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adriennebarnes · 4 days

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A Cinderella Story

Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N, a McLaren mechanic, dances with the prince of Ferrari, at a Rolex masquerade charity ball. Charles has no clue who he danced with and is trying to find the girl of his dreams.

Warning: bad writing I guess, spelling and grammatical errors, inaccurate events

A/N: like i said before, I’m new to F1 so I don’t really know what kind of events go on so bear with me, please. Also, thank you so much for liking my other Charles Leclerc one shots, you have no idea how much it means to me that you like them. Y/N’s relationship with the Lando and Oscar is very much like brother and sister. Y/N is younger, mainly because I’m 21, hope all of y’all are okay with that.

Y/N was talking to Lando about his car after the Monaco Free Practice 1. (As a mechanic, she has her hair up)

“I am almost finished fixing your car, I think there’s something missing but it could be that I’m overthinking. You think you can test it out before FP2? That’s allowed, right?” Y/N asked, fishing her bracelet out of her pocket and putting it back on.

“Yeah I can drive it, 10 laps should be enough, yeah?” Lando asked, putting on his race suit and helmet.

“You’re the best, Lando!” Y/N exclaimed.

“I know.” Lando teased as he got in the car.

After the 10 laps, Lando got out of the car, took his helmet off, tied the suit around his waist, and walked to Y/N.

“The car is good, you worry too much, there is a reason why Zak hired you as a mechanic. Listen, I’m going out with the guys from Quadrant, want to come? I’ll invite Oscar too.” Lando said.

“Yeah sure I’ll come, when?” Y/N asked.

“I was thinking after the second practice, we can hit the showers, change, and go straight to the club.” Lando said.

“Okay, sounds good, I’ll go ask Oscar if he wants to come.” Y/N said, she was clearing her stuff and was on her way to talk to Oscar when she bumped into someone. “Que torpe soy, I'm so sorry.” Y/N apologized without looking.

“My fault, chéri, you alright?” Charles asked, looking at Y/N for signs of discomfort.

“Nah I'm good, thank you.” Y/N said flustered, unbeknownst to her, Oscar saw the whole thing go down and he was holding in his laughter. “Don’t you dare, Australia.” Y/N warned.

“Your crush on Leclerc is so obvious, America, it hurts to watch.” Oscar said between laughs.

“Ha ha, like you weren't like this around Lily?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, I was nervous, but I definitely wasn't as bad as you." Oscar said.

"Anyway, Lando invited us to go out after FP2 with the quadrant gang, you coming? Please say yes, Lando is probably going to spend all night talking to Max anyway, I can’t be alone.” Y/N practically begged.

“Yeah sure, I’ll go, you need a few drinks to erase what happened with Leclerc.” Oscar said.

“Awesome! So Zak sent an email saying that he has a surprise for us tomorrow, do you have any idea what that might be?" Y/N asked, showing Oscar the email on her phone, Oscar took her phone to read it better.

"I don't know what it could be about. Anything that needs to be fixed in my car or is it good?" Oscar asked.

"it should be fine, i checked everything with Henry and Bryan (other mechanics), nothings wrong. It’s ready for the second free practice." Y/N said.

“Great. You'll be watching, right?" Oscar asked.

"Of course! Need to make sure my papaya boys get fastest lap." Y/N said.

"And your monegasque too." Oscar teased.

"Don't make me hurt you, Australia." Y/N said.

"You love me too much to do that, America." Oscar said, walking.

"Whatever." Y/N replied.

Two hours later, FP2 started, Y/N was watching everything with the rest of the team, eating chips.

“Is that necessary?” Andrea asked.

“You have no idea how much.” Y/N commented.

FP2 went well, Charles Leclerc got fastest lap. Lando and Oscar took off the helmets and balaclavas, tying their suits around their waists.

“Great free practice, sorry you didn’t get fastest lap though.” Y/N said.

“No your not.” Lando commented.

“Bet you were happy when Leclerc got it.” Oscar said.

“Well I can’t say I wasn’t happy.” Y/N said.

“Alright so let’s start getting ready. Will you drive or am I driving you?” Lando asked.

“I carpooled with Henry, drive me?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah sure. Shit, i can’t, gotta pick up Max.” Lando said.

“I’ll drive you.” Oscar offered.

“Thanks, Australia.” Y/N said. “Now both of you hit the showers, y’all are sweaty.” Y/N said.

After the boys showered, they changed, Y/N changed into something more club appropriate and let her hair down.

Y/N walked to Oscar’s car.

“What took you so long?” Oscar asked.

“Im a girl, guys can wear a shirt and jeans and everyone will freak out, if I wear the same thing, I get told I look crusty.” Y/N said.

“But you just had that outfit with you?” Oscar asked.

“If I learned anything from watching Crazy Rich Asians, you should always have a clubbing outfit and a cocktail outfit with you at all time.” Y/N said, getting into the passenger seat of Oscar’s car. “Lando sent you the address right?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Oscar said. He started the car, they listened to music and talked until they got to the club. They got in, Y/N said hello to everyone with a kiss on the cheek because that’s how her mom raised her. She sat at their booth and Y/N spotted Charles at the bar.

“Bro, Charles is here.” Y/N said, patting Oscar’s arm.

“And? You gonna do something or observe from afar like you always do?” Oscar asked.

“Well…” Y/N started but she saw a woman approach Charles. “I don’t want to interrupt his scintillating conversation.”

“I Don’t understand, you talk to Lando and I just fine.” Oscar commented.

“I was nervous around you guys too, don’t lie. I just got used to y’all, but I never had a crush this huge before, I’ve never been in a relationship, had a first date, or even a first kiss, I’m very inexperienced, okay?” Y/N admitted (guilty).

“So you’re just going to be pining away for him?” Oscar asked,

“Yep.” Y/N said.

The table ordered drinks, designated drivers get 2 drinks max. The night was fun, Lando got to deejay again, Carlos was also there so he joined their group. Since they had free practice 3 tomorrow, they needed to rest up. Oscar dropped Y/N off at her apartment, she changed, washed her face, put on a silk bonnet to protect her hair, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Y/N had her hair in two French braids and wearing her favorite bracelet. She drove to the the track and walked to the Lando’s garage.

“Are you as tired as I look?” Y/N asked.

“No, I feel fine, really.” Lando said,

“Lucky, i had trouble sleeping.” Y/N said. Lando was going to say something else when Zak came into the garage.

