kind of excuse to not meet with your professor after class. That nerve grew more and more in you the closer the clock ticked to the end of class. Gem and Pixie were not in this class with you so you were basically screwed. You're supposed to meet them after class but you had to race to the shore for only one person. As the final bell rang, you started to rush pack your belongings so you could disappear in the crowd of students. Just as you stood up to leave, your professor was already at the front door, saying goodbye to the students that passed by. You froze in your spot, feeling your heart race. You just did not have a good feeling about all of this. Once the last student left, your professor shut the classroom door, letting it slam loudly.

“Professor, I need to be going.”

“Just, just wait a second, Dove.” He said with a chill tone, but for some reason that unnerved me the most.

Your professor approached you, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Why weren't you paying attention in my class?” He asked.

“Just..have a lot going on, sir.” I half lied, trying to maintain eye contact but it was hard when he unnerved me so much.

“So much that you can't pay attention in my class?”

“I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again.”

You snared your tone to hopefully get your point across but he just chuckled at you, letting you know that he wasn't intimidated by you at all.

“Professor Graves, I need to be going now.” I snared once again, hoping he'd move out the way.

“You've certainly matured a lot.”

“Excuse me?”

You nearly shouted at him as his eyes were starting to wander in places it shouldn't. You felt gross and disgusted with not only him but yourself. Is this truly how men saw you as a person? For your body?

“Out of my way.” I growled, shoving my professor to the side with my shoulder and hustling outside.

You didn't stop running until you made it to your car. You wanted to throw up, knowing that your damn professor saw you in that way. You managed to keep yourself from throwing up by doing deep breathes in and out, while trying to keep yourself from shaking too much.

“Shit.” I mumbled, trying to pull myself together.

Besides Johnny, there was only one other man in your life that you could trust. Your uncle that you live with. He was your greatest support system and you loved him deeply. You needed him, his support. You immediately texted Gem and Pixie and told them you were sick and couldn't meet up with them and you were going straight home. You were still going to go see Johnny later but that wasn't until dark had befallen. You had two hours until then. You saw your professor walking out of the campus so you immediately started your car and peeled out of that parking lot immediately, rushing home. The further you were from campus, the calmer your nerves got, even though the event still lingered in your head, making yourself sicker and sicker, both mentally and physically. The lingering nerves even remained when you parked in the driveway of yalls house.

“Oh Remi ain’t home..” I said, taking notice of the absent car in the driveway.

She must be doing a class. I took a deep breath in and then out, with my hand resting on my door handle. Before I could even step out, my uncle beat me to it.

“‘Ello?? Anyone there?!” He called out, flashing his phone flashlight at me.

I laughed as I stepped out of my car, shutting the door behind me.

“I’m here!” I announce my presence.

Once I got closer to the house, my uncle stopped flashing his phone at me, opening the front door for me. I stepped through, as he shut the door behind me.

“You doing okay today, kiddo?” He asked me.

“Yeah, Uncle Alejandro.”

“You sure? I think you’re lying to me, estrella.” Alejandro, or Ale as I like to call him, said, peering his eyes at me.

“I mean..”

You paused, not sure how your uncle was going to take this. You knew he was going to be supportive and believe you no matter what but you were worried at how angry he would get about it.

“Talk to me, estimada.” Uncle Ale reassured me.

I sighed deeply as I went and sat down on the couch with Ale following me.

Ale sat down next to me, staring at me with lots of concern. He could read me like a book and know that something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Um, so, you know my professor? Uh, Graves?”

Ale’s face immediately churned. Yeah, this is not gonna blow over well.

“Hmhm.” Ale said, wanting me to go on.

“Well, he caught me daydreaming in class.”

“Cariña, we’ve talked about that.” Ale jumped in with.

“I know, Ale. I’m sorry.” I apologize, feeling guilt that I disappointed him even though I know I didn’t.

He just wants the best for me. I am his niece after all.

“Continue.” He said.

“Well he made me stay after class-”

“Made you?”

I felt chills go down my spine, hearing that near growl come from my Uncle’s throat as he said that. Shit.

“Yeah, he did. And well he was just sorta getting onto me for daydreaming in his class. And then he made a comment.”

“What kind of comment?”

I almost don’t want to tell him just by the reaction of saying he made a comment at me.

“He said: You’ve certainly matured a lot, while looking at my breasts.” I mumbled that last part, hoping he didn’t hear me but he did.

Your uncle went silent, but he was fighting the urge to find out where this man lived and beat the daylights out of him. Yes it was just a comment, but it was still harassment. Especially since this wasn’t the first time this has happened. Finally, your uncle spoke.

“I want you to go to the Dean tomorrow and report him.” Ale told me.

“I-I will.” I said.

Ale immediately brought me into a hug. You know like those kissing booths they have in movies? Instead of a kissing booth, Ale needs to open up a hugging booth because he gives out the best damn hugs. I hugged back, trying to hold the tears back.

“You know I say that because I love you right, Dove?”

“I know.” I croak through my tears, completely overwhelmed with what happened.

Ale rubbed my back in comfort, letting me cry on his shoulder as I have many times before.

“You’re going to be alright, Dove. Uncle Ale’s got you. And Remi too.” Ale mentioned his lady.

I chuckled in response.

“I know.” I said, pulling away from the hug.

I wiped the tears away, hearing a car pull up into the driveway.

“Speak of the Devil.” Ale said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Stop! You’re so weird.” I exclaimed, playfully hitting him.

Remi and my uncle have been dating for about two years now and I love her. I consider her to be my Aunt even though they aren’t married. Yet. Remi entered the house and Ale immediately ran up to her, embracing her in his arms.

“Bienvenido a casa mi amar[Welcome home, my love]” I heard Ale greet her, followed by many kisses.

It warmed my heart to see my uncle in love and be with someone he loves so much.

You could only hope that it will be you one day.

“Where are you off to, Dove?” Ale asked me as I grabbed my coat.

Your heart raced as your Uncle stopped you, with concern filling his eyes. Night has befallen and you knew Johnny would be waiting for you. Your uncle doesn’t even know what happened on your vacation due to Gem and Pixie pushing you to keep it a secret, for you knew your uncle would want to wrap you up in bubble wrap after hearing about it.

“Just going to the shore, for a walk.” I told him.

“It’s dark out.” He said.

“I know, I’ll be okay Ale I promise.” I reassured him.

I could tell Ale was a bit unsure but he trusts me.

“Okay, well be back by ten pm okay, estrella?” Ale told me.

Two hours was plenty for me.

“Yes, sir. See ya.” I said, walking out the door.

“See ya.” He said back as I shut the door behind me.

You hurriedly jogged to your car, jumped into it, started it and pulled out of the driveway within two seconds. You were so excited to see Johnny again. He had you possessed in a weird way. He was always on your mind, especially those dreamy bright blue eyes of his. Little did you know, he felt the same about you. Even when he was with his best buddy Simon in the deep, deep sea, you were on his mind. The way your hair flowed in the wind, and how sparkly your eyes were, had him possessed as well. They are cheesy thoughts sure, but it was truly how he felt about you. Quick as a flash, you were at the New Orleans beach, relieved there was no one else here. You figured there wouldn’t be but you just had to be sure. You wanted Johnny to be your secret. You left your car and started walking along the shore until you got some miles between you and your vehicle.

“Johnny? Are you there?” I call out to him.

A big splash from the shore confirmed your answer. You turned to see a beaming smile and bright blue eyes appear on the sand.

“Hello, Dove.”

“Hey, Johnny.” I greet him, feeling a deep blush creep onto my face.

Johnny pulled himself out of the shore and propped himself up against a big sand dune that would block your vision of Johnny. That’s smart, you thought. Johnny patted a spot next to him beckoning for you to sit next to him. You nod as you came and sat next to him, feeling the wet sand hit your pants, causing you to cringe.

“You alright, lass?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah, just wet sand.” I said.

Johnny just beamed his eyes at you, watching every little movement or expression you were making. He was completely infatuated with you, he just wished he could find the right words to say to you. But he could tell you were acting off. Something happened.

“What’s wrong, Dove?”

“Oh uh nothing.” I lied.

I didn’t want to put my bullshit onto Johnny. I am sure he has a lot going on already.

“I can tell something is amiss. So what’s up?” He asked me again.

I sighed deeply, seriously debating whether or not to tell him.

“I just..have been having issues with my professor at school.”

“How so?”

“He has been advancing onto me so to speak.”

Johnny immediately furrowed his eyes, understanding what you said.

“Bloody wanker..” Johnny mumbled and I had to suppress my giggles from hearing that insult.

“What class does he teach? And what campus?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, it’s no big deal Johnny. I’m handling it, I promise.” I reassured him, but I could tell he was pretty angry.

“He didn’t ‘ouch you did ‘e?” He asked.

You shook your head in response, seeing Johnny’s face relax a little but still angry.

“You know I can still turn into a human righ’?”

“I know Johnny and I appreciate it but I don’t want you to get hurt.” I said, leaning on his shoulder.

Just from that comment alone, Johnny knew how you truly felt about him. And he was happy.

“You feel somethin’ for meh, bonnie?” Johnny asked smugly.

“Maybe.” I returned the same tone.

Your hand ended up grazing over his tail, feeling the bumpy yet smooth scales. Johnny watched as you did that, knowing you were doing that with good intentions.

“Your tail is so pretty, Johnny.” I said, seeing the scales shimmer within the moonlight.

“Not as pretty as you, Dove.”

You giggled hearing Johnny’s comment, feeling absolutely flustered.

“Oh stop.” You joke.

“I mean it though.”

“Do you though?” You question.

Johnny gently grabbed your chin and moved your face to were you were looking deep into his blue eyes.

“I do.” Johnny sincerely said.

You felt your heart race quicker and quicker the longer you stared into Johnny’s eyes. It was as if he was hypnotizing you with those dreamy eyes of his. You wanted to do something, so badly, but didn’t want to spook Johnny, even though he was worried about spooking you.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, immediately cursing at myself for even asking, but he just smirked in response.

Without saying anything, Johnny leaned in and connected y’alls lips together, immediately feeling your heart flutter at the action. You shut your eyes and placed your hands on Johnny’s chest, while Johnny wrapped his arms around you, bringing you even closer to him. He pulled away for a second to get some air but immediately connected them back together. You didn’t want this to end, you wanted it to go on for forever. Despite him being underwater 24/7, Johnny’s lips were soft and nowhere near being chapped like you expected them to be. Johnny rubbed your back passionately as you could feel the tension in the air get hotter. You wanted to keep going, go even further knowing he can turn into a human, but you held yourself together. Not yet, soon, but not yet. You pulled away from the kiss first, but remained up close.

“You enjoy that, Dove?” Johnny asked.

“No, not at all.” You sarcastically reply back with.

Johnny chuckled back, loving your style of humor. The two of you embraced in another long kiss and even though the tension was in the air, the two of you held your composure for each other and just kept y’alls lips together, not knowing there was a pair of eyes watching the two of y’all from the far distance.

TO BE CONTINUED…

#cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghostofthemost141 #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #johhny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #cod soap #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #serene fic #simon ghost riley #phillip graves #alejandro vargas

48 notes · View notes

analogwriting · 5 months

Text

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 28: Closeout

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 2.1k a/n: well, this is it. this is the end. i didn't think i'd ever actually write and publish this but here we are. and i definitely didn't think people would like it but i see y'alls comments n likes. y'all got me cryin' frfr. anyway - i have a lot more in store. i have so many prompts on my phone. the dreams don't stop either sooo...here's to the next one ig lmao thank you all for reading n hopefully you'll stick around for what's to come ;a; (who knows, maybe I'll write a smutty epilogue in the future) first

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word eventually let out that you were awake, the Strawhats coming to check on you as well. They filled you in on their various battles and you were in awe of each one of them. It seemed, however, that not only was Luffy still out of commission, but so was Zoro. They seemed to have really pushed themselves this time around.

Fitting that it was the both of them, too.

Even when the Strawhats visited, Law didn’t leave your side, opting for sitting in the chair next to your bed. Nami and Sanji were giving you side eyes you were absolutely trying to ignore. Robin seemed to smile at you in a way that made you suspicious of her. She always had the knowing mom look, though.

Once they all filed out, you groaned, plopping back into your mattress. “I am so exhausted,” you mumbled, throwing an arm over your eyes. You felt the bed next to you dip, a tell tale sign that Law had moved back to sitting closer to you.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” You groaned, looking at him as you moved your arm. “I need to get out of this room. I’m getting cabin fever,” you mumbled, sitting back up.

“Then let’s go on a walk.” Your eyes lit up. “Really?” Law nodded. “I don’t see why not. You’re all healed up, I think you resting was just a formality at this point.”

In moments, you were out of bed, standing and stretching. A groan escaped from your lips as you did so. Your hands were above your head as you stretched yourself out and you felt a set of arms wrap around your middle. A quick glance and you saw the familiar tattoos that you loved so much. Your face warmed up and you smiled, your own hands, resting on top of Law’s. Your head moved to the side slightly as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re very clingy,” you teased softly.

“Well, now that I have you, I don’t want to let you go,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and you leaned into him. You looked out the window to the town below. It was a serene feeling right now. Something that you wished could last forever. However, with both of you being pirates, that wasn’t possible, but you weren’t going to complain. As much as you were enjoying the moment, if everyday was like this - you’d get bored so fast.

You turned around in Law’s arms, looking at him. You pressed kiss to his lips, humming softly.

“FOOD!” You pulled from Law as you heard a familiar holler. Your eyes went to the door, widening. He was awake? You looked at Law, who let you go and nodded. “Go on.”