“Alright, I have an announcement to make. As you know, F1 is partners with Rolex, so we are invited to Rolex’s masquerade charity ball. It will be on Sunday after the Grand Prix. It starts at 8, it gives you plenty of time to get ready after the race and podium interviews.” Zak said. Everyone was excited.

“Would you give me money to buy a dress? And shoes?” Y/N whispered to Lando.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go shopping with you.” Lando whispered back.

“This is why I love you.” Y/N teased. Zak walked towards Y/N and Lando went to talk to Oscar.

"Y/N, I need you in the McLaren Technology Centre on Monday." Zak said.

"Really? For what?" Y/N asked.

“For mechanical stuff. We’re planning on creating a new McLaren, you like the creative process, and I still need Henry and Bryan here if we have anything major to fix after the Grand Prix. I already got your ticket, first class too. Don’t miss your flight.” Zak said.

“Of course, I won’t.” Y/N said. Zak gave Y/N her ticket and she started checking the information. Her flight leaves at 3am. “Wait, isn’t this flight a little soon?”

“I know, but I need as many people working on the new McLaren as possible. You’ll only be there for 4 days, then you can relax in Monaco before we go to Canada.” Zak said and he walked away. Lands came back with Oscar and saw Y/N’s worried face.

“Whats wrong, America?” Oscar asked.

“If i go to the Rolex ball thing, I would have to leave before midnight so I have time to change and go to airport in Nice. Oh shit, I have to pack my luggage.” Y/N said.

“Can’t you just skip the ball?” Landon asked.

“Dude, when am I ever going to get invited to theses kind of events? I’m going and you’re taking me shopping.” Y/N said, pointing at Lando.

“Fine, but we’re getting food after. You think we can do it after qualifying?” Lando asked.

“I guess, but you’re calling the store, they know you.” Y/N said. “How do y’all feel about this race?” Y/N asked the boys.

“Max is definitely winning, but hopefully we’ll get on the podium.” Oscar said.

“I believe in you guys, really.” Y/N said before hugging them.

“But you also want Leclerc on the podium.” Oscar said.

“I’m just a girl, leave me alone.” Y/N said,

FP3 and Quali went by fast, no accidents. Max got pole, Charles P2, Oscar P3. During the break between FP3 and Quali, Y/N tried fixing up her Jeep Wrangler Sahara, with Zak’s okay so, of course. Lando texted Y/N the address to the shop and she drove there, parking right next to Lando.

“Alright, love, let’s get you that dress.” Lands said, guiding Y/N into the store with his hand on her lower back. “Hello, we’re looking for an evening dress for her.” Lando told the sales associate.

“Of course, all these dresses right here should be in your size, we have a selection of heels that would go well with these dresses as well.” The sales associate, Ana, said.

“Do you have any dresses in pastel blue?” Y/N asked. Ana started looking through the rack and pulled out a dress that she thought Y/N might like.

“Here you go. Because this dress has a slit, I recommend some tall high heels to elongate your legs. I prefer the platform ones like these.” Ana said, showing Y/N the heels. “Here is a dressing room, I’ll be right outside if you need help zipping it up, okay?” Ana said, handing Y/N the dress and heels.

“Thank you so much.” Y/N said, stepping into the dressing room and getting changed. She got the dress on and sat in the chair to put on the heels. After she strapped on the heels, she tries zipping up the dress, but can’t make it to the top. “Ana, I need help.” Y/N said. Ana pulled the curtain and helped Y/N zip the dress.

“You look beautiful.” Ana said. Y/N walked out of the dressing room, and she looked at Lando, who was on his phone, he looked up and his jaw dropped.

“Wow Y/N, you look great. You’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” Lando said, getting up to get a closer look. He made the motion to have Y/N twirl and she did.

“Not bad for a mechanic, right?” Y/N joked.

“Not bad at all. We’ll take it.” Lando said.

“I’ll change and we’ll be on our way.” Y/N said. Lando unzipped the dress, stopping right above her waist and Y/N unzipped the rest already in the dressing room. She changed, putting the dress on the hanger and the heels in its box, she got out and gave the things to Lando so he could pay.

After paying Lando handed Y/N her things and they walked outside to their cars.

“Thanks again for buy it.” Y/N said.

“Yeah of course. Where do you want to eat though? I’m starving.” Lands said.

“You pick.” Y/N said.

“If you say so.” Lando said. “Just follow me.” Lando got into his car, Y/N got in hers, and she followed Lando to Graziella, an Italian restaurant.

They were seated, Lando had beef tagliata with Gorgonzola sauce and French fries, Y/N had penne alla carbonara (I looked up the restaurant menu to be as accurate as possible). When they finished eating, they went to the parking lot to get their cars.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lando said goodbye, they hugged before driving off to their apartments.

When arriving to her apartment, Y/N started playing music as she packed for a four day trip. She hung her dress right in front of her closet. She finished packing, had a late night snack, and went to bed.

Tonight’s the night, after the Grand Prix with Max P1, Charles P2, and Lando P3, Y/N was getting ready, putting on her dress, her shoes, styling her hair down, and putting on her bracelet. Everything looked good, her luggage was already in her car. She drove to the venue where the ball was taking place, gave her name to the people in charge, and Y/N was given a masquerade mask.

(Choose whichever dress you like better)

Y/N walked in and all eyes were on her. She began fiddling with her bracelet until two guys approached her.

“America, you look great.” Oscar said.

“Thanks, Australia, Lando showed you the picture he took yesterday huh?” Y/N asked.

“He did.” Oscar said.

“I had to show you off. I don’t see you with your hair down that often, you know.” Lando said.

“I’m a mechanic, can’t have my hair in my face.” Y/N commented. “I’m gonna get a drink, okay, I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, she walked to the drink table to get herself some champagne and another guy walked up to her.

“You made quite the entrance, you know. You Commanded the attention of everyone in the room.” The guy spoke, his voice seemed familiar to Y/N but almost everyone in Monaco has a similar voice.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Y/N feigned an English accent as she curtsied.

“Do you go to these events often?” The guy asked, also sipping champagne,

“Not really, it’s technically a work thing, but this is my first time going to a charity ball.” Y/N replied to the mask stranger. His eyes a beautiful shade of blue-green, his eyes feel so familiar to her, why the hell can’t she figure out who this guy is.

“I’m here for work as well.” The guy replied. They kept talking until a slow song started playing. “Care to dance, chéri?” The guy extended his hand to Y/N

“I’d love to.” Y/N said, taking his hand to dance.

“Baby blue is actually one of my favorite colors.” The guys admitted.

“It’s mine too. I love all shades of blue, but pastel blue is just beautiful.” Y/N said. “So since you’re here for work, what do you do? I’m a mechanic.”