You smiled, but interlaced your fingers with him as you took off down the hallway and to where you were hearing Luffy chanting for something to eat. Law followed you, protesting the running, but going anyway. You stopped in the doorway as you saw Luffy. You had seen him earlier when he was all bandaged up and it almost brought you to tears.

He looked at you, a bright smile stretching across his face. “Y/N!” You let out a sigh of relief, seeing him looking just fine now. Sure, he still had some bandages on, but you knew he was just fine. “Luffy,” you said. “Good to see you’re doing okay.”

“Of course I am! I’m going to be King of the Pirates!” He cackled and you smiled. “Of course. You need to become the king first before you let yourself keel over, yeah?” He nodded as he stuffed his face.

“So, what’s that all about?” Zoro said, looking at you and nodding to your hand laced with Law’s. You felt Law tense and you snorted, looking at the greenhaired swordsman. “Listen, I know that you have no idea what it’s like to have someone love you, but surely you know what holding hands means,” you teased, smirking at him.

From somewhere, you heard Sanji laughing at your words. “Take that, mosshead!” You snorted, seeing Zoro narrow his eyes at you. “Why I oughta-”

“Try something and you know your captain will absolutely fight you,” you mumbled under your breath at him. He glared at you, but the two of you broke out into grins. “Good to see you’re doing just fine then,” he said. You nodded. “You too.”

You sat down with Law, catching up with Luffy and Zoro. You filled them in on other events that happened outside of their battles that you knew about and they told you about theirs. It wasn’t long before both the Strawhats and the Heart Pirates joined. After all, the captains were here, so it made plenty of sense.

Everyone delved into their own conversations. “By the way, y/n,” Shachi began, capturing your attention, “What was that giant flaming lady talking about?” You blinked, tilting your head to the side. “Yeah, I’m curious too,” Law said from beside you.

Then you remembered. “Yeah, I have absolutely no idea.” You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re not related to a god?” You shook your head. “Not that I’m aware of.” You smirk, shrugging. “Maybe my looks are just so godlike, they mistook me for one,” you mused with a laugh.

It raised some laughter from others and Law leaned in. “Though, I don’t think I god could compare to you,” he murmured in your ear, making your face turn red. “You keep saying things like that and I’m going to have to take you into the other room to make you deal with the consequences,” you murmured right back. He just grinned, pulling away.

Once more, you had that feeling of absolute content. Everything felt like it was in the right place. You were officially part of the Heart Pirates, Law was by your side, another battle won, and you also found a little bit of closure somewhere along the way. You knew that somewhere, your father was looking down on you with a smile on his face. And you knew Corazon had to be doing the same for Law.

You looked over as Shachi and Penguin seemed to be teasing him relentlessly about you. “I’m just glad it’s finally a thing - he would not shut up about you sometimes,” Shachi said. You raised your eyebrows. “Oh?” A grin slowly spread across your face and you chuckled.

“Yeah,” Penguin began, “You remember that one island? The one where you two had to race? He would not shut up about you after you left. Talking about how you were so smart and amazing.” You raised your eyebrows, looking at a very red Law. “Is that true?” you teased him softly, earning a glare - or what he tried to use as a glare. You just snorted, laughing loudly. “Didn’t realize I had such an impression.” You pressed your shoulder into Law’s and he grumbled.

“Well, sometimes they wouldn’t shut up about you either,” Nami interjected, joining your small group. Your own eyes widened as you silently pleaded for her to not. She sat down. “You know my price,” she mused and you knew it was game over. You didn’t have enough berries to keep her quiet and the both of you knew it. Especially since this is something she had been hanging on to so long.

“I remember one night, you had been drinking, and you wouldn’t shut up about Law. Talking about, well, sounds like exactly what he did.” Nami laughed as you started turning red. “Sanji and I started taking bets on when it would happen. Usopp was even in on it.” Your mouth fell open. Bets?

Penguin laughed. “We had bets too!” Both you and Law just stared at your fellow friends before looking at each other. “Was it really that bad?” you said, and, in unison, everyone chimed, “Yes!”

Both of you were redder than tomatoes at this point. Damn, you didn’t realize.

“Wait, so Traffy and y/n are dating?” You heard Luffy’s voice from behind you. You turned around and noticed he was talking to Zoro, who nodded. “Oh cool! They always seemed to get along really well - I’m happy for them!” You honestly were surprised he caught on in the slightest. You couldn’t help but smile as you turned back around.

“I even still have that picture from the party,” Sanji said, holding up a photo. Penguin and Shachi were up so fast that they almost tipped over their drinks. “Picture?” they chimed, looking at the cook.

“Sanji, I’m begging you,” you began. “Luffy!” You held out your hand, Law looking at you in absolute confusion.

“Got it!” His sandal was in your hand. “What are you-” Law began, but Sanji yelped. “Not again, please! Fine, fine. I won’t show it.” You began to lower your weapon, glaring at him when a certain orange haired girl cleared her throat.

Nami grinned, holding up her copy. “How many do you have?” You groaned, knowing you couldn’t win.

“Enough.” However, you noticed Brook talking to Ikkaku. “I was just wondering if I cou-” You moved fast, flinging the sandal in his direction, smacking him in the head. He cried out, rubbing his skull where you hit him. “Leave Ikkaku alone!” you shouted at him.

Luffy cackled from behind you. “It never gets old!” He fell onto the floor laughing.

“What the hell is that all about?” Law asked, still confused on what he had just witnessed. He looked a little frightened and a little turned on. “Oh, it’s a secret technique of mine. I call it fuck around and find out, featuring Luffy’s chancla,” you said with a shrug.

Your new captain just stared at you in bewilderment. You heard Shachi’s voice. “Keep sandals away from y/n, got it.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Anything can be a chancla if you’re not a coward,” you warned, causing him to yelp and latch on to Penguin. You just grinned, laughing.

It wasn’t long before people were looking at the picture. “Aw! You look like a little family,” you heard Robin say. “Our little y/n…all grown up,” you heard Franky say from next to her, pretending to wipe away a tear. You groaned, hiding behind your own hands.

While the others were distracted, Law reached into his pocket and took out one just like it. “Wait, when the hell did you get one?” You looked at him in bewilderment.

“Remember when you were wearing my jacket? You stuffed it in the pocket and when you returned it, it was still in there.”

“And you kept it?” you asked, feeling your heart race. A sheepish grin spread across the man’s face and you just stared at him. That was so incredibly sweet and you had no idea what to do. You wanted to kiss him right here and now, but you knew the others would not shut up if you did. Maybe you were going to take him to another room and absolutely shag the life out of him.

You sighed, laughing softly. “Guess, under the circumstances, it makes sense,” you mused, looking to the others as they all celebrated. You knew you all would be setting sail soon. You’d be leaving with the Heart Pirates and saying goodbye to Luffy and the Strawhats, so you were going to enjoy this while it lasted.

You felt Law’s hand find yours, lacing your fingers together once more. You glanced at him, but he was currently engrossed in a conversation with Robin. A soft smile settled on your face as you turned your attention to the duo of troublemakers.

“Oh, we need to get you caught up on that romance. A new book came out and Shachi read it. Apparently…” Penguin went into a rant about the book series that they had started reading and discussing with you a couple of years ago. Damn, a couple of years already? Time seriously flew by. You felt Law squeeze your hand gently and you glanced at him. He gave you a small grin as he looked at you from the corner of his eye and you returned it before you both returned to your conversations.

This was the start of a new chapter of your life and you couldn’t be more excited.

#one piece #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #iciw #am fics

38 notes · View notes

snailsrneat · 2 years

Text

Love Gardener

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

Scernario:

MC opens their arms after a long day and says "I need love and affection." Their S/O happily obliges.

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

Heartslabyul Edition-

Riddle:

Boy is shy af

Once the question fully leaves your lips he turns scarlet

You thought he was angry at you for asking such a "insolent" question and was about to leave when he grabbed your wrist

He stuttered out, "I-I would like t-that very much."

Smiling you lead him over to the bed, lay down and pat your chest, signaling him to lay down as well

Shakily he sat down, and laid his head on the spot you were patting

Shy boy quickly turns into emotional boy

He's never experienced affection quite like cuddling

(Mother Rosehearts is awoman of high class, she can't be seen being affection, even to her own flesh and blood)

He cries softly into your shoulder whilst you pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings to him

Eventually he falls asleep from crying so much ❤️‍🩹

"*sniff*Mother...*sniff* why?"

Ace Trappola:

Oooh boi

Now listen Ace, while very physical affectionate, is a tsundere

With that comes his denial of liking any physical affection

You could be straight up hugging him like a koala to it's tree and he would say, "You're so needy all the time, give me some space."

Then 5 minutes after giving him said space he goes,"..I actually liked that could you do that again?"

This mf-

But anyway, once you ask him for some much needed cuddles he "reluctantly" agrees

On the inside however

He's doing the f-ing Carleton

He stoked to hear that you want to be so close to him ❤

"Huh? You want t-to cuddle? F-fine, but don't be surprised when I take all the blankets."

Deuce Spade:

Mans is both excited and scared

More accurately, a nervous wreck

He's never been this close to with anyone besides his mom

(Deuce 100% would cuddle with his mom when he was a little kid)

Being so close is a new experience for him

However he was determined to learn

When you guys went to cuddle his shoulders became as stiff as rocks, face bright pink, and heartbeat about to jump out of his chest

You tried petting the top of his head to calm him down a bit but that just made him more tense

So you just decided the best course of action was to lay on his chest

Don't ask him about his heartbeat, because he's just gonna turn into a stuttering mess💙

"My heartbeat? I- uhm, it's just that- uhm"

Trey Clover:

Mans is too sweet

The moment those words leave your lips he stops everything

(Which made you a little scared that he was upset at you)

He looks over at you with the sweetest, most adoring gaze and says

"Of course darling, just let me finish making these sweets for the unbirthday party and I'll cuddle you for however long you need."

HHehdbshjwvsjHavshduehhsAAAAAAAA

IT'S TOO CUTE MAKE IT STOP

Once he finishes up he carries over to his room and attacks you with his love

Like legitimately bombs you with kisses and hugs and IT'S TOO MUCH

GAAAAAAAH💚

"You know you can for cuddles anytime. All you to do is just ask."

Cater Diamond:

My boy here is exploding both on the inside and the outside

Long story short, he's all over you oon the outside and completely panicking on the inside

To be quite honest with you I don't think Cater is quite used to tons of affection

He probably isn't even that touchy of a person tbh

But when it comes to you

He just melts into your arms

All he wants is to lay his head on your tummy and listen to the sounds of your heartbeat and gurgling of your stomach

He also doesn't want this to ever end so let's hope you went pee before bed🧡

"What are doing babe? Stay with me, it gets cold without you here."

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

Hello everyone! No I am not dead, just trying recover after some serious burnout. Sorry I didn't tell y'all about it but I'm back and I'm hopefully gonna start making posts more. I plan on making a masterlist to both introduce people to me and my blog but also make it easier for people to find whatever the heck work of mine they want to read. I have something pretty big coming in the very soon future that I'm very excited about and I hope you all are as well. Anyway, thank you for reading this end part rant and I hope you all have an amazing day.

#Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #twst headcanons #Interactions are appreciated #Twst brainrot #The brainrot has finally ended #But don't want it to go

831 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

Text

Broken Glass Chapter 5 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

TW: Allusions/emotional flashbacks to previous sexual assault/abuse. AGNSTY TENSION. Affection 'rehearsals' hehehe.The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: PG-13? (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: Oh, my darlin's, I'm sorry this took so long, but the next installment is FINALLY HERE! And it's hefty! Hopefully the ridiculous amount of angsty, yearning, slow-burny tension makes up for the delay. 😏 I think (hope) you're really gonna like this one cuz things start to get a tad steamier between our little Dolores and our handsome Elvis. Teehee 🤭 I honestly can't wait to see what y'all think of this chapter!

And thank you SO MUCH for the encouraging comments and asks coming in about this work. I was really afraid no one was interested in this one because it's such a slow burn, but y'all are giving it some love and that makes my heart sing! ❤️ Thank you for continuing to reblog, like, comment, and ask!

(BTW, I'm still working on fixing my masterlists and hope to have that done soon! Until then, you might want to visit my Wattpad or AO3, to catch up or reread...)

The physical pressure of hundreds of screaming and crying fans coupled with reporters shouting garbled questions has you feeling as though your head might burst. You don’t know how anyone could ever get used to this or find any semblance of safety in what seems like a riot waiting to happen, but even in his weakened state, Elvis smiles charmingly at the crowd. He seems unfazed by the way these girls reach for him with wild eyes, with a fervor unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Even more, the way he hesitates tells you he wants to stop in the throng to speak to them and sign autographs. You have to squeeze his hand and pull him towards the waiting train to remind him it’s not possible, not today anyway.

For the first time, you are grateful for the way his long, slender fingers wrap around yours, his hand tight around you. You fear if he lets go you will be lost and trampled by the crowd, unable to get on the train that will take you away from the hell that awaits if you stay. You try not to think too hard about the looks the fans give you, ranging between abject curiosity to outright jealousy from the way their idol grips you.

Finally, you all make it up into the large coach, and you let out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. You assume that Elvis will release you the moment you step into the relative quiet of the passenger carriage, but instead he wraps his arm around your waist in an intimate way that almost shocks you. It’s then, when you turn to shoot him a warning look, that you realize how pale he looks, sweat beading at his temples. He is using you to stay upright, to save face in front of everyone. Concern rolls through you. Looking over at him, your heart skips with anxiety of how to get him alone to check him out. But subterfuge is not your specialty and you falter.

Somehow, even in his illness, Elvis picks up on your dilemma. “Hey, we’re both tuckered out and are gonna get some rest,” he slurs out with a chuckle, emphasizing tuckered out and rest as though implying something completely unrelated to sleep. Normally, you would be appalled at the suggestive nature of the statement, but by the way he grips your waist as if his life depends on it, you know this has nothing at all to do with sex. He’s covering, giving you both an excuse to be alone.

Lamar gives Elvis what he thinks is a knowing grin, while the Colonel and Vernon try to hide the worry in their eyes.

Elvis clings close to you, leaning on you as he guides you towards the next train car. You suppose to anyone looking, his weakness is confused with affection for the way he places his head on yours and holds you tight. And all this might make you uncomfortable if not for the fact that you know he’s in distress of some kind. Your mind is already whirring with what you need to do, which takes away from the fact that you’ve allowed more physical contact from Elvis in the last few days than you would have liked.

But such is the job, you think. This incredibly bizarre and unbelievable job.

In the next car, you both stumble into the narrow hallway on one side as Elvis looks through the little windows and into the private compartments until he sees his things, along with yours, on the floor. You are a little surprised at the size of the room as you both lurch through the doorway, it being equipped with everything from two larger-sized beds, a sink, and what you assume is a small toilet behind another door. You’ve never seen anything like it, considering your experience of train travel is limited to the subway and the Long Island Railroad. If you weren’t so preoccupied with helping Elvis, you might stop to admire how the other half lives.

Thankfully, someone had already retrieved your luggage, along with your medical bag, from the car and hauled it onto the train. You are suddenly mortified at the assumption that you are staying in the same quarters as Elvis. And, worse, by the looks of it, it’s true. A sick feeling churns in your stomach when you realize this won’t likely be the only time people jump to that conclusion; in fact, it’s what the Colonel and Elvis want people to think. In your haste to get out of New York, you didn’t have time to think about how such things might tarnish your reputation.

What reputation? I’m already damaged goods.

You think you might vomit at that.

Elvis plops down on the edge of one of the beds, with a sigh of what you think might be relief. “You look a little green in the gills there, honey…you all right?” he gasps out.

His words yank you from your dismal thoughts. “I’m fine,” you snap, pulling the curtains closed. Covering your embarrassment with ire, you know he shouldn’t be worrying about you anyway, not in his condition. Then you rifle through your bag for your thermometer, stethoscope, and blood pressure cuff, placing them on the bed next to him.

“Sorry I asked.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, changing the subject. “How’s your breathing?”

“I feel pretty damn awful, but I ain’t breathin’ too bad,” he responds, breathless, looking up at you with glassy, innocent eyes. Going through your mental checklist, you feel his forehead and his cheeks with your wrist. He’s cold and clammy, and a little too pale for your liking.

“You’ve got to be honest with me, Elvis, or else I can’t help you. I can hear you wheezing,” you say, popping the thermometer in his mouth before he can rebut. He shrugs instead, batting those infuriatingly long lashes at you.

You place your fingers at his pulse point and watch the second hand on your watch. Doing the math in your head, you realize his pulse is faster and more thready than you’d like.

“Can you…?” you motion towards his necktie and shirt. He nods, gleaning your meaning, and shrugs out of his heavy coat and uniform jacket, throwing them off to the side. In the meantime, you remove your own winter coat. Luckily, the coach is warm enough that you feel comfortable but not stifled by the heat.

You pluck the thermometer from his mouth. “No fever, though your temperature is slightly elevated,” you tick off, shaking the mercury in the glass out of habit.

Elvis unties his tie, pulling it off unceremoniously. “That’s good, right?” he asks, while undoing the buttons on his shirt. You notice his hands are shaking slightly and his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“Well, based on the state of you, I’m thinking you had a fever at the base,” you say with concern, “but, yes, it’s better that you don’t have one now.”

He pauses, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt.

“All the way off, please,” you command, and he raises a perfect eyebrow at you suggestively.

“Usually, girls are a little more excited when asking me to undress,” he says coyly, his lip raising in that smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, trying not to think about that, and hold up the blood pressure cuff instead.

“Ooh, one of those kinky types, huh?” he winks with a chuckle, which quickly turns into a hacking cough.

“Is it possible for you to be serious for more than two seconds?” you scoff, annoyed at the heat that’s risen to your cheeks despite yourself.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with faux seriousness, saluting you. He bites his lips together to hide his smile as you wrap the cuff around his bicep.

You try to temper your annoyance with the fact that he’s going through a lot and managed to put on a performance of a lifetime in front of all those reporters and fans, considering how awful he must be feeling physically.

It’s actually rather remarkable, you think, that he has that kind of commitment and fortitude. The man could barely stand a day ago and has somehow managed, through sheer willpower, to get himself out of the hospital. The hospital he should still be in.

A wave of unease washes over you when you realize you are the only one managing his care for the time being. If something happens to him on my watch…The pressure of that responsibility feels almost untenable after seeing the hordes of fans outside. Your stomach rolls again.

Distracted, you are reaching for the stethoscope when you hear the sliding door begin to move. Your heart skips a beat with panic because no one is supposed to know what you are actually here for and with your medical supplies out, it will be quite obvious to anyone looking in. Frozen and wide-eyed, there is only a second to look at Elvis before he is springing into action.

A little yelp escapes you as he yanks you down sideways into his lap and wastes no time in pulling your head towards him. When you realize he fully intends to kiss you, your entire body tenses because Gianni suddenly flashes in your mind. Fear courses through you—not again, please, not again—and you cannot seem to grasp what and why this is currently happening. Gasping, you turn your head just in time for Elvis’ pillowy lips to meet your cheek.

His large hands grip your waist tight to him, not allowing you to jump away as you attempt to flee his lap. But when his soft lips travel down your cheek and continue downward, your body suddenly lights up as though he’s set you on fire, and not at all in a way you expect. Tingles alight under your skin, circumventing your fear as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips pressed into your sensitive skin. Your pulse throttles ahead, a welp escaping your lips, and you freeze.

“Hey, EP, do ya want me to—” Lamar says opening the door all the way. Upon seeing the scene in front of him, he exclaims, “Oh, shit, sorry, sorry!”

“Jesus, Lamar! What have I told you ‘bout knockin’ before enterin’?!” Elvis growls, ceasing his barrage on your neck and lifting his head to glare at his friend.

You are flushing with embarrassment and confusion. But it only takes a moment for your addled brain to finally catch up to what is happening, and as to why Elvis deemed it appropriate to start necking you with no warning in front of his friend.

“I’m sorry, man, it won’t happen again! Go ahead and go back to…whatever y’all are doin’,” Lamar fumbles with a chuckle, then makes a hasty exit, the door sliding shut behind him.

The moment the latch clicks, you launch yourself out of Elvis’ lap, pushing him back as you do so. You have no doubt that not even your olive skin tone can hide the furious blush blotching your cheeks.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!” you hiss at him indignantly, straightening your dress.

His voice comes out low and rumbling in a way you’ve not heard before. “Little bird, you cannot go tensing up like that every time I gotta kiss on ya. Makes it look like I was forcin’ myself on ya, and I can’t have that,” he says firmly, chastising you, his accent thick.

“Wh-what?” you sputter in disbelief. “You—you, there was no warning! How was I supposed to know what you were thinking as you…” you wave your arm at him, as though that is enough to express your jumbled thoughts, “…did whatever that was?”

Elvis rises from the edge of the bed, his eyes darkening with what you think is frustration. Your breath catches in your throat when he crosses the small space towards you, and you desperately want to counter by stepping backwards, but you force yourself to hold steady.

“I did what was necessary to hide that you are in fact my nurse and not my girlfriend.” He holds his arm, the blood pressure cuff dangling from it. “I didn’t have many options.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind putting all the pieces together. It was clever, really, how he managed to conceal the cuff and all your medical supplies by the way he’d pulled you into his lap. You’re not so sure the kissing and the necking was entirely required, though he was trying to sell the ruse in the best way he knew how. No one was likely to question Elvis Presley kissing on a girl in his lap.

“I know I surprised you but being my girl in front of others is part of the job. And if you can’t do the job you were hired to do, there’s still time to get off this train,” he says, deadly serious, pointing to the door, those seemingly endless eyes never leaving yours.

“No!” you squeak. The fear pouring through your veins reminds you of the fact that Elvis holds your fate in his hands. You clear your throat before quickly following up, “No, I can…I can do it.” You force yourself to hold his gaze, to show him you are serious, too, because you cannot go back. You’ll do anything not to go back.

Elvis’ eyes search yours for a moment, and he nods. Then he looks over you almost quizzically, eyes softening.

That is when you realize you are shaking, badly. Frantically, you clasp your hands together behind your back, hiding as much as much as you can, willing your body to stop showing such weakness. You close your eyes, mortified at your behavior in front of the man you now work for. Because, as he made perfectly clear, this is your job.

Heart still pounding against your ribcage, you know the forced encounter on Elvis’ lap triggered a cascade of terror bottled up from your sickening experience with Gianni only a few days ago. Feelings you are usually able to compartmentalize are running rampant inside you and you feel upside down with fear that Elvis will unknowingly send you back into the viper’s nest you are desperate to escape.

A gentle finger under your chin lifts it, compelling your eyes up and open. Elvis’ oceanic eyes churn with concern and lock onto yours.

“I will never hurt you, Dolores,” he says, voice calm but firm.

The intuition behind his words startles you and flays you open. Your wounds are still far too fresh for this, which can be the only reason, you think, that your usual carefully walled-off exterior begins to crack.

Men have always hurt you. This one should be no different. The man is a consummate performer, a master of manipulating the masses. You have no reason to trust him, not yet.

Other than the fact that I hold his life and reputation in my hands, a quiet inner voice whispers.

But for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be true.

It’s hard to look into his soulful eyes and not believe that he is good.

He holds you there a moment longer, then releases you. Your breath shudders out and you turn away quickly, swiping away the tears welling in your eyes with your still shaking hands. You force a deep breath, then another, composing yourself before you straighten and turn back to him.

Walls back up, you nod and point to the bed. “Settle, so I can take your blood pressure,” you order.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiles.

The more miles that are put between you and New York, the less constricted you start to feel, and that tension that Gianni or your father will magically appear and drag you back home starts to dissipate slightly. Watching the wintery landscapes race by out the window, you still can’t completely shake the feeling that danger is lurking around every corner though.

In this, you are incredibly grateful for the private coaches reserved for Elvis. It’s relieving that you don’t have to worry about Lamar or Vernon, or even the Colonel, a man you still don’t trust but you feel will not undermine you when he has nothing to gain by doing so.

Now that there is time to think, the hectic frenzy surrounding Elvis on pause for the moment, jumbled feelings about last couple of days creep up on you. After you’d quickly read and signed the Colonel’s contract, Lamar had driven you home mid-morning when you knew no one would be there to stop you from packing up your meager belongings.

You can’t help but wonder at your father’s reaction when you never came home from work, what he must have done when he found the letter you left on your dressing table, along with Gianni’s ridiculous engagement ring. The letter stated that you’d found a good job elsewhere and couldn’t in good conscience marry a man you didn’t love. There were no specifics—nothing about Elvis or even mentioning Tennessee. You figure it’s only a matter of time before someone gets wind through the press of where you’ve gone off to, but until then, you hope to put as much distance between you and your old life as possible.

Something tells you your room had probably been destroyed in a fit of rage.

You’d left notes and a little bit of money for your brothers in their rooms. There is an ache twisting in your heart that you didn’t get to tell them goodbye in person. You try not to be worried about them, as the twins are all but grown men and will protect Paul, if need be, though your father has never shown them the violence he’d aimed at you and your mother.

It’s unlikely anything will change for them anyway. After all, they’ve been groomed to serve in the famiglia since they were children. Tony is the only one who’d expressed a desire, other than you, to get out. But as much as it pains you to leave them, your little consolation is that the money might help if they wanted to go themselves. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach, but the need to survive pushes you forward regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, little Lo’?” Elvis plops down next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders to pull you close into his side. He surprises you out of your thoughts and you jump a little in your seat. You are grateful to see that he seems better now, his color returned and his breathing normal. Your immediate instinct is to shrink away from his touch, but Lamar is sitting across from you both, watching closely enough that Elvis pulls you back towards him and grips you in the way that reminds you of the façade your job entails.

You let him hold you close, forcing a tight-lipped smile in lieu of the grimace that attempts to grace your features. “Oh, just thinking about how I’ve never been this far away from New York before,” you say, thinking on your feet. “I suppose I’m a little nervous about it.” It’s not a lie, you think, and it might explain your anxious behavior to Lamar. But after “catching” you and Elvis earlier, you don’t think Lamar even considers another option for your presence.

As the day and a half train ride to Memphis drags on, Elvis’ restlessness is concerning. You’ve told him he needs to sleep, or at least lie down away from the others, but he brushes you off at every turn. It’s not as though you haven’t worked your share of 24-hour shifts, but you don’t feel like you can truly rest until Elvis does—and he seems to interrupt you with conversation or bursting into song any moment your eyes begin to drift closed—that and his insistence to make an appearance at every train stop and his bouncing nerves have you irritable.

You are more than a little curious at the fact that he seemed to rebound so quickly after getting on the train and somewhat concerned that perhaps there is something more at play than you are aware of. Something behavioral? Pharmaceutical? you wonder. Or maybe he’s just excited to be going home. But you don’t know Elvis well enough yet to go throwing accusations and assumptions around. It doesn’t stop your analytical mind from trying to solve the puzzle, however.

This, coupled with your worry of what you’ve gotten yourself into and the need to keep your exhaustion at bay, has you distracted, to say the least.

So, when the Colonel corners you in the hallway of the sleeper car, your guard is down and you are not quite as prepared as you might usually be.

“Young lady, you are gonna need to improve your attitude towards our boy or else no one is gonna be convinced as to why you are travelling home with him! You think we don’t notice that every time speaks to you, you roll your eyes and when he touches you, you jump away like a startled cat?” the Colonel hisses at you. Gone is the silver-tongued man sympathetic to the plight of you completely changing your life in an instant.