“You’re definitely the prettiest mechanic I ever saw. I’m a driver.” The guys replied. What’s going on in Y/N’s mind is that he’s a driver and has a French accent, it could be Pierre, but he’s with Kika. She’s hoping it’s Charles but she doesn’t want to get disappointed either.

“Thank you, that’s cool that you’re a driver.” Y/N said.

They talked and danced some more, it was all going well until the clock chimed, saying it was 11:55pm.

“Listen, Frenchy, it’s been fun, but I gotta go,” Y/N said, pulling away from him.

“I’m not French, I’m monegasque.” The guy said, the confirmed Y/N’s suspicions. He took off the mask.

“Charles.” Y/N said.

“Yes, I’m Charles Leclerc, what’s your name?” Charles asked, Y/N heard the clock chime again.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go.” Y/N said, she exits the hall and puts the mask on the table before running out the the parking lot to get into her car to drive to her apartment. Charles chased after her but she saw her car leaving. He looked on the ground and he saw the bracelet that she was wearing on the floor.

“I will find out who you are.” Charles said, placing the bracelet in his suit pocket.

Y/N made it to her apartment, parked her car, went upstairs, got changed, and went downstairs to her car but it won’t start.

“Hijo de la chingada, this can’t be happening to me.” Y/N said. She got her luggage out of her car and order an Uber to nice airport,

The car arrived and dropped her off at the airport, she was on time for her flight, everything was good, but Y/N noticed her bracelet was missing.

“Ah, for fucks sake.” Y/N exclaimed as she waited in the terminal for them to call her flight.

Meanwhile Charles got into his Ferrari and drove back to his apartment. When he was home with his dog Leo, he was looking at Instagram to see if anyone posting from the event was the girl he danced with.

"What do you think, Leo? Am i going crazy?" Charles asked the blonde dachshund on his lap. He gets no answer. "Okay, maybe a little, but I had a wonderful time with her."

Charles decided to do the reasonable thing and posted a photo of the charm bracelet he found with the caption "Does this belong to you? Found on the floor of (venue) on May 26th. Contact me if this bracelet is yours." Charles turned off his phone and decided to go to sleep.

The next day, Y/N got off the plane, she turned off the airplane mode on her phone, and that's when she started recieving calls from Lando, she answered.

"Dude, what is wrong with you? I just got off the plane, who died?" Y/N asked, confused why she had so many texts and missed calls from Lando and Oscar.

"Charles posted a photo of your charm bracelet last night. You fucking danced with Charles and you didn't tell me or Oscar? We're happy for you." Lando said. "You should tell him its yours."

"No way, I know i told him i was a mechanic last night, but he is definitely expecting someone as beautiful as Kika, he would totally be disappointed if he finds out it was me." Y/N said, getting an Uber to drive her to the hotel Zak also booked for her.

"You are beautiful, Y/N, honestly, if we weren't friends, i would have flirted with you everyday until you gave me a chance." Lando said.

"Thank you but i can't help but feel how i feel. I gott go, I'm heading to my hotel then i'll go to McLaren, talk to you later." Y/N said.

The four days Y/N was in Woking, Charles was answering DMs of women claiming it was their bracelet. He would follow up with the questions "What do you do for work?" and "What color was your dress?" No one has answered those two questions correctly. Charles was starting to think it was a lost cause and he would never find her. He decided to go out with Pierre and Kika and he brought Leo with him.

"Still haven't found her, Charlie?" Pierre asked.

"No! It has been four days, everyone in my DMs who is claiming the bracelet is not her." Charles said.

"Charles, do you even know this girl's name?" Kika asked.

"I don't, i just have her bracelet and there is no indication of a name or anything that could be useful." Charles said.

"I'm sorry, Charles." Kika said, rubbing his arm.

"I felt we had a connection, even if she did call me frenchy." Charles said.

"Well there isn't a way to shorten 'monegasque' you know." Pierre said.

"Yes, I am aware." Charles said.

It was now the Canadian Grand Prix, Y/N flew with Lando and Oscar obviously. When they landed, they went to their hotel rooms, to leave their stuff and went to the hotel restaurant to order some food. Y/N had her hair down becasue she was not risking a ponytail headache. She was sitting with Oscar while Lando was talking to Carlos. Charles came downstairs and he spotted Y/N with her hair down. It looked remarkably similar to the girl he danced with. She saw Lando with Carlos so he sat right next to Lando.

"Hey Lando, quick question, did Y/N attend the Rolex thing?" Charles asked.

"She did, yeah, why?" Lando asked the monegasque.

"Does this happen to be her bracelet?" Charles asked, pulling out the bracelet from his pants pocket.

"Okay, why are you carrying that around?" Lando asked curiously.

"Just answer the question, Lando." Charles said.

"yes, yes, thats her bracelet." Lando admitted.

It all made sense, Charles started thinking about the first time he met Y/N and she called him 'Frenchy'.

It was Y/N's first day in the paddock and she walked into Charles's garage by accident. She was looking around and she bumped into him, Charles exclaimed something in French.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, frenchy, I'm just a little lost." Y/N said.

"First, I am not French, i am monegasque." Charles said.

"Oh my god, you're Charles Leclerc! Sorry, I'm Y/N, I'm looking for the McLaren garage." Y/N said, holding her hand out for Charles to shake, which he did.

"Its on the other side actually. So why are you here?" Charles asked.

"Oh, I am McLaren's new mechanic." Y/N said.

"Nice to meet you, I'll walk you to McLaren." Charles said.

Charles had a tiny crush on her since that day but Y/N hardly spoke to him so he thought she didn't like him. He wlaked over to the table where Y/N was with Oscar.

"Y/N, can i talk to you for a second?" Charles asked. Y/N looked at Oscar.

"I'm gonna sit with Logan." Oscar said, getting up. Charles took his seat.

"I think this is yours." Charles said, showing Y/n the bracelet.

"Are you disappointed to find out that i was the girl you danced with?" Y/N asked, too shy to look at him. Charles lift her chin with his finger so she could look in his eyes.

"Why would i be disappointed? I don't know if you noticed, amour, but I've like you since you came into my garage by accident." Charles admitted. "Were you disappointed to find out you danced with me? Is that why you rushed out so quickly?"

"No, of course not! I had to go to Woking for some McLaren business and my flight was at 3am so I had to leave to change and have time to go to the airport in Nice. I was so shocked that it was you though, like i was dancing with my celebrity crush the whole night." Y/N said.

"Good to hear I'm your celebrity crush. Let's get this bracelet on." Charles said, opening the bracelet, Y/N held out her wrist, and Charles successfully secured the bracelet on her wrist. "That's better."

"It is. Thank you for finding it, I would have died if i lost it." Y/N said.

"It's no problem. So i was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me, we could go after FP2." Charles suggests.

"I would like that a lot." Y/N said.

"Perfect. Is it alright if i kissed you? I've been imagining this moment for months." Charles said.

"Go ahead." Y/N said. Charles moved her hair behind he ear and kissed her softly. They pulled away. "That was way better than my dreams."

"You dream about kissing me, mon ange?" Charles teasingly asked.

"You imagined kissing me too." Y/N said.

"True, I'm glad i don't have to imagine it anymore though." Charles said, wrapping his arm around Y/N's shoulders as they looked over the menu.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Was it too long? I thought it was okay

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fanfic

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xpeachesncream · 10 months

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seven with you | bands drabble (jjk)

↳ drabbles masterlist

yours (ft. the bands!couple) | drabble seven: it’s time for jungkook’s solo debut and you have a few feelings about it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language, oc experiencing jealousy and insecurity, oc is very supportive but inevitably feels insecure and scared, kook being protective of his family as always, soft and sweet unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, making out, neck kisses, sprinkle of breast play, pls excuse any errors as i quickly whipped this up!

a/n: anon, this is for you! 💞 ironically this is my 7th drabble for the couple 😅 hehe coming back to continue feeding into all the thoughts, fantasies, etc etc because of seven promotions. much love, hope you enjoy! so sorry if i missed anyone on my perm taglist, its been so long! i’ll be back again soon 🥰

"So, what's hyung doing? Is he still at rehearsal?" Kai asks on the other line as you sit on the hotel bed, scrolling through your laptop.

"Yeah, he's still rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the video?" You chuckle a bit and shake your head as if your little brother can see you.

"Mm, no.. besides who's involved. He wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Interesting." Kai laughs. "You're going in blindly with everyone else."

"I sure am." You laugh. "But, it'll be good! I'll get to experience this with everyone. I know it'll be amazing no matter what."

"How come you didn't wanna be in the video?"

"It's not that, I just always told Kook that he shouldn't let me hinder his process. If he wants me involved, then he can get me involved. If not and he chooses to do his own thing, then I'll sit back and support as I always do."

"Truthfully, did you want to be in the video?"

"I mean.." You hum as you tilt your head to the side. "It would've been cute."

"Then, why did you say no?"

"Kai. I just.. didn't want him to feel obligated. Plus, to be frank, I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable. I think Kook could tell, and he didn't wanna force it after that. Or, maybe he just had a revelation and thought it’d be better off not involving me.” You joke.

"Nothing is better off without you, you know that. But, of course. I get everything else that you’re saying.”

"I trust his process, though. I always do."

"True." He laughs. "Okay, shoot. It's about to release." You keep your eyes on the laptop as the music video starts, keeping your brother on the line as he promised he'd watch with you. He was currently at the Choi residence while you ventured out to New York with Jungkook— supporting him from the sidelines for the beginning of his 'Seven' promotions.

You smile as you see Jungkook and Han So Hee together at the table, praising her for being so beautiful and flawless. You giggle every now and then at Jungkook, but then you start to fix on the little details;

The chase.

His effort— though a bit much that it makes you giggle, the effort is there.

The way he looks at her, waits for her at the end.

Holds her hand and walks along her side.

Maybe you should've said yes to being in the video in the first place, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. Though, she fits well. The vibe is immaculate.

Their dynamic? Strong.

Let's take a moment to be real: part of you felt a little jealous at her flawless execution, a little insecure observing how perfect she is. It seems a bit silly if you generally look at it since Jungkook was Jungkook. But, you couldn't help it. You still weren't used to it, even if you reminded yourself every day that your man was Jeon Jungkook.

Even if you reminded yourself of your story with Jeon Jungkook.

Kai is still on the phone, slightly pulling you back to reality with his comments about how 'good hyung looked in the video' and how 'they worked well together.' He must have been tiptoeing with his words, especially when he quickly flips the script and starts to mention the explicit version that still needed to be listened to.

You follow the lead, playing it on your computer while Kai sat on speaker phone. You can hear the audible gasps coming from his end, your own eyes widening at the switch in the lyrics, the sudden shift of the entire song.

Although you were incredibly proud of Jungkook for continuing to step out of his comfort zone, you felt yourself shrinking and shrinking—

Falling into the never-ending pit of insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, what if's, etc etc.,

It was past midnight. Why was rehearsal taking forever?

Felt like hours, and hours.

"The explicit version— I— Wow. There is a lot to unpack here. But, I can't even say that I'm surprised. Hyung pulls it off well. Wanna be like him some day. He just doesn't care what anybody thinks, and he's so cool." Kai laughs with Yeonjun in the background as they continue to listen to the explicit version with you. You hear a faint 'I don't think this version was meant for us' coming from Yeonjun, a small giggle leaving your lips at their commentary.

"Stop." You say just as Jungkook gives three light knocks on the door before tapping the key against the reader and swinging it open. "Hey, I'll call you back later okay? Jungkook just got back."

"Okay! Tell hyung congrats on the solo debut and that we really liked it!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too!" He says as he hangs up the call. Jungkook strolls in with a big smile on his face as he types away at his phone, small giggles leaving his lips as he approaches you on the bed.

"Babygirl." He smiles at and you places a quick kiss on your lips. "Was that Kai?"

"Yeah, it was." You give him a tiny, pursed smile. "He said congrats on the solo debut and that him and his friends really liked everything." Jungkook pauses before he responds because he's typing another message before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, thanks. That's my guy. Can always count on him." You let out a tiny laugh before avoiding his eyes, silently looking down at your laptop and letting your finger swipe across the trackpad. "You didn't have to wait up, love."

"Of course I did. I needed to catch it at release." You look up at him briefly. "How was rehearsal?"

"Fucking tiring, but we got through it. I'm excited for everyone to see the performances." He smiles and sits next to you. "So, what'd you think?"

"You two were great together, Kook. It was great.” You simply state.

"We were, weren't we? She was so helpful. And I felt at ease, like I didn't have to try much. She was such a natural at everything, it made things go by a lot smoother.”

"I can tell." You respond softly— probably a little too softly because Jungkook's smile slightly fades. Then, the thoughts start to swarm again just as you look at him. You quickly divert your attention by subtly biting onto your bottom lip, looking towards the hotel window when cars are honking their horns out on the street.