Your heart catches in your throat. You didn’t think you were being that obvious. “I-I’m sorry. I am working on it, sir. I’m just not used to his-his type of affections,” you say, hating that a sliver of your fear shows in your voice because you know a man like the Colonel will use your weakness to his advantage at some point or another.

“Well, I suggest you get used to it and quick, or else we’re all gonna be in a world of trouble.” The way he looks at you suggests it is you who will bear the brunt of that trouble and your eyes go wide. “Do you understand me?”

“Oh, I’m sure she understands ya just fine, Colonel,” Elvis’ drawling voice comes from behind. You both whip around to look at him. “Don’t ya worry about a thing. I’ll get her situated before Memphis.” He seems so calm and sure of himself that you almost believe it.

The Colonel looks from Elvis to you and back again before he nods. “I’m sure you will, my boy,” he says with a warm smile, his demeanor changing on a dime. Elvis just looks at him expectantly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He shoots you a warning glance before heading back down the tiny corridor.

Once he’s gone, you close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, praying silently, Please, God, give me the patience and ability to do what needs to be done.

“Now, Little Bird, you need to come with me,” Elvis says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the private compartment you share.

You jerk your hand out of his. “Elvis, you really need to get some rest before we reach Memphis, and so do I. You’ve been up for more than a day, and you can’t do that anymore, not in your condition. We can talk about everything else later,” you say, worn. You point to his bed as though that will be enough to mollify him while you try desperately not to think about the fact that your bed is in the same room as his.

He looks at you as though you’ve grown horns. “I ain’t sleepin’ right now, and no, this can’t wait till later cuz unfortunately, the Colonel is right. You’re as skittish as a cat and look like you want nothin’ to do with me, and everyone’s gonna get savvy to that real quick if we don’t fix it,” he says pointedly.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, your fatigue and insecurity gets the better of you. “And how exactly do you think we can fix this, Elvis? I’ve known you all of, what, three days? I’m not—I haven’t been the kind of girl who…” you trail off, stopping before you reveal too much of yourself.

He’s right, and you know it. You need to be better at this. You need to do better, for everyone’s sake. And you hate that you are the weakest link when you need to be strong. Elvis just looks at you expectantly.

Something finally snaps inside you. “I don’t know how to do this! I’m not an actress—I’m just a nurse! And I’m completely exhausted, a-and you—you! You’re like a little child who won’t go down for a nap, running yourself ragged, and you’re not making my job any easier!” you ramble into a shout, heart pounding and stomping your foot.

Silent, Elvis cocks his head at you, taking you in from head to toe. “Okay, then, you do this with me, and then I’ll try to sleep, no arguments.”

At this point, you’ll do almost anything to get the both of you some much needed rest. “Fine. But not just 30 minutes, Elvis. You need real sleep, and so do I, at least a couple of hours—no trying to get out of it to—to wave at fans.”

He huffs. He knows you’ve caught him out, but finally, he relents. “Alright.”

“Good. Now what exactly do you want me to do to fix this?” you ask, trepidatious but relieved that sleep is in your near future. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Alright, so, I remembered something an experienced actor helped me with when my costar and I got real nervous about sharing our first on-screen kiss. We was all stiff and awkward cuz we didn’t really know each other and were both a little shy and had never done anything like that before, and I kinda liked her a little…anyways, it was real weird,” he bumbles out excitedly.

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you’re already feeling heady with the exhaustion and nerves, your patience thin.

“I was thinkin’, well, this is like a brand-new acting job for you, right? You ain’t never done this before and you’re not comfortable with me yet, but we gotta get you there cuz we’re shooting the scene real soon, ya know what I mean?” His blue eyes are bright and excited, and you think that, yes, maybe what he’s saying is starting to make sense.

You nod slowly.

“See, all we need is some rehearsal. A way to get to know each other without everyone watchin’,” he says. His body does that thing you’ve noticed—the one where energy seems to pulse through him and he has to move. His leg is going a mile a minute. Part of you wonders if he, too, is nervous about whatever this plan of his is, and you’re not sure if that is comforting or not. For a man as worldly as you assume him to be, he shouldn’t be nervous with you, of all people. Not when he’s been with movie starlets and models.

“Little Lo’, you’re gonna have to trust me on this…can you do that for me?” he says, stepping in close to you.

You can’t help the way you counter his proximity by stepping back, your eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”

Elvis looks at you with a raised brow, waiting.

“Fine. I-I guess I’ll try my best,” you finally relent.

“Okay, good,” he says softly, stepping into your space. “Now you’re gonna touch me, nice and slow.”

“Excuse me?” you yelp nearly falling backwards in your haste to move away from him.

“No! No, not like that! Maybe I didn’t phrase that so good,” he says a little bashfully, and the pink on his cheeks tells you he didn’t mean it quite the way you took it.

“What exactly did you mean, then?” You hold your breath waiting for his answer.

“Well, you do have to get used to me being in your space, honey, but I realize it’s always me pushing in on you. So, I want you to get used to being in my space, to get used to touching me before I try to touch you. But not like what you was thinkin’ before, just affectionate like,” he scrambles to explain.

You aren’t used to affectionate touches. Touch of any kind, unless it’s related to your work, is usually uninvited and without good intentions. But he’s right, this is your job now, and maybe thinking of it as such will help you. And he’s being kind and thoughtful enough to try and give you a modicum of control over this strange situation.

Your heart begins to race. “How—I mean, what should I do?” you ask hesitantly, not at all sure where to begin.

“Well, maybe start with my hands, since you’ve held them before?” he says, quietly, as though he doesn’t want to spook you. His eyes are open and honest, and nothing about him conveys aggressiveness.

I’m safe. He won’t hurt me, you chant in your head. This is just part of my job.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, stepping towards him.

“Okay.” It comes out of your mouth as a whisper. Reaching out for him, you start to take both of his larger hands in yours but stop abruptly.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you blurt out self-consciously, “or even been on many dates. That’s part of the reason why I’m not used to being touched by, or—or touching, a man.” You don’t know why you say it, only that maybe it’ll be enough of an explanation of why you are just so bad at this.

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Really? A pretty girl like you hasn’t had one boyfriend?”

A flash of heat blazes your face at his compliment, which you push away. You scoff instead, “No boyfriends, and I-I can count the number of dates on one hand.”

“Your family religious? Or you just have strict parents or somethin’?” he asks, nodding, as if he knows all about girls and their strict, religious parents. But you are quite sure he knows nothing about la famiglia or the kinds of fathers who make men disappear for a living.

“Or something…and I didn’t really have time to date in nursing school. But the one man I went out with a couple of times, the one my father approves of, well…he’s not a good man,” you say quietly. Wringing your hands, you look away.

It’s all the truth you are willing to provide for now, and only because you think if you are going to try and trust Elvis, he needs to have some idea of why this is hard for you.

You look back to find his azure eyes narrowed, processing through what you’ve said, maybe putting some pieces together of why you act the way you do. There’s something almost protective in them, which shocks you, and then his eyes fill with concern.

“O-okay, then. I-I-I’m glad you told me. I-It, uh, makes more sense w-why you’re not used to this kind of thing,” he stutters. “Just take it slow. Get comfortable w-with me. I-I w-w-won’t hurt you, I promise.”

He seems more nervous than you now, and somehow that makes you feel better approaching him. You reach for his hands again, and they feel warm against your perpetually cold ones. Taking a deep breath, you settle into the feeling of his skin against yours.

This is fine. I can do this. This is easier than cleaning bed pans, you encourage yourself, your heart still pounding in your ears.

But now you don’t know what to do next and you look at him with panicked eyes.

His response is to bring his hands up, gently lacing his fingers in between yours.

Oh. Oh. This is feels more intimate than it should, but your logical mind tells you this is precisely the point of this exercise, for you to get used to it now and then outwardly show that you like it later. It doesn’t stop the other part of you from wanting to bolt from the room, however.

I’m okay. He’s not going to hurt me. Every woman I know would be clamoring at this chance to touch Elvis Presley. I can do this. I will do this, your inner voice chants at you.

After a moment, in this awkward position, Elvis clears his throat. “Um, maybe up the arms now?” he suggests softly. “Almost like you’re blind, sort of, like you’re trying to map out what I look like.”

Nodding because this actually makes sense to you, you begin trailing your fingers and hands up his long arms over his shirt. As you reach his shoulders, you realize you’ve done something similar when you helped him dress at the hospital. A moment where you had control and felt it part of your job. That gives you some confidence, knowing that you’ve done this before and it was fine, so normal you’d barely even thought of it at the time.

But now, hands on his shoulders, you’re not sure where to go. Down his chest feels very intimate and up around his neck feels even worse. You are breathing too fast, and then you feel it near your wrist—a steady thrumming. His heartbeat.

You are trained to feel and listen to heartbeats, and this focuses you, ripping you from all the terrible ‘what if’s’ of the situation: what if he hurts me? what if I can’t do this? what if he sends me back? You drag your palms from his broad shoulders and down his clavicle, seeking that solid touchstone of life. Thump, thump, thump.

It’s beating slower than your own anxious heart but a little faster than you’d like it to be from a clinical perspective. But the moment you look up into his eyes, you remember, this is not for clinical purposes. And you realize it’s not likely that the blush on his cheeks and the racing of his heart is related to his illness, but more so the fact that a woman is touching him in such a way.

Blinking rapidly, you look away from his openly dreamy eyes, forcing yourself to home in on that pounding beneath your palm. You take a deep breath, then another, trying to sync your heart to his. It staves off that brewing panic, enough to keep pushing forward past your comfort zone.

You remind yourself that when you started nursing, it was similar. You had to push through the fear of potentially hurting someone, despite your good intentions, especially in the beginning when you hadn’t known what you were doing. You’d had to push yourself to clean up disgusting messes without gagging. There were so many things you’d had to get used to that at the start felt insurmountable. This was the same, you reason, you just had to push through your fears.

Really? You’re going to compare cleaning up blood and vomit to touching Elvis Presley? your inner voice chides you.

It seems awfully silly when you think of it like that.

And perhaps that is what forges you ahead and makes you bolder. You guide your hands down his chest, feeling the heat of him under your palms, the slight ridges of his ribs on his decidedly lean frame. Without looking in his eyes, you circle your arms around to his back and step in as close as you can. The embrace is tentative at first, and you feel the way his breath hitches in surprise. It is only a second of hesitation before he wraps his arms around you in turn.

It’s foreign, this feeling of being held. You suddenly realize that it has been since your mother died that anyone has hugged you, truly hugged you, for more than a moment at most. Breathing in a shaky breath, you are enveloped by Elvis’ unique scent—a masculine but subtle, warm smell that is a far cry from the heavy, suffocating colognes of the Italian men in your life.

You close your eyes, pressing your ear to his chest, that thump, thump, thump a comforting lull to your overactive nerves.

Elvis is achingly gentle, barely touching you at first, until he realizes you are not scurrying away in your usual manner. Then he holds you a little tighter, a little closer, if only to steady you in this unforeseen moment of vulnerability.

He just feels so solid and steadfast in a time when you are feeling completely unmoored. An unlikely anchor in the hurricane of the past few days. For a moment, you allow yourself this small comfort. You are not sure how long you stay like that, timing your breaths to the beat of his heart. Probably longer than what is proper. But you are quickly coming to accept that this situation is far from proper.

You finally bring yourself to pull back from the embrace, knowing there is more work to do here, more ways in which you must launch yourself into the uncomfortable.

Seems like you were quite comfortable holding him, and with him holding you, your inner voice coos.

This is part of the job. It’s not like that.

Mhmm.

Ignoring that, you’re not quite sure what to do next, only that you feel a strange mixture of relaxation weaving its way through your anxiety. Elvis’ hands rest lightly at your waist, making no moves one way or another, as if knowing it could frighten you away.

I won’t be frightened. He will not hurt me.

It feels truer now, though it doesn’t stop the flutter in your chest when you loop your hands back around and up his regally long neck. Oh, it feels too intimate, the way your trembling hands trace up his chiseled jaw, his stubble rough under your fingertips. You can’t look at him, you just can’t face those handsome bedroom eyes while touching him like this, opting for examining him blind like he’d suggested. Your fingers flit over his impossibly high cheekbones, up the perfectly straight edge of his nose, mapping him in your mind.

He's safe. He’s safe. I’m safe. The mantra repeats in your head.

Of their own accord, your fingers cart gently into his wonderfully thick, soft hair, up and through, and it’s then that you hear the sigh escape his lips, the one you now suspect was held back this whole time. It ratchets up your heart rate, not because of your fear of what he could do to you, but because the sound sends a tendril of warmth down your spine.

The instinctive part of you wants to yank your hands away, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the fear. While your fingers run through his hair, your thumbs fall down his cheeks until you are cupping his long face in your hands.

This is the moment you decide to open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are closed, the look on his beautiful face serene. You are in awe of how gentle and trusting he is, and maybe that’s why you impulsively move a thumb up and over the soft bow of his upper lip.

His sapphire eyes flutter open in surprise at that, sending a shockwave of heat through you. As he catches you in his otherworldly gaze, your thumb snags on the fullness of his lower lip, dragging it down and opening his mouth.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the feel of his hot breath on your fingertip has butterflies brewing in your belly in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s like a terrifying freefall and you pull back, almost ashamed, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Your first instinct is to run, but Elvis catches your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“It’s good,” he breathes. “You’re doing great, honey.”

The praise is genuine, and a shaky wave of pride rolls through you at being able to face your fears about this.

“Now it’s my turn, darlin’. We gotta get you used to the other way around,” he says quietly, as if knowing this part will be even harder for you. As if knowing that your heart begins to race even faster than before.