Of course, they were assumptions.

But of course, they were stupid, silly little thoughts stemming from your insecurity; occupying every corner of your brain, making you believe this skewed perception, this-whole-thing-that-is-a-thing-but-not-really-a-thing-because-there-aren't-any-facts-to-back-it-up—

"Hey." He pulls you out of your thoughts by taking your chin and making your eyes meet his own deep, brown orbs. "Talk to me, baby. I can hear you thinking. D-did you not like it? It's okay if not, you know? You can tell me. I value your opinion more than anything"

"What, no!" You shake your head. "I mean, no, of course I loved it. I loved every bit of it. It's amazing, and you know you always blow me away with everything you do." You cup his cheeks and let out a soft sigh. "I really do think you're amazing. I just.. maybe part of me kind of regrets not doing this with you?" He lets out a small breath before taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Are you saying that just because you saw her in the video?"

"Maybe? And, it did look easy. Everything looked so natural, especially for her. You two meshed well. I—I don’t know. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this anymore."

"Hm." He hums before tapping your thigh and bringing you onto his lap. You brush the hair out of his face while he wraps his arm around your waist, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Baby, you know when I told you about it, I could tell you weren't comfortable with the idea. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy."

"No, I know, Kook. It's not your fault. Trust me. It was beautiful and I really enjoyed it. I just.. felt a bit insecure especially since you didn't push on it. I thought you realized I wouldn’t work. She was way better and you totally saw that. You had this vision with her, and the thought made me feel a bit jealous too. I guess."

"I know this is easier said than done, but don't be. I love you." He brushes the hair away from your face this time. "You don't have to go out of your way to stand out or catch my attention. You don't have to prove anything to me, anyone. Plus, part of me felt kinda dumb for implying the idea knowing how it'd make you feel and how much attention it'd bring."

"What do you mean?"

"I realized it was probably better off this way simply because I didn't want people to paint this picture about us, or to assume our relationship was a certain way. I know there's already lots of things to be said about the video or the song itself, about our story— but at the end of the day, they don't know us like we know us and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Because even though the relationship is out there, it's not out there. Jungkook tries to keep things balanced, keeping things private as much as possible out of safety— to create boundaries between his professional and private life. He would always put you and Kai first, keeping your safety, your comfortability and your happiness a priority.

Over everything, anything.

The moment he felt your uneasiness while mentioning the video, he retracted. He never wanted to force you, or make you do something that was too out of your comfort zone. He didn't want to cross that line of putting too much out there because he was happy with how things were. It was enough, just enough. And that's all he needed.

You were happy, Kai was happy.

Why would he ever push and ruin that?

"You're right. I understand."

"I hope that helps put you at ease a bit, princess. You can always talk to me about it. There was really no other reason behind me not pushing the idea." He caresses your cheek. "Okay? Nothing else." He kisses your cheek, before your lips. He gently taps the side of your hips before adjusting you on his lap and having you straddle him full on. You wrap your arms around his neck while he stares at you in pure adoration, a smile painted across his lips before he speaks again— "You're my muse. You're in everything that I do, bits of you are sprinkled everywhere. Everywhere that I go, songs that I've created, lyrics scribbled on paper, doodles on my notebook— everything." His hands travel up your sides, giving them a tiny squeeze as he lets out a small exhale against your lips. "You will always be my muse."

"I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Don't be sorry." He chuckles a bit. "Everything you felt was valid, and I always want you to come to me about these things." You rest your forehead against his.

"I really did enjoy it, though. You always blow me away with everything you do." You kiss him just as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chases after your lips, large hands grazing your back as he holds you close to him.

"Mhm." You giggle before poking the tip of his nose. "And uh, the explicit version of the song— we listened to it right before you walked in."

"Cool, huh?" You laugh and shake your head.

"You're crazy."

"You know.." He smirks before biting onto his bottom lip. "Think there's a little bit more explaining I can do for that one. But, I think it'd be better if I showed you."

"Oh?" You watch as Jungkook tears his beanie off and tosses it aside. "I think that'd be good." He leans forward for another kiss— but this time, it's deep. Deep enough for Jungkook to take in a strong inhale through his nose, shakily letting out an exhale once he parts from your lips. He doesn't waste any time before he's kissing you again, tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it in. His fingers trace your bare skin underneath your shirt, tips digging into your sides again when he feels you slowly rock against him— his length growing incredibly hard beneath you.

"Yeah, it would be good. Right?" He lets out a small moan in between kisses, hissing when he feels your lips make their way down to his jaw, neck. His hands travel to the hem of the shirt you're wearing, slowly prying it off and tossing it aside. He continues to sit on the edge of the bed while you straddle him, your hands now fiddling with his shirt before he pulls it over his head and joins yours off to the side.

"You aren't tired?" You lay some lazy kisses along his throat, sucking and nipping gently on the surface while his fingers tug at the fabric of your panties.

"Nope, not anymore." You make your way back up to his lips, relishing in every kiss, every squeeze— every bit of Jungkook. Midway, he finally helps you out of your panties before shifting his sweats and boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

"You sure?" You tease as you waste no time wrapping your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while listening to him let out a few moans.

"Positive, baby. Need you." He mutters as he signals for you to sink down his length. You do as told, slowly, easily, sinking down until he completely fills you up and bites his bottom lip. "Just like that. Right where you should be."

"Feel so full already, Kook." He chuckles as he adjusts himself better on the bed, tattooed hands traveling up your back, caressing your body, as he showers your tits with kisses. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling around the hardened peak before pulling back with a pop. Just as you continue to roll against him, he takes the other— giving his tongue a little more freedom to explore before sucking and giving it a quick pop. He continues to shower your chest with feathery kisses, moving to your shoulders and arms while you continue to set the tempo.

"So good— fuck." He moans. "You're doing so good, baby." He tightens his grip around your hips as he continues to praise you. "Just like that." He repeats. You whine, lips grazing his as you work him, ride him— feeling every inch of Jungkook inside of you. The way that your walls engulf him— squeeze him— with every roll of your hips makes it hard for him to hold on. Though, he can tell you're slowly tipping over the edge.

It's the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Your inaudible, silent moans.

The way your body stiffens when you work against him, relishing every bit of his cock before repeating the rhythm.

And he's right, you are close. So close. Jungkook pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss before he slightly backs away to observe your face, you. He chases after your lips once more, biting onto your bottom lip and making you let out a moan that sounds like music to his ears.

The chase.

His effort.

The way he looks at you in pure adoration, easing you to the edge to see you in pure ecstasy.