All you can do is nod. Keep going forward.

“Okay. I’m a very affectionate guy, Little Bird, and I’m gonna be real clear for you what I’m gonna do here,” he says, looking into your eyes in a seriously. “I’m fixin’ to act like I would with a girlfriend, but I ain’t out to molest you.”

You’re not exactly sure what he means to do, but you forge onward, trying to relax. “A-Alright.”

He’s still holding you by the wrist. “I’m gonna kiss your hand now.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach at the drawled words, and not from fear.

Then he is pressing those soft lips in an innocent gesture, first kissing the top of your hand, then the palm, then the inside of your wrist. It’s sweet, the way he does it, the way he checks in with you with his eyes after each peck.

You forget to breathe. You expected fear, the need to escape that which feels foreign or threatening, but you did not expect any part of you to enjoy this.

Running his hands up your arms, he reminds you of the obvious. “Breathe, honey,” he whispers.

You do. In. Out. In. Out. It gives you something to focus on as your mind goes blank.

“Gonna move down now,” he narrates. His hands move one of your arms, then the other, up over his shoulders and around his neck, as if you might start dancing. As if you might lean up to kiss him. Your heart knocks against your ribcage and you just know he can feel it as his hands splay slowly down your sides, fingers around your back, tracing your curves. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch your breasts, just brushes past them on the way down, but it sends shivers down to your toes regardless.

You feel utterly exposed, that familiar panic blooming amongst the unfamiliar feeling in your belly. Elvis seems to sense your tension and steps into you, embracing you once more. You feel that anchor again as his tall frame engulfs you. It should make you more uncomfortable, pressed up against him like this, but it doesn’t. Then, his left hand brings your right over his shoulder and holds it there, directly over his heart.

Thump, thump, thump.

Somehow he knows that steady rhythm calms you. He holds you there for as long as it takes for your breathing to level off, which is a while because you feel dizzy with the scent of him, the warmth of him, with the feeling of being touched in a way that doesn’t make you want to run for the hills.

You don’t understand these feelings. You should be afraid. Your history has taught you to be afraid of men. But for some strange reason, this near stranger, this idol to the masses, makes you feel safe and that scares you on a whole different level.

“Doing so well, Little Bird,” he says, pressing his forehead against your own. The pet name you loathed a few days ago sits differently with you now since you’ve come to understand that he has nicknames for everyone in his life, some that make sense only to him. It sits differently now that he’s holding you like this.

Oh, Madone, he is so close now. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to remind you this is not the man who hurt you. That Elvis is nothing like Gianni.

It’s alright, I’m alright.

You do not expect this battle between fear and arousal in your body and your mind when Elvis whispers he’s going to kiss your face and then he does, carefully pressing into your forehead like you might break under his touch.

You do not expect to feel angry at the fact he’s showing you how men can be so unlike what you’ve experienced, that not every one of their gender is filled with hatred and violence.

And you certainly don’t expect the sigh that escapes your lips when he kisses your cheek, or when he then follows with light kisses down your jaw.

He freezes at that. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Y-yes. I’m fine. It’s, uh, fine,” you stammer out breathlessly, feeling the way his lips turn up slightly into a smile.

It’s an act. You are both playing a role. This is a rehearsal, you recite desperately in your head as your body flames with a nearly unbearable heat. And as his almost-too-gentle lips light little fires on your neck, you know that you shouldn’t like anything about this, and not just because it’s part of your new job. But your body bends to his will of its own accord.

Elvis pulls back slightly, his face hovering close to yours, and pauses. Your hands are fisted in his shirt and the only thing that cuts through the pregnant silence of the room is the near-panting of your collective breaths.

“I am going to kiss you now, Little Bird,” he says quietly, so close to you that you can feel the puffs of warm air from his mouth. His voice rumbles down deep into your belly, coiling there.

You can’t even begin to respond, because the way his words send shooting warmth blooming out from your chest seems to clamp off any ability to speak.

Then his warm hand cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek. He hardly has to move to reach your lips, and when he finally does, it is so chaste and tender you barely feel it.

You expect to freeze or flee, for your heart to be filled with icy, dark fear.

And yet…

And yet you don’t and it isn’t because it’s nothing like what you’ve experienced before. It’s not the clumsy teenage kiss on prom night. And it certainly isn’t anything like the harsh, horrible kisses Gianni subjected you to. No, this is soft and something else entirely, something you can’t piece through in this strange little moment.

You let him kiss you, giving in easily, and while you don’t know if you truly kiss him back, you don’t push him away.

Then it’s over. Elvis pulls away slowly. You look up at him, dazed, topsy-turvy from the multitude of feelings washing over you, all at once. For a second, you see what you think is a similar look stirring in his eyes.

But then it is gone, replaced with the neutral surety and confidence of a performer after the director yells cut.

“You’re a natural, baby! Didn’t even run away from me once!” he ribs you with a stunning, wide smile, then he turns more serious. “Did it help? Do you feel better, like you can do that in front of everyone else without jumpin’ out your skin?”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. “I, uh, I’m not sure? I-I think so, maybe?” you finally manage to get out. You are honestly not sure about anything right now, the ghost of his lips still haunting on yours.

Elvis furrows his brow a little, unsure of your reaction. “Well, it’ll get better with practice, don’tcha worry, lil’ Lo’,” he says encouragingly.

Practice? This is going to happen again?

Of course. Because this is a rehearsal. This is part of your job. The part of your job that now involves kissing Elvis Presley and pretending to be his girlfriend.

Coming back into yourself, you try sliding your walls back into place, willing yourself to be professional and unphased. “I’m sure it will,” you nod, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “Now, time to rest. You promised,” you say, changing the subject and gesturing to his bed, praying your hand won’t shake.

He looks like he might try to fight you on it, but then seems to think better of it. “Fine. A deal’s a deal,” he shrugs, casually throwing himself onto his bed.

With a silent sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes and climb into your bed and under the covers on the other side of the room. There is no way you are undressing into your nightgown, not with Elvis just feet away, so this will have to do.

“At least a couple of hours,” you remind him before turning your back to him.

“Yes, ma’am, I hear you,” he grumbles.

Taking a deep breath, then another, you keep yourself from looking back over at Elvis. Despite your overwhelming fatigue, your body is buzzing like you’ve had one too many cups of coffee. You force your eyes closed, but you are hyperaware of the man being so close.

You’ve never slept in the same room as a man before.

It’s a day of all kinds of firsts, now isn’t it? you think sardonically.

You try to even out your breathing, the memory of Elvis’ steady heartbeat thundering in your ears. The spicy scent of him lingers on your skin. You can feel the way his solid warmth pressed against you in a comforting embrace. And all you can see behind your closed eyes is the how he looked right before he kissed you.

You think you may have liked it, liked all of it.

But it’s not real, you silly girl.

Praying for much needed rest, you bury your head in your pillow.

A sudden, stabbing guilt then slices its way into your heart as a hideous thought threatens to drown you:

What kind of woman am I if liked that so soon after Gianni hurt me?

It’s your father’s voice that answers…

Puttana. Whore.

Tears pour down your cheeks until sleep finally takes you.

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

Taglist:

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

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

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

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

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley

121 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 2 years

Text

– the green moon.

a/n: hi there everyone! I'm so excited to bring y'all our collab with @oh-its-calentine, since we've both been into the mandalorian we decided to think of a fic idea where they could make the art and I could write the story and voila this was the outcome! hopefully you'll all enjoy xx and yes the scenery is heavily inspired by prospect

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

genre: little hurt a lot of comfort, smut, minors dni, fluff

word count: 3.7k

summary: it's been a month since grogu left with the jedi and you hate to see din so heart broken. What better distraction than to explore a foreign planet? in your desperate attempt to make him feel better, everything goes wrong.

warnings: established relationship, spoilers for season 2 finale, blindfold, scent of an unknown plant making reader a bit tipsy, fingering, piv, soft!din, the use of good girl, mild dirty talking, cumming on body, lots of praise from din, edging

Perspiration lays thick against your skin, the heat claws its way through your clothes, steadily burning your skin with your every step. Din followed right at your tail, unbothered by the heat and the humidity. Sometimes you thought he had air conditioning under his sparkling beskar. A broken sight fell from your lips. Looking ahead all you could see was green. The planet seemed to be covered with trees that reached out all the way to the sky. Trunks covered with wet green moss, unidentified flowers and wildlife spurting out of every corner. It’s clear to you that this was a planet filled with water, even if neither of you have come across it yet. The sky is bright blue, the usual star filled scenery you’ve grown accustomed to long gone.

Usually neither you or Din are ones to go exploring new planets, the two of you are constantly on the run, either from Gideon or bounty hunters that used to follow you thanks to Grogu. You bite the inside of your cheek, heart clenching uncomfortably within your chest. You miss the little trouble maker. Which was the main reason you and Din are on this hike anyway. It’s been almost a month since Grogu left with the Jedi, leaving a green imp shaped hole both in yours and Din’s chest. But even if you were hurting as well, you can’t deny the fact that Din has been suffering. He became quiet, only talking when you forced it out of him. Which is why you begged him to go on a hike with you– But now you’re having doubts on whether or not this was a good idea.

Branches crack under your heavy boots while you look ahead. Beads of sweat forms on your forehead start to slide down the frame of your face, it drips down your chin, wetting the already humid soil. You feel lightheaded. Steps staggering as you swayed a little, you try to remember the last time you drank water, you faintly remember having a sip back at the ship.

The corners of your eyes begin to black out and before you can call out to Din, you feel him by your side, strong arm covered in beskar wrapping around your waist and holding you up.

“We should find a place to rest,” you hear him say in his usual modulated voice. “Can you continue to walk or do you want me to carry you?”

You fluster at his words, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth as you stare at him with wide eyes. The sun shines brightly against his helmet, the reflected light blinding you momentarily. He tilts his head, observing you. There was always something so unnerving about being scanned by a man in a helmet.

“I’m fine,” your heart suddenly falters, beating two times too fast and stopping. Clutching your chest you stumble forward, head falling against Din’s shoulder. He holds you tight, beskar cool against your skin. “I’m fine,”

You’re unaware of your slurred words and you start to giggle. Your head spins, feet too heavy to move. Din huffs. Slightly bending his knees, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. The way his shoulder digs into your stomach makes you want to puke. You try not to focus too much on it, giggling as his finger digs into your thighs.

“I said I was fiiine– Let me do–” you cut yourself off with an unexpected hiccup. Another giggle trembles within your chest.

“I think something here is making you act like you’re drunk,” Din replies, his words clear so you can understand. “Just stay calm and I’ll find us a place to rest,”

You stick your bottom lip out, annoyed as he starts to walk. You desperately try to peel away from him but you can’t, arms and legs dangling lifelessly. Din’s pace quickens, desperately searching for a place to seek refuge in. Your eyes fill with incoming tears. The last thing you wanted was to make him worry. It’s been a hard month, the loss of Grogu being one of the unexpected blows the two of you received. A sniffle echoes from your nose, Din suddenly stops.

“Are you crying?”

“No,”

Your voice cracks.

“Just…Just hang on I think I see somewhere,”

The farther you get the better you feel. Your stomach finally settles down, your head clearing up a bit and before you know it Din is placing you on the ground. A shiver crawls up your spine as the wet dirt seeps through your pants, Din drops his bag and starts to rummage through it. His movements are hectic, the type of panic you’re not used to seeing on the mandalorian. Letting out a stuttered breath you look ahead, your eyes widen–

The sight before you is absolutely mesmerizing. Half of a large planet covering the horizon as a sea of bare crust extends as far as you can see, it reminds you of dried out lakes, seas and other water sources you’ve come across before. A cloud of dust refusing to settle acting as a fog over the land. During the events of your scattered mind, the blue of the sky had faded, the colors shifting between a faded orange and brown, bright stars winking down at you both. Lips parted, your heart thuds in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re dreaming or not. In order to get a better view you attempt to crawl forward, you gasp when Din suddenly appears in front of you.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, then he extends you a drink. “Here, take this,”

You look down at the steel cup he had forced into your hand, it smells absolutely horrid. Wrinkling your nose, you pull back.

Din’s soft chuckle follows your disgust.

“I know it smells bad but it’ll make you feel better,”

A whine parts from your lips, you shake your head and look up to him.

“Do I have to?”

Din sighs and crawls next to you, he takes the cup away from your hands. For a moment you think you’re saved from the rancid drink.

“How about this, I drink half of it and you drink the rest?”

Dank Farrik.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “You go first,”

Another modulated chuckle and he’s shaking his head. Then he turns to you, the full sight of his mask sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know the rules, close your eyes,”

“Alright, alright…You’re no fun,”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes and listen to the faint hiss of his helmet being released. Curiosity claws at your heart, a nagging feeling telling you to just take a little peak. A knot forms in your throat and you swallow around it. You hear the way he gulps the drink, it’s followed by the familiar sound of his helmet being lowered and soon you feel the coolness of metal against your upper arm.

“Your turn, you can open your eyes now,”

You do as he says, a mild disappointment settling in your gut as you see your reflection in his helmet. Begrudgingly you take the cup and down the rest of it. It burns your throat as it goes down, your stomach clenching in protest. When you are done, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and set the cup to the side.

“That was vile,”

“As true as that might be, the important thing is that are you feeling any better?”

You still for a moment, brows knitted while you observe your own body. You definitely didn’t want to throw up anymore and the fog in your head had dissipated.

“Yup, sure do,” you raise an eyebrow. “What happened back there?”

“I think one of the flowers might’ve been the cause of it. The downside of exploring,”

“Maybe we should get me one of those helmets too,”

A heartfelt laugh echoes and you flinch, heart skipping a beat as you observe the way his body shakes. It’s contagious, a smile spreading across your countenance. It’s been a while since you’ve heard him laugh like that.

“You wouldn’t even last a day in beskar,” his laughter dies down into a chuckle. “We could get you a mask though, we have plenty on the ship, I’m not sure why we didn’t pack a couple,”

“We’ve both been a little dazed since…well, you know,”

“Since what?”

“Since Grogu left,”

The tension grows between the two of you, thicker than the fog of dust moving along the dried land ahead. You swallow, lips incredibly dry, the silence follows and it makes you fidget in your place. Din’s completely still, helmet facing ahead while you wait for an answer. You wonder what expression he’s making, if he’s serious, sad or angry. You can’t tell when he’s silent and motionless; You can’t hear his tone, observe his movements, nothing. The worst part about this is that he’s doing it on purpose, he doesn’t want you to know what he’s feeling or thinking. He wants to leave you in complete darkness, you can feel it well, the shadow of it sucking you in like a black hole.

Finally he speaks.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant,” you can barely hear him but you’re relieved to hear his voice. “I just wasn’t expecting it to affect me this much– I didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to make you feel worse about it,”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, the knot in your throat bigger than ever. You knew he was hurting, you just didn’t know how much. Shaking your head a silent curse makes its way through your lips, you keep forgetting how lonely Din was before you and Grogu. Sharing, caring, keeping loved ones close…this was all new territory for him. Of course he had the creed, but the thing he suffered from was emotional loneliness and that was a hard habit to let go of. He was used to taking care of himself, being by himself. His first instinct was to deal with it on his own so he could take care of you later.

Reaching out you quickly grab his hand, fingers curling around leather. You can hear his heavy breathing. You can sense he’s trying to pull back into his shell. But the thing is…you aren’t going to let him. He’s not alone anymore.

“Din you should know that you can always open up to me,” you speak confidently, assuring him that whatever came out of your lips was the truth. “Your silence worries me more if I’m being honest. Why do you think I asked for this trip? I thought it would make you feel better,”

He doesn’t reply but he does turn to look at you.

“Your bond with Grogu was a special one and I’m sure that we’ll see him again. It’s normal for you to feel like this, you don’t need to deal with everything on your own anymore. I’m always going to be here to listen,”

As if to seal a deal, you lean in and plant a kiss upon the corner of his helmet. The beskar cool against your burning lips. When you begin to pull away, you feel his fingers curling around the nape of your neck. He presses his forehead against yours, chest heaving as you blink with surprise.

“Thank you,” he says, voice strained. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “You better,”

The two continue to stay like that, breathing, reveling in the presence of the other. His hands come down to your arms, stroking and kneading the muscles tenderly. Meanwhile, the colors in the sky had drained away, leaving only darkness as the stars became brighter, the planet still laid in the horizon, now a beautiful orange. You can hear the melody of the planet, leaves rustling and crickets chirping. The world is singing for the both of you, urging you to let go, urging you to become closer.

With a smile spread across your lips, you pull away and stand up, extending your hand towards Din. By the tilt of his head you understand that he's confused but he follows you anyway, laying his gloved hand against your open palm. You place his hand on your hip and hold the other one.

“What are we doing?” he asks with his modulated voice.

“Don’t you hear it?” you say, stepping closer until your chests are flushed against one another. “The planet, it sings for us Din,”

He stares at you for a while, you guess that he’s either listening for the melody or observing you. Finally a sigh echoes from his helmet and his shoulders slouch with defeat.

“So what do we do now?”

Your smile shifts into a grin, slowly, you begin to move your feet. He follows, mimicking your steps as you sway your hips. The planet sounds louder now. Din’s fingers dig into your hip, his steps uncoordinated. You giggle, lifting both of your hands, your attempt a turn. For a moment the hand on your hip disappears, leaving you cold and lost but as soon as you feel it again your stomach swarms with butterflies. The two of you continue to sway, hips beginning to playfully brush against one another as Din’s hand snakes around your waist, palm resting against the curve of your ass.

He slows down the dance, helmet once again pressing against your forehead. The visor fogs thanks to your heavy breath.

“I want you,” he says, hand sliding lower and cupping the tender mound. “Can we?”

“We can do whatever you want,” your breath hitches. “I just want to make you feel better,”

“You already have,”

Before you can retaliate you find yourself on the ground. You hate the way the moist earth feels against your back but you love the way Din feels on top. His armor and helmet intimidating as he looks down at you. Lifting yourself slightly off of the ground, you plant a kiss against his helmet, the outline of your lips forming against the beskar. You feel him shiver.

“I brought something,” he says, suddenly pulling back.

You watch curiously as he rummages through the bag and takes his rightful place between your legs once more. Your lips part with a gasp when you notice he’s holding a red blindfold. With a smile, you fully lift yourself up and rest on your hands. Din softly ties it around your eyes, the cloth soft against your skin. When he’s certain the knot is nice and tight, he pulls off his helmet and places it to the side.

You melt when you feel his lips on your forehead.

Immediately your legs tremble, arms almost giving out as you feel the stubble of his facial hair. He decorates your skin with felting kisses, ending the assault on your lips. You take in a sharp breath, eyes closed under the blindfold as you surrender to him completely. His mouth moving gently, tongue swiping against your bottom lip while he tilts his head. Eager, you part your lips. Din doesn’t hesitate. He slides his tongue between your lips and licks the inside of your mouth, a growl rumbling within his chest. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, slick wetting your underwear.

He lays you back on the ground, hands sliding down the frame of your body and cupping your breasts. Your back arches at the touch, your lips parting away from him with a gasp. Every movement he does is a surprise. The feelings exhilarate you. Din nibbles your chin, teeth scraping at your skin delicately. His one hand continues to knead your breast while the other continues on with its journey, it stops on your drooling cunt, thumb softly pressing against your clothed clit.

“Din,” you moan, hips shooting up. “P-Please, I need you– Need you now,”

He chuckles, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“I don’t think you’re quite ready to take me in yet, let me ease you up a bit,”

A wanton moan rips from your throat, his words alone enough to make you cum. Your mouth waters at the thought of his cock not being able to fit, your body begins to shiver, legs trembling. You can hear the smile in his voice, fingers now rubbing between your clothed folds. You just want him to rip everything off of you and fuck you.

“Look at you, so worked up already. Too bad you’re going to have to wait a bit– Remember bad girls don’t get their treats now, do they?”

“N-No,”

“Good girl,”

Din undresses you slowly. Kissing every patch of exposed skin before stripping another piece of clothing. The way his lips feel against your skin makes you feral. Everytime you feel the pressure of his mouth a whine falls from your already parted lips. The more naked you get, the more intense the kissing becomes. He leaves wet, open mouthed kisses as he maps out your body, tongue trailing against your damp skin. Your breathing heavily, chest rising up and down in a drastic manner. His fingers continue to slide between your clothed folds, the heel of his palm pressing brushing against your clit from time to time.

Tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes, wetting the blindfold. Your body feels as if it’s on fire. Another whimper echoes from your mouth, this time he takes notice of it.

“Soon, you’re doing so well for me, just a little bit more alright?”

You slowly nod, the corner of your lips trembling. He leans forward, swallowing your cries with a hungry kiss. Your eyes roll back when he finally, finally, slides your underwear to the side and actually touches you.

You break the kiss, too overwhelmed by his touch.

“Yes, Din– Din– Please don’t stop,”

He mouths the underside of your jaw, teeth nipping at the skin.

“You’re doing so good– So good for me– You ready to take my fingers?”

“Yes,”

The world stops when he slides in a finger, your cunt hungrily clamps around the digit, squeezing him hard enough so that he’ll never leave. Without even thinking you start to roll your hips, slick dripping down his wrist as you moan out his name again and again. Soon he slides in a second finger, then a third, pumping in and out while you lose the last of your sanity. Heat pools between your legs but it’s not enough. You need something more. Something thicker. You sob, tears getting caught by the blindfold. He shushes you, lips moving over yours.

He kisses you slow and soft as the blunt tip of his cock replaces his fingers. He slides his length between your folds, getting it nice and wet. You moan into his mouth, nostrils flaring as you finally feel the brilliant stretch of his dick.

Din fills you up inch by inch, your pussy rejoices at the feeling, the mild pain mixing with the pleasure. When he’s fully sheathed he stops, groaning at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, tongue tasting your skin drenched with perspiration. Din languidly rolls his hips, your mouth hands open, heat blossoming across your skin and pooling between your legs. He begins to move faster. Pulling all the way back he snaps his hips forward, he repeats the movement, again and again and again.

The wet dirt chaves your skin, legs coated with a thin layer of sweat. Din parts your legs wider, lifting your thighs over his broad shoulders as he fucks every little thought you have out of your mind. You don’t even remember why the two of you were here. The lewd noises of skin slapping against skin joins the melody of the planet, the sound of your bodies forming a new composition. Your moans join the sound, your legs trembling over his shoulders. Din grunts, nails digging into your skin as he moves faster. His one hand slides down to your clit, thumb rubbing over it frantically. A scream rips from your throat, the heat builds and builds, it builds until your mind is completely scattered–

It takes only one more thrust and you’re coming undone around his cock. Cunt gushing slick drips down the curve of your ass and adds to the wetness of the soil. Your orgasm electrifies your body, every nerve you have screaming with pleasure. Din doesn’t slow down. His movements become sloppy and hungry as he chases his own orgasm, his thrusts send waves of pleasure over your body. It becomes too much too soon. You cry out, another orgasm short circuiting your brain. Spit dribbles down the corners of your mouth, throat hoarse from screaming out his name. Din pushes your legs off of his shoulders and leans forward, covering your body with his own as he licks the inside of your mouth. His hips are relentless. Hips slamming into you in a skin bruising matter–

After one more thrust he pulls out, the sudden emptiness making you whine. But your whines soon turn into moans as you feel his hard cock against your stomach, his hips desperately moving. Din’s thick length glides across your skin, the combination of sweat and precum making it easy. One, two– When the third thrust comes around he’s coming across your stomach, thick ropes of cum spurting and dripping down your body. He breathes heavily, head falling into your shoulder. You lift your arms and wrap them around his neck, your nails gently scratching his scalp while he presses soft kisses into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,”

You chuckle, “I never really went anywhere you know?”

“I know but still,”

The two of you continue to enjoy each other's presence; touching and feeling one another as much as you can before the blindfold has to come off. Din gradually makes his way back to your lips, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake. Your fingers entagles in his soft hair, the color of it you still don’t know. There’s something bittersweet about the way he kisses you this time, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth more slowly, as if he’s trying to memorize every part of it.

You wonder how he looks under the shiny stars.

#din djarin x you #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x f!reader #mando x female reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

461 notes · View notes

elementwind91 · 13 days

Text

You Are A Queen, Part 6 (FINALE)!!!!!!

PART 1! | PART 2!! | PART 3!!! | PART 4!!!! | PART 5!!!!!

A/N: WOO!!! IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!! As voted on by my readers, this one ends with another song! Hopefully you guys like this song selection, cause I SURE DO :'D (Song was written by Caleb Hyles on YouTube btw, if y'all wanna check out his other stuff. His voice is truly amazing!) Anyways, enjoy! <3

PART 6 (FINALE)!!!!!!

It had been about a week since you had seen Lucifer in person. Sure, he would send you the occasional text, usually just selfies of him with his fellow sins at a meeting or something. You quite enjoyed seeing his and Asmodeus’s silly poses and antics together. But you were really starting to miss the king. It was too the point that you started getting paranoid that you had scared him off. Or bored him off. Stop it, brain! But you just couldn’t. Those self-deprecating thoughts always came back to your mind with a vengeance.

One afternoon, Charlie had invited you to hang out with her and Vaggie in their room. You were sitting on the ground, petting Keekee while she rubbed her face against your hand and purred up a storm. You had a soft frown on your face, looking down at the purring cyclops-cat. You had gone a bit spiral-y, to be honest. But, as always, you kept quiet about it.

That is, until Charlie noticed. She looks down at you, concerned. “...Anything wrong, Y/n?”

Maybe, you thought. “It’s nothing important, Charlie. I’ll get over it eventually.

“Well… okay, but just to make sure you know, you can tell us anything, if you need to talk. It might help to vent.” Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s knee, giving her a soft smile before looking back at you.

You accept defeat, and sigh. “It’s just… I haven’t heard from Lucifer in a while. I thought we were friends, but now I barely get so much as a text from him. I know I’m probably being paranoid, but I just have this nagging feeling like… like he’s bored with me, or something.

Vaggie chuckled a little bit, and sat beside you, joining you in petting Keekee. “Yeah, just a bit.”

“Vaggie!” exclaimed Charlie, giving a teasingly miffed look to her girlfriend. Vaggie couldn’t help but giggle a little, knowing she wasn’t being serious.

“...Okay, maybe just a teeny tiny bit,” Charlie added on. “But, I have an idea about what you’re feeling,” she says while joining you both on the floor, making a semi-circle.

Charlie reached down, and gave Keekee some belly-rubs while she slept peacefully on the floor. “I know it’s hard, but try not to worry so much. My dad can get really busy with his job sometimes. He is the king of Hell, after all… Besides, he’s definitely not the type to just up and ghost someone! Especially someone he’s so bonded to!”

You look up at Charlie, for once looking her in the eyes. It’s always been hard for you to do that consistently. “...You really think so?:

Charlie smiles reassuringly back at you. “Oh, I know so. My dad’s been so much happier than he has been in literally years, and it seemed to start when you came to the hotel. And, he brings you up a lot,” she adds, her grin growing wider (even for her).

You blush slightly, smirking towards the floor. “Thanks, Charlie. I hope you’re right.”

Charlie and Vaggie gave you a little group hug, while you all stood up and walked back towards your room.