Holding you close, keeping his hands on you at all times.

You continue picking up the pace a bit, causing enough friction against your heat. Jungkook calls your name, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as his hand rests on the nape of your neck— the other hand still on your hip. He starts to match your rhythm, your tone, thrusting upwards into you to fully tip you over the edge.

"Kook, I'm— I'm gonna— fuck." You whine as you become desperate, feeling the high settle into the pit of your gut. Finally, you tremble against him and moan loudly against him; hand squeezing his tattooed bicep, the other tangled in his black locks.

"That's it. Good girl." He caresses your back, continuing to thrust himself into you even as you try to come back down from your high. But now, he's there, and he's desperate for his own release. "You're my babygirl. You're everything to me. Everything." You moan loudly with him as he gives you one, two, powerful thrusts. "Everything that I do, everywhere I go. You're my muse. You're mine." He says against your ear, panting as he snaps his hips against you at a faster pace while holding you close; the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. It's not long before Jungkook is coming undone, the aftershocks still rippling through your body. His cheek is pressed against yours as he pants and lets out a few whines, your walls milking every last bit of him until the very end.

"Kook." You whisper. "I love you. I'm so proud of you and I love you." He laughs lazily as he rubs at your hips.

"I love you too, princess. Good enough explanation for that?"

"Maybe." You giggle as you hop off and scurry off to the bathroom for a quick shower.

"I mean.. we can do more—" He trails behind you and welcomes himself into the shower.

"Jungkook, you need to be up in 3 hours." Your voice echoes in the shower and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

"And?" He laughs. "Running on no sleep is how I work."

"You're too much." You giggle when Jungkook turns you around and wraps his arms around you.

"Baby, baby, baby." He says smugly. "There's more that I'll need to show you, especially for the album."

"Jungkook." You try to scold him but you squeal when he has you wrap your legs around him and presses your back against the tiled wall— the night only leading to more sweet nothings, praises and genuine love. Jungkook loving on you, just as you with him.

Because, you are his muse. You are in everything he does, bits of you sprinkled in everything.

No matter the circumstance. No matter the day, time, year.

You will always be his muse.

permanent taglist: @spideyjimin @miinoongi @thebeebi @ggukkieland @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine @codeinebelle @shesoldbutcute @jikookiekosmos @awhnamjoon @namjooningelsewhere @bunnybearrj @babycoffeefire @bri-mal @sintaethick @taejkjoons @love2luvya-blog @pb-n-juju @dianaxnyc @fan-ati--c @jungjoonie @jcsmae @favouritesblog @ppeachyttae @awseokjin @jjk1iscoming @moonchild1 @vantxx95 @genzslayer @knjeuphoria @jksjx @oogawooga222 @yoonqki @halesandy @chimchimmarie @chimsworldsstuff @persphonesorchid

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atinyniki · 6 months

Text

instant ramen

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, mentions of periods and hormonal imbalances, felix is a little mean, felix is referred to as lix, lixie, and felix.

authors note: i was bored and made a short little felix drabble ! this is also not proofread, i just had a thought and felt like posting it. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1483

(pt. 2) || (pt. 3)

it’s not everyday that felix comes home in a bad mood. he’s had just about the worst day at practice today. he couldn’t seem to be getting anything right, and often found himself zoning out and getting off track.

you’ve had a long day too. you couldn’t seem to get out of bed this morning, and woke up in the late hours of the afternoon. your entire house was a mess, and you didn’t have the energy to clean it up. to make matters worse, your period is late and it’s left you grumpy the entire week.

it’s now almost midnight, and you’re sprawled out on the couch comfortably, watching some tv. you have felix’s fuzzy blanket over you, one you both always use when watching shows together.

suddenly, you hear the familiar sound of the keys jingling at the door. the door flies open, and behind it, you see a tired felix, dark green hoodie shrouding his face.

you slowly get up from the couch and turn off the tv, careful not to trip over anything while you make your way to the door.

“why are you up so late y/n?”, his voice was low, tired, but he managed to muster a small smile.

“it’s not that late, i just wanted to wait for you.”

he slowly walked into the home, setting his bag down at the door. he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing some water to drink, when his eyes quickly dart to the dishes.

felix likes having the house clean. after living in a dorm with chaotic men who didn’t know how to clean up after themselves, it got pretty sickening. normally the house would be clean, but felix has been out recently due to his new comeback, and you’ve been busy with work. neither of you had the time to do simple tasks anymore.

seeing the dishes still dirty frustrated felix more, but he decided not to mention it and walked to the bathroom to take a quick shower. he passed by the living room, the cushions scattered messily on the floor, and then your shared bedroom. clothes had piled up in the two hampers you had, some had even fallen onto the floor.

some part in felix just snapped.

“is it really that hard to put some clothes in the wash, y/n?”

you were zoned out, but his voice brought you back to reality.

“sorry what did you say? i zoned-“

“nevermind…”

felix began to walk away, but you walked towards him, stopping him.

“lix what’s wrong?”, you looked at him, your eyes full of concern. he let out a scoff, “what’s wrong? what’s wrong is that you’ve been home the entire day and the house is still a mess.”

your eyes widen. normally, felix is understanding about these things. you only have one day off the entire week. you’ve been overworking yourself so much recently that you just needed today to be a break.

“i’m really sorry lix, i’ll just do it tomorrow”

he glares at you, a foreign look swirling in his eyes. “if you were really sorry, you would have cleaned up after yourself. you know i don’t have time for this. it would only take thirty minutes max to fix up the house a little.”

“you really need to start doing something with yourself y/n. i’m not going to be doing everything while you just sit around and watch tv all day.”

you started tearing up. you didn’t mean to, but you really wanted to cry. felix saw the tears brimming in your eyes, and he started to feel a lump growing in his throat.

you didn’t know what else to say. you looked down and heard the receding footsteps, making your way to your bedroom. the tears slowly fell from your eyes, but you didn’t dare to make a sound. your boyfriend had never spoken to you like that, and he never really got that cold.

you picked up the clothes off the floor, putting them into the hampers and making your way to the laundry room. you put them in the wash and put the hampers back in your room.

you walked to the kitchen, and started to clean the dishes. you wanted to get it done as soon as possible, so felix could have a bit of relief when he got out of the shower. his words continued to replay in your head. you’ve been so exhausted recently, you felt bad that you couldn’t do anything for him.

you put the dishes back into their respective cabinets, and figured that felix would probably be hungry when he got out. you pulled out his favorite instant ramen, put it in the pot, and began making it for him. you hoped it would cheer him up.