A couple of hours go by, while you’ve been quietly crocheting in your room (a little Fat Nuggets, small enough to be a key charm for Angel), and suddenly, you jumped from the sound of your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You let out a sigh to calm yourself, and grab your phone, to see that you had gotten a text from Lucifer.

‘Hey, Siren! Did you wanna meet me up in my suite? It’s been a while, and I figured we could hang out somewhere other than your room for once! =)’

You chuckled to yourself, smirking down at your phone screen. You texted a quick ‘Be there in a bit!’, put your latest project down and headed out your door, mind racing with both excitement and anxiousness.

Once you got up the last flight of stairs, your mind is spinning with sudden panic. You force yourself to stop for a minute or two, making yourself focus on taking deep breaths. It’ll be okay, you tell yourself. But you just couldn’t shake that something about this time was… different.

When you got to his front door, you heard something you wouldn’t normally have heard inside a hotel room. …Ducks? I mean, not unusual at all for him, but inside his room??

You knocked on the door. “Lucifer??” you shouted.

“It’s unlocked! Come on in!” you get a response back from a familiar voice.

You slowly opened the door, feeling weird about just walking into someone else’s space, but you froze in your spot. “Why am I heari- ?!”

You saw a portal in the middle of his living room, leading to some sort of…beautiful garden! With a pond! And ducks! DUCKIES!! You squeal internally.

You step over the portal threshold, eager to get as close to the ducks as possible, but you feel a tap on your shoulder, which makes you freeze again, like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh! Sorry! I keep forgetting you get a little jumpy,” you hear in a low tone, with an almost flirtatious chuckle.

“Oh! Lucifer! It’s ok, I-,” you start as you turn around, you see Lucifer dressed especially handsomely today, in a black with red pinstripe dress shirt that’s partially unbuttoned at the top, and tight black slacks. Not only that, but you see that he had laid out a little picnic for you both, on top of a quilted blanket with ducks all along the hem.

“What’s all this for?” you ask Lucifer, a hint of excitement and curiosity evident in your tone.

Lucifer blushed a tiny bit. “Oh, you know, I just thought it would be a nice change of pace from our normal little hangout routine… Plus, I’ve been meaning to show you my private garden for a while now,” He added, with a proud smirk and a slight puff of his chest.

It was your turn to blush, raising your eyebrows in response. “Oh, wow! I shouldn’t have been so surprised, then,” you say as you look around at all the colorful flowers, trees, and the pond. “It’s beautiful…”

“Yes…,” Lucifer stopped himself just in time before he could let out a ‘You are,’ and instead said “It’s my pride and joy. Well, besides Charlie, of course. I like coming here to think.”

“And it’s not at all related to the little feathery friends over there?” you question, playfully.

“...Okay, they’re a bonus,” Lucifer answered as he looked away, getting a little shy whenever he saw your beautiful, sweet smile. “But they’re not the only reason!” he retorted.

You chuckle and smile wider. “It’s okay, I get it. I’d hang out here all the time, too.”

Lucifer tried to relax his tense shoulders for a second. “Anyway, shall we?” He gestures towards the little picnic setup, offering you his other hand.

You responded with a “Yes, let’s,” as you took his hand and sat beside him, knees brushing up against each other.

Conversation flowed easily, as you both ate, and walked around the little pond, feeding the ducks some leftover bread crumbs and some feed Lucifer had left by the pond for this exact purpose. One got close enough that you knelt down, trying to convince it to eat out of your hand. It did so enthusiastically, making you giggle from the tickle of its bill against your palm.

You weren’t paying attention to him at that moment, and didn’t notice how Lucifer was looking down at you, a soft, blushing smile across his face. Your laugh was adorable, and almost as addicting as your singing. Almost.

You finally stand back up. “I could get so much inspiration here.”

Lucifer chuckled a bit in response. “Yeah, it’s nice for getting inspiration to write.”

“You write?? What sort of writing?” You ask, surprised. You didn’t think he’d have the time to do more than just writing for his work.

“Oh, y’know, mostly… songs I write here and there, when I have the time,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s bragging.

Your eyes grow a little wider. “Really? Well, if you’re ever willing to perform one, I’d love to hear it. Maybe I can help you out with the lyrics or something?”

Lucifer chuckles, blushing again. “Actually… I kind of have a song that I was… hoping you’d wanna check out?” He asks, looking to the ground, then back up to your shimmering eyes.

“Oh! Uh.. okay,” you answer, trying to contain your excitement. You had never heard Lucifer sing, but Charlie had told you that he has an amazing voice! “Sounds great!”

Lucifer smiled wider at you, took your hand and led you to a nearby sun room, connected to his manor. Inside, you saw a collection of his instruments, with his violin being the only one not hanging, instead sitting on a little stand in front of possibly the most beautiful piano you had ever seen! An all white full sized grand piano, with carved gold filigree on the legs, music stand, and matching bench. “I love your taste in pianos!”

Lucifer laughed wholeheartedly. “Thanks. I made it!” He claimed proudly, with another small puff of his chest. “It’s enchanted, so it plays by itself. All you have to do is think of the song you want, then touch the piano, and…,” he touches the side wall, and the piano keys start moving, as if an invisible pianist was swiping their hand on every key, from lowest to highest. “Voila!”

Your grin grew very wide, and your stomach fluttered, as the ivories tickled themselves. The sound of a piano was something that was extremely nostalgic for you, reminding you of when your mother would practice for church, and when your dad would sometimes be tuning the baby grand your family owned. You close your eyes and sigh, “I’ve missed that sound.”

“You did tell me that your parents were musicians, but you never told me what they played?” Lucifer questioned.

“Well, technically, my mother was the pianist for our… local church. My dad knew how to play, but by profession, he tuned and rebuilt them. So, once I finally moved out, a home just… never felt quite like home without the sound of a piano being played.” Thinking about it makes you sigh again, only with sadness. Your mother passed away a few years before you wound up in Hell, and the sound of a piano being played, while enjoyable, after her, became a bit bittersweet. You had only just stopped crying whenever a church hymn was played around you, right before taking your journey here.

“... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something that was painful for you,” Lucifer put his hand on your shoulder, a concerned expression on his face.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you replied with a bit of a reflective smile. “If all those roads led to here, then I have no regrets,” you said, as you looked in Lucifer’s eyes with a half-lidded smile.

Lucifer felt his heartbeat going faster from that look, swiftly hiding yet another blush by turning his head and walking over to the piano. “Sorry if I sound a bit nervous. I had never played this song for anyone before, and it’s kind of… personal…”

“Oh, trust me, I understand,” you replied with a sweet, reassuring tone and a bit of a chuckle. “But you know me. I won’t bite. In fact, I can close my eyes and face away if you feel more comfortable with that,” you offer with a caring grin.

Lucifer chuckled softly back. “Nah, that’s okay. I like being able to see your reaction. Thank you, though.” He let out a deep sigh. “Well, ready?”

You sat down on a small bench against the wall close by. “Ready!”

Lucifer grins, and lifts up his violin to his chin, while touching the piano at the same time, never breaking eye contact with you until a few measures into the introduction of the song, when his violin part kicked in. The way he played along with the reverb of both his instruments instantaneously gave you goosebumps, all throughout your body.

“I was told that heaven's never too far gone

I was told my soul was meant to sing a song

But as I tarried through life

I learned that that was not quite so.”

You couldn’t help but sigh with him at that part. You related to that, at least, in a bit more of a literal sense.

“Through right and wrong and perpetual sin

Forever bound to struggle from within

Was I sold a lie? Because if heaven are these people

Then I don't want to sing their song…”

Lucifer closed his eyes at this point, lowering his volume for the dip in the song flow.

“But grace, how sweet it sounds

Claimed and loved for nothing,

Redeemed, was lost, now found…”

“Can I hope? Can I change?

Can I erase a past that has caused so much pain?

Wash it clean, white as snow

Surely there's hell to pay, but I'll never be the same…!”

You open your eyes again, feeling another wave of chills. Charlie definitely undersold her dad’s singing capability, you thought. You saw Lucifer take a peak at you for a second, as he continued on.

“I was told that heaven's streets were paved with gold

I was told that I would never walk alone

But my hands and feet are bloodied

And no one wants a sinner's lot.”

You look Lucifer in the eyes empathetically, wanting to go up and hug him, but you resist and go back to listening.

“If man cannot forgive what I have done

And man was made from who is up above

Then why give us a choice?

You know that I will lose control…!”

Suddenly, you see a cloud of enchanted smoke form above the piano, showing silhouettes of Charlie, Vaggie, and…you?!

“But grace, it holds my hand,

And tells me I am worthy to love

And not hold back…”

The image of you slowly turns to the side, with a silhouette of Lucifer stepping in from the left, holding imaginary-you in his arms. Your eyes and smile slowly widen, feeling yourself welling up with tears, but trying desperately to keep control of yourself for a little longer.

“Can I hope? Can I change?

Can I erase a past that has caused so much pain?

Wash it clean, white as snow

Surely there's hell to pay, but I'll never…!”

You see imaginary Charlie and Vaggie’s silhouettes join Lucifer’s and yours, in a little group-side-hug, as you and Lucifer turn your heads to face each other, and… KISS?!

"Can you love? Can you change?

Can you erase a past that has caused so much pain?

Wash it clean, white as snow

Surely there's hell to pay, in this cage I won't stay

'Fore my soul's cast away, and I'll never…

…Be the same.”

You saw your imaginary-selves sitting and watching the sunset, as the enchanted cloud slowly dissipates into nothing. You lowered your gaze to see Lucifer, looking down with a tear streaming down his cheek. He slowly looks up and over to you, with an almost pleading expression.

“... Well?...,” he quietly lets out, with a sniffle.

All those waves of emotion come crashing over you all at once, as you start to quietly clap, tears streaming down your face as well. You get up and walk over to Lucifer, and give him a very strong hug, burying your face in his shoulder. “... Are you saying what I think you’re saying, or is it just wishful thinking?... Was all this really…?,” you let out, your cracked voice muffled by his shirt and your own sobs.

Lucifer wraps one arm around your waist, while his other hand lifts your face to him, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes, and oozing adoration. “Y/n, I know it might be hard, but would you maybe consider…giving me the honor of… being your boyfriend?..,” he says softly, still crying a little.

You start to sob even harder, holding onto the back of his shirt with a tight fist. “Yes… I can’t believe this is really happening, Yes!!” you exclaim.

Lucifer hugs you back, sobbing harder now as well. “..A-are you sure?... Y-you might have to be in the s-spotlight sometimes, i-if you’re with me…”

You look up at Lucifer with just as much adoration in your eyes, as you wrap your arms around his neck, and he holds your cheek. You lean into his palm, as you say “Absolutely. It’s worth it…,” Another tear streams down your face. “... You’re worth it, Lucifer Morningstar.”

Lucifer lets out another sob, while wiping your stray tear away with his thumb. You start giggling through all of the tears, which was apparently infectious, because Lucifer started to join you, hugging you back tightly and shaking your bodies around in excitement. Once you both calm down, he holds your face again and adds “You are worth it too, my beautiful Siren. And I’m going to keep reminding you of that, every minute of every day, for as long as you’ll have me…” he lets his gaze shift between your lips, and back to your eyes. “M-may I…?”

Your smile grows wide enough that it starts to make your cheeks ache. You slowly pull his face closer to you by the neck, letting your lips crash into each other passionately at the last second. You grip the nape of his neck, while he very slowly rubs his hands up and down the curves of your waist, savoring this moment. His lips were sweet, soft, and…so intoxicating.

You both felt like you were finally home, in each other’s arms.

Fin

A/N: YAY!! I'm happy with how this all turned out! I'm a little sad that it's done, though. I feel like an avid reader that just finished a series they got -super- engrossed in, like "What do I do with myself now?" You know? I got a LOT of inspiration just from having Caleb Hyles's song stuck in my head for -weeks- now. Not that I'm complaining. It's gorgeous! I'm just happy this final chapter came out of my obsession. @u@ I also got a bit of inspiration for the enchanted smoke scene by watching Btoon's animatic based on the song (THANKS FOR MAKING ME HAPPY-CRY DUDE IT WAS BEAUTIFUL)! Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this ride-along with me and possibly my -biggest- hyper fixation in my life thus far! Please let me know what you thought about it in the comments! I haven't gotten very many, and I'd really like some more, at least now that it's done. ^u^'

~Shae <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #fluff #lucifer morningstar #fem!reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin lucifer x reader #plus sized reader #sorry not sorry #songfic #songfic hazbin hotel

8 notes · View notes

sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

Text

My Baby Girl

Character/Fandom: Austin Butler

Requested: Yes - anon(s)

Prompt: You’re pregnant with Austin’s baby. This is the whole shebang, friends, from the test all the way to the birth. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Pregnancy stuff, body negativity/self-shaming, probably pregnancy inaccuracies lolol

Rating: Pg || Word Count: 3275

A/N: Pregnancy fics are...not my specialty 😅 I gotta be honest w y'all the smutty stuff is way more my speed lmao. but hopefully, this isn't too horrible. i am so sorry if you don't like the baby's name but it's the only one i could think of to make sense. Requests are open, as always 💕

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You nervously tap your foot as you sit on the couch and wait for Austin to get home. He’s been out doing press for “Elvis” for the last few hours, but you have something incredibly important to tell him. It's something that can't wait. You grip the tiny white stick in your hand like it's a lifeline. In some ways, it is. Or will be someday. You hear the door open and the scuttle of Austin’s feet as he comes into the house. You gulp and call his name.

“Austin, baby,” you say, your smile faltering even though you don't mean it to. “I have something really important to tell you.”

He comes into the living room, looking sexy as ever. But also tired. You momentarily think about telling him another day but decide against it. He needs to know now. He kisses you quickly and then sits down on the couch.