meanwhile, felix stays in the shower for longer than usual. he takes up the first eight minutes alone just standing in the warm stream, washing all the impurities off of his body. he stayed there for as long as he could, but for some reason, the guilt wouldn’t wash away with him.

he knew he shouldn’t have been so harsh. he didn’t mean to, he was just exhausted and already a little put off, but that’s no excuse to lash out at your girlfriend like that. after a while, he finally grabbed his shampoo, staring at the bottle for a moment before placing it back on the rack.

he reached down to grab your shampoo instead, the vanilla scent calming him down instantly. in a way, he felt closer to you. the foamy bubbles ran down his hair, and he began to wash the soap out of his hair.

he then took another one of your items, your vanilla body wash. he liked that you’d always use vanilla scented items, it was easy to associate the smell with you. suddenly, the whole bathroom smelled like vanilla, smelled like you.

felix found the smell so comforting, almost like you were right there with him. he closed his eyes, thinking about what he said to you. he knew that as soon as he got out, he’d apologize to you.

he finally got out of the shower and put some comfortable clothes on. it was almost two in the morning now, so he was expecting you to be asleep. he figured he’d apologize to you tomorrow when you wake up.

he makes his way to the bedroom, but to his surprise you aren’t there. he didn’t go looking for you, he figured you needed some space. he saw your keys on your dresser, so he knew you hadn’t left the house.

all of a sudden, he sees you at the door, a wooden rack in your hand with a bowl on top, decorated blue chopsticks on the side. you place it on his nightstand, and start playing with your thumbs, contemplating what to say next.

“i’m sorry for leaving the house a mess today, i know you didn’t want to come back home to that sight. i’ve cleaned it all up now though, and i made you some ramen. i figured you’d be hungry”, you let out a nervous chuckle.

you looked up, and your heart immediately dropped to the pit of your stomach. you thought felix would be mad at you, but you didn’t expect him to cry.

he took your hand in his and let out a shaky breath. “i’m so sorry y/n. i truly didn’t mean what i said, i was just frustrated and seeing a messy house set me off a little bit. i promise it won’t happen again, please don’t overwork yourself just for my sake.”

you quickly wrapped him in a hug, “don’t cry lix, it’s okay. you’re just tired, i know you didn’t mean it”. you gave him a quick peck on his forehead, before running your fingers through his hair.

he buried his head in your chest, inhaling the scent he’d been craving for the past hour, staining your his hoodie with his tears in the process.

“i love you lixie, im here for you. you don’t have to worry.”

he only clung onto you tighter after that, mumbling a little “i love you too” and multiple apologies into your chest. you smiled, knowing how vulnerable he was right now, and you were just happy he could trust you.

“eat your ramen now, it’s getting cold dummy”

he looked up at you and smiled, patting the area next to him. you complied, lowering yourself onto the bed and clinging onto his arm.

the ramen had gone slightly cold, but it was still enjoyable. felix felt a familiar warmth spread throughout his entire being when you wrapped your arms around him, and let himself melt into your warmth.

you have both been going through a lot recently, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you’d be okay.

#lee felix #lee felix skz #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #lee felix angst #lee felix x reader #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #lee felix scenarios #stray kids scenarios

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celtic-crossbow · 9 months

Text

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win.

Daryl was not so easily mollified.

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye.

You weren’t afraid of him.

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you.

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said.

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger.

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes.

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about.

Still, you stayed.

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now.

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced.

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you.

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?”

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue.

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot.

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow.

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his.

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll.

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family.

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor.

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety.

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you.

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile.

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?”

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned.

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring.

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse.

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away.

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.”

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose.

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides.

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance.

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you.

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.”

“Why the fuck do you even care?!”

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing.

“Ya even hafta ask?�� You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door.

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you.

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside.

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded.

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder.

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle.

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt.

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you.

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.”

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair.

“Ya do?”

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment?

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail.

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile.

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy.

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you.

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder.

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement.

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot.

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently.

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper.

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly.

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite.

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter.

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.”

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front.

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later.

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat.

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear.

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands.

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!”

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat.

“Shit!”

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen.

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark.

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt.

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion.

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.”

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone.

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.”

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!”

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg?

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up.

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.”

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again.

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long. Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep.

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse.

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave.

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered.

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail.

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?”

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?”

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away.

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him.

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance.

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was.

A confession.

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this.

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap.

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other.

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you.

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?”

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.”

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it.

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already.

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away.

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair.

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #Spotify

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hellishjoel · 3 months

Text

when you know, you know (mini chapter)

3.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog | Ko-Fi

summary: A flashback shows Tommy’s crew enjoying Christmas Eve at the diner. Frankie makes his first move with a New Year’s kiss.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), half-ass editing because I’m exhausted (I’ll reread it tomorrow and fix any errors I catch, food and alcohol consumption, reader is has no physical description, swearing, smoking, pet names (princess, asshole ((yes it’s a pet name to me))), christmas/holiday themes, a first kiss is shared that starts this whole journey.

A/N: look at these stinkin cute dividers I made for Table for Two! like shut up! I hope this mini chapter holds you guys over for a little as I also give my focus to cherry thrill and delicate with the beautiful and talented @thetriumphantpanda! also thank you to @undercoverpena for helping me dial down my brain and helping me focus on writing what I really want to write first 💛

Tommy’s Diner. One year ago. The recollection of events is slightly impaired due to alcohol consumption.

The last time it snowed on Christmas Eve in Texas was 2012. It wasn’t a normal, pretty, White Christmas. It was snow. And sleet. And pea-sized balls of hail. The winter storm began in Breckenridge, near Denver. It grew and spiraled, traveling southeast to Northern Texas.

By the time the storm saw Austin, it barely affected the city in terms of transportation. Just beautiful little white flakes, all of them unique, not one like the other. And it was dazzling.

Now, ten years later, in a mythically euphoric way, they land on the pavement in front of your sneakers. A snowflake lands on the toe of your shoe, melting quickly into the material. You let out an appreciative hum and bundle yourself tighter in your jacket, letting the size swallow you.

The diner bustles inside. It’s busy, very busy. You thought people would like to be at home on Christmas Eve, celebrating with their families before the holiday rounded out in the following twenty-four hours. But some people have traditions here.

Older couples who met here on a first date still make their anniversary appearances. There’s this older couple you see like clockwork every year, Maude and Gil.

Gil said he met Maude by accident. Took off from the lumber mill in a hurry to grab a late lunch. Maude was there on a date with another man.