“What is it, love?” he asks, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. You bite your lip nervously and take a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant,” you spit out and wait anxiously for his response. He's silent for a minute, staring at you without any expression. Within a matter of seconds, a smile begins to break across his face. You breathe a sigh of relief and smile back at him. He says nothing but gestures to your stomach.

“Can I…”

“Of course,” you respond. “Although I don’t think you’ll feel anything quite yet. I just took the test today.”

He places his hand on your stomach anyway, spreading his fingers out, and just taking in the fact that you're going to have a baby together. Your own baby.

“Are you happy?” you ask.

“I’ve never felt happier in my life,” he replies.

He leans forward on the couch and gently grabs your face with both hands, bringing your lips to his for a soft kiss. When you pull back, he starts showering your body with kisses. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, and all over your face. Somehow, he ends up on top of you on the couch. You wind up giggling and trying to push him off of you. He finally stops and looks down at you, hovering over your body. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear and his eyes flick to your lips for a brief moment. Your heart flutters.

“You’d better get off of me,” you say, laughing. “This is how we made the baby the first time.”

He smiles and kisses your lips one more time.

~ 6 weeks in ~

It's been roughly six weeks since you first told Austin you're pregnant, and things have been going very nicely. Even though you aren't showing yet, you're constantly looking in the mirror trying to see some evidence of your baby growing inside you. It's finally the day of your first appointment and, like a good baby daddy, Austin is tagging along.

You're nervous waiting in the office but having Austin there holding your hand and grinning from ear to ear like an idiot is certainly helpful. Finally, the doctor calls you back. She runs some tests, confirms that you are pregnant, and does an ultrasound. You grip Austin’s hand while the doctor moves the instrument around your skin trying to find the tiny sweet-pea-sized baby growing in your belly. You gasp when you see a tiny white dot floating around on the screen.

“Ope, there’s your baby!” the doctor says excitedly. You smile up at Austin, and he kisses the top of your head. He walks close to the monitor and puts his fingers up to the tiny being as if he can touch it through the screen.

“It’s not even the size of my hand and I already love it more than anything,” he whispers, and you smile.

~ 3 months in ~

Roughly 16 weeks later, things have started to get slightly more annoying, and you are definitely showing. You can already see stretch marks appearing. Your feet are swollen more than usual, and you feel like a big lumbering oaf. You can't imagine what's to come if this is only the first trimester. Your belly has started to grow rounder and stick out, but not big enough to look pregnant yet.

As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you just feel fat and ugly. You try not to pay attention to it, knowing that it's only going to get worse. But some days you just can't take it. This is one of those days. You and Austin are supposed to be going out for dinner, but you can't fit into any of your best clothes. Everything is so much tighter than it used to be, and you're in no mood to be uncomfortable.

Panic rising in your chest, you start to throw clothes out and onto the ground. You dig through your neatly folded clothes and make your closet a huge mess. Austin comes into the closet while you're in the middle of trying to desperately and angrily stretch out a shirt to fit your pregnant body.

“Baby, what’s going on in here?” he asks, holding his hands up to stop you from struggling. Once he gets the shirt away from you, you collapse onto the piles of clothes and start to cry profusely. He gets down on the ground next to you and pulls you into his lap. You cry and cry, grasping onto his shirt for stability of some kind. He rubs your back calmly.

“Shhh, shhh, baby, everything’s alright. Everything’s gonna be just fine, my love,” he whispers softly, pressing kisses to your hair. You sniffle, looking up at him through tears.

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m always here for you, you know that.”

“I hate myself,” you say, and the tears start to come again.

“No, babe, what do you mean? How could you hate something so perfect?” he asks. “There’s nothing to hate about you. Not one thing.”

“Yes there is!” you wail. “My body is hideous. I have stretch marks everywhere, and I’m getting fat and swollen. None of my cute going out clothes fit, and it’s only going to get worse from here. It’s like everything I was ashamed of before is blown up three times as big now.”

Austin shifts so he can reach your face. His finger slides under your chin and tilts your face up to his. He wipes a few tears from your cheeks and then leans down to catch your eyes. Even though you're too embarrassed to look at him, when you accidentally make eye contact you can't break away from his beautiful blue eyes. They're so filled with love that your tears almost stop immediately. You sniffle again and reach out to touch his face with a finger.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you more than anything in this world, the next one, or any other universe that might be out there. Because you are the most beautiful thing in any universe. Do you know how lucky I feel every single day that I’m with you? That I’m with someone who is so incredibly out of my league?”

You scoff, wiping snot from your nose to prove that he's wrong.

“Don’t do that. Don’t downplay yourself like that, love. You are beautiful, you are strong, and you are damn sexy. I’ll love you no matter what you look like. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re always beautiful to me, inside and out. You’re everything I could possibly have asked for in a partner, and in a mother for my baby. And I just know our baby will be the most beautiful baby in the world, cause it’s gonna look like its mama.”

You've stopped crying, in awe of the words he's saying to you. How could anyone be so giving, so selfless, so kind?

“But I’m just gonna get fatter,” you say. “And then I’ll be fat after I have the baby and…”

“Shhh,” he interrupts you. “You’re really gonna make me go through all the things I love about you? I’ll do it.”

He leans over to grab your foot. He presses a kiss to the top of it.

“I love this foot,” he says before pressing a kiss to your shin. “I love this leg.”

He moves up your whole body, kissing every part of you and following by saying how much he loves each section of your body. He’s finally reached your lips, and he slies his hand around your neck, bringing you to him. He kisses you firmly, holding onto you as strongly as he can.

“Goddamn do I love those lips,” he says with a smile, and you giggle. His head bends down, and he moves your t-shirt off of your stomach to press three kisses on the swollen skin.

“And most of all I love this tummy,” he says, laying his head on it and looking at you. “Because it’s carrying our baby. Our love. The biggest way we can show it off.”

You run your fingers through his hair with a weak smile. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach and yank on Austin’s hair with a gasp. His head flies off your stomach and he stares down at your tummy in shock. Your mouth falls open.

“Oh my god!” you shout.

“Was that….”

“A kick! I think,” you finish his sentence. You both pause, waiting to see if it will happen again. It doesn't and your smile starts to fade. Austin gets down close to your belly again.

“Hey little baby, mommy and I would really like to feel you again. Can you say hi?” he mumbles against the skin and then replaces his cheek. You both stare at each other for a minute and then another kick comes. Your hands fly to your face, and you squeal. Austin sits back up and kisses you passionately, smiling the whole way through.

“See, look how amazing your body is, babe,” he says, gesturing at your stomach. “You’re literally growing a tiny human being in there. There’s nothing more amazing than that. God, I can’t wait for him to get here.”

You shake your head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry…him?” you ask. “No, no, no it’s gonna be a girl.”

“I’ll love it whatever it is,” Austin responds, leaning in for another kiss. “But it’s gonna be a boy.”

You playfully smack him.

“Now get up and get that sexy body dressed. You need food, baby,” he says, standing up and offering you a hand.

He helps you pick out your outfit and showers you with compliments the entire time. You climb into the car and leave for the restaurant. You sit with a smile on your face, gently rubbing circles on your stomach. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“What should we name it?” you ask.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we know whether it’s a boy or girl?”

“Well, we could prepare for both and then choose when we know.”

“Alright…”

Silence falls as you both try to think. Finally, Austin speaks up.

“How about Lisa for a girl….and Dallas for a boy?”

You think for a second.

“I like Dallas. And Lisa…as in Lisa Marie?” you ask.

“Well, we don’t have to use Marie too, but it’ll always be a reminder of this time in our lives. The happiest time,” he says, reaching over to grab your hand. You intertwine your fingers into his and smile.

“Alright…Lisa it is.”

~ 8 weeks + some change in ~

You're huge. Almost nine months into this pregnancy and all of the worst symptoms are starting to hit you. You can't fit into any cute clothes and don't want to try. Everything aches, and you have to get help to stand up after sitting down. You can't get comfortable at night and are sweaty all the time. The little baby is kicking like crazy, angrily and frantically now. Not to mention that your cravings are going crazy. You can't remember the last time you ate something that a normal human being would eat. Today, your craving is potato chips….on ice cream. But not any potato chips or any ice cream. You have to have chocolate ice cream and Ruffles salted potato chips. You come down the stairs like a ravenous beast.

“Austin,” you practically growl.

He looks up with concern at your urgent tone. You're gripping the banister to the stairs, white-knuckled.

“I need ice cream and potato chips,” you say desperately.

“D…do you need it now?” he asks, almost afraid.

You curl your fingers deeper into the wood and grate your teeth.

“Yes, now,” you hiss. You don't mean to be mean, you can't help it. It literally feels like your entire body will die if you don't get ice cream and potato chips right that second. Austin jumps up and immediately gets the keys to the car. He knows the drill at this point. You feel horrible for constantly for putting him through so much and being rude about it, but your body is literally fighting you.

“What brand?”

“Ruffles chips. I don’t care about the ice cream.”

He starts to run out the door, but you call him back.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you,” you say with a small smile. He returns a quick smile and then rushes out. While he's gone, you veg on the couch and flick through the tv stations, feeling irritated. You try to take deep breaths and remember not to take it out on Austin when he gets back. You really are like a voracious wild animal and jump out of your seat when the garage door sounds. You run out to the car to meet him and snatch the grocery bag from his hands. By the time he’d come inside behind you, you're already tearing the bag of chips open. He gently takes it from your grasp.

“Hold up there, tiger. Let me put it in a bowl will you? Jesus,” he says, shaking his head.

“Sorry…I just…I need it so bad,” you whine.

“You know there was a time you said that about my-”

You hold your hand up.

“Not now, Austin. Don’t even.”

He scoops your ice cream into a bowl and arranges the chips in a little circle on the top. You appreciate the effort and feel terrible that you're about to absolutely demolish it in a matter of seconds. He hands it to you, and you snatch it, running back to sit down in the living room.

“Thank you. I love you!” you yell between bites of food.

“No problem, baby. I’m glad I can make you happy. I love you, too.”

~ that night ~

It's the middle of the night when you groan yourself awake. You roll around for a few minutes, clutching your stomach. Somehow, you're able to fall back asleep for a few hours but are awoken again by intense pains. It is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You figure it's just pregnancy pains until you stand up to go to the bathroom, and they intensify.

“Owwwww!” you shout, tensing what feels like every muscle in your body.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Austin has turned over in his sleep and is peering at you through the dark.

“Austin, grab the bag,” you say, already waddling to the closet to get dressed.

He bounces out of bed and grabs your pregnancy panic bag. He helps you hastily get some clothes on, you hold onto him as you somehow get down the stairs. You are breathing in and out, trying to make it through the pain. You've had to stop a few times to rest and catch your breath. But eventually, you make it into the car and Austin is zooming to the hospital. He's holding your hand and driving with the other, which is making you nervous. Not to mention that he is most definitely speeding.

“Honey, could you slow down?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, slowing down immediately. You smile painfully and squeeze his hand.

You arrive at the hospital and Austin helps you out and inside before he runs back out to find parking. The nurses help you into your hospital gown and get you ready and comfortable.

“Oh dear,” one of them says, and you sit up panicked.

“What? What?” you ask. It never seems good when medical staff say things like that.

“Honey, you’re going to give birth very soon. Did you call the hospital when these pains started?”

“No they only started less than an hour ago.”

“Well, you must have slept through them, then. Becuase you are extremely dilated,” she says, shaking her head. “Like less than an hour dilated.”

“I-” you stop in your tracks, realizing that the first bout of pain you felt had been the beginning of your labor. You sit back and try to relax, thankful that it probably won't be much longer. Austin comes running in with wild hair and a half-zipped jacket. You try to laugh at his wild appearance but it just turns into a groan.

“Are you alright? How are you doing? Can I get you anything?” he asks rapidly, searching your body all over to make sure you actually are doing alright.

“Yes, thank you. I’m fine. I just…want it out,” you hiss.

He sits down in a chair that's been pulled up to the side of the bed and holds your hand softly. You squeeze his fingers and breathe through the pain for the next hour or so until the nurse finally says it's time. She helps you sit up a little and more people in white lab coats and scrubs come rushing into the room.

“Okay, the baby is crowning,” the doctor says, and you grip onto Austin’s hand.

“You’re doing great, baby girl,” he says, smiling and holding your hand between his fingers. You hiss out breaths as you begin to push with the doctor’s guidance.

It's definitely painful, but everything is going so fast that by the time you realize the baby is out, you're already starting to lay down. The doctors help you finish the birthing process and then take the baby to clean it up and run tests. You and Austin have chosen not to know the gender of your baby beforehand. Even though there is sweat all over your forehead, Austin brushes your hair back and kisses the hot skin.

“You did so good, mama,” he says quietly and smiles. “I love you so much.”

You weakly smile back. After a while, one of the nurses returns with a little bundled blanket. A pink bundle.

“Congratulations!” she says. “It’s a girl!"

You smile, trying not to let the tears in your eyes fall as you accept the tiny thing into your arms. Austin is sitting on the edge of the bed with his arm around your shoulders. You stick your finger out and your baby hooks onto it with a hand.

“Little baby Lisa,” you say, smiling breathlessly.

“She’s beautiful,” Austin says, gently touching her forehead. He rubs a thumb on her forehead and leans down to kiss her. “I love you. And I love you.”

He angles his head to give you a kiss. You smile into it and when he pulls back, you gently touch his cheek.

“I love you too.”

“My two baby girls,” Austin says. “The lights of my life.”

He kisses your forehead again and then you both look back to the sleeping baby in your arms. Your baby girl.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

#austin butler #milasfics #milasaustinfics #milasthings #milasaustincontent #this gif...#please

349 notes · View notes