But Gil said it was love at first sight, watching her push her straw around the milkshake glass and trying to seem moderately entertained by her date. Gil thought they were a total match the instant he laid eyes on her.

But Maude didn’t think the same. Not at the time, anyway.

Gil said it was fine because he knew. He just knew. Even if Maude thought their timing wasn’t right at the moment, he’d try again when it was right.

Maude said she found it endearing; how he’d chase, beg, concede, anything he had to do to get her to at least go out with him. He was persistent. And it paid off.

Now, all these years later, with kids and grandkids, they were celebrating a date night before they travel to their daughter’s house for Christmas tomorrow.

After penning in their order, you can’t help but smile at the couple.

“You two are really cute.” A sweet grin is shared between the two patrons before they turn back to you.

“When you know,” Gil pauses to take Maude’s hands across the table, wrinkles forming around old gold wedding bands, “you know.”

You usually don’t get along well with older people. Sometimes you didn’t know how to talk to them. You didn’t understand the references they made and felt awkward trying to navigate back to the menu selections. That, or sometimes they were just plain rude, but you suppose anyone at any age can be fucking rude.

In this part of Texas, some folks felt all too comfortable pushing religion or politics into your lap. And when they weren’t doing that, they were complaining about things that were out of your control.

That light is giving me a headache.

You don’t have any trees to park my car under.

The mashed potatoes aren’t mashed enough. Like, sorry guys, but that sounds like a problem between you, the line cooks, and your denture implementation specialist.

Then there were the more generous guests, those who tip well and sit in your section because they like your playful personality. Where talking doesn’t feel like a chore, and you’re so goddamn funny that they laugh at everything you say.

There’s this ongoing joke between you and these older gentlemen who come every Sunday morning for breakfast. It goes something like,

“Hey, doll, did you put the whiskey in the coffee like I asked ya to?”

You’d playfully gasp, widen your eyes, and look at them with your mouth agape before you lightly smacked their shoulders with your ticket pad. “I certainly did not, my manager would have a fit.” You’d tease, wink, and pour a little extra coffee to top them off as they snickered. They were just guys young at heart who enjoyed making you laugh.

Frankie would play cards with them on his break. Spin the chair around and have the back against the table, thick thighs straddling the seat as he nibbled on a toothpick. He always lost to them at poker but won at blackjack.

Unfortunately, someone really did put some sort of schnapps in the coffee. The staff’s coffee. You weren’t going to name names, but you definitely saw who did it. And you weren’t telling. Especially since you were enjoying your third cup.

Christmas music plays loudly in the back of the kitchen, the restaurant having been closed for the past hour. But for the love of God, Rudy couldn’t get you all to clean up the place and go home.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock! Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring! Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun, now the jingle hop has begun!” The entire kitchen sings, all terribly off-tune, but it makes it all the funnier.

You double over in laughter as Carla, your five-foot-tall manager attempts to put a Santa hat on Frankie’s head. He simply crosses his arms and shakes his head, unwilling to bend down and let her put the stupid thing on already.

Finally, with a roll of his eyes, he kneels down and takes the red Santa hat like a crown to a king.

“You’re only fueling his ego!” You boo, Carla walking over and cheering her cup of coffee with yours.

The kitchen is noisy after hours.

All the crew has funneled to the back, sitting on countertops as Lou mops the floor and tells people to stay out of his way. Water sprays from multiple sink faucets as the dishwashers clean at a leisurely pace, too busy singing a rendition of whatever Christmas song played next off the radio.

The old dishwasher hums along as it cleans. People talk or sing over each other, and it’s just loud. You’d be overstimulated if it wasn’t for the spiked coffee in your hand.

“You put this booze in here, didn’t you?” You whisper to Carla as she circles back to your little corner of the counter, looking straight ahead as if she didn’t hear you. She’s as silent as a rock, which you can respect.

“Alright, some manager you are.”

She snickers at that, playfully slaps your thigh with the back of her hand, and watches the line cooks and busboys lazily scrub pots, pans, and plates, too busy howling out what they think are the correct lyrics to the classic Mariah Carey song playing.

“Frankie!” Carla growls, her actual manager tone coming out now. Even Rudy shudders at the lion’s roar.

Frankie looks up, wide-eyed like a kid about to get freshly yelled at. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and a lighter one centimeter away, finger on the trigger ready to light it.

“Go outside and smoke that, you know I can’t come home smelling like cigarette smoke! My kids will get mad at me. Shoo! Shoo!” She ushers with her hands, Frankie smirking against the cig and holding his hands up in playful defense.

“Sorry Mama Bear, I’ll take it outside.”

Carla playfully scoffs as he ducks down to kiss her cheek, giving him a roll of her eyes in return.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours and he nudges his thumb into the pack of cigarettes, one inching out towards you.

“Come on, princess. Let’s go.”

You purse your lips to try and stop the smile, but you can’t help it. You push yourself off the counter and join him outside, the kitchen door closing behind you with a whoosh.

It’s colder outside now, and the snowflakes fall faster but still melt as soon as they hit the pavement.

You walk with Frankie to the loading dock. Tommy’s doesn’t have an actual loading dock, but it has an attached storage garage that houses old equipment. The concrete has questionable stains of varying colors and sizes. A game you and Frankie play is coming up with dramatic stories for each one.

The large maroon puddle was definitely a murder covered up by a secret crime syndicate. The dark green dribbles every few inches are from a lizard-like monster, trailing its way through the garage where its buried itself under the concrete until it’s resurrection day in one thousand years. Or so they say.

Frankie pulls a blue tarp off an old brown leather couch, both of you falling into it with a heavy sigh.

Tonight was exhausting. The holidays in general were.

“You goin’ anywhere for Christmas?” Frankie asks as you hold out your hand for the cigarette, but he lifts it to your lips instead.

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you lean in and take the cigarette obediently, both of Frankie’s hands coming up as one flicks the lighter and the other shields the snowy breeze.

The nicotine swirls down your throat and chills your chest, a nice contrast between the warmth the alcohol has spread through your tummy. Your eyes magnetize to the pretty orange blaze glittering at the end of the cigarette.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, smoke billowing through the air and then into nothingness. “I took off from Christmas to New Year’s, so I’ll be at home with family. You?”

Frankie makes a noncommittal noise, distracted by lighting his cigarette. He flicks the spark wheel multiple times, but the flame only grows smaller and smaller. To Frankie’s relief, it catches. He takes the dead lighter, damn near out of juice, and makes a long chuck to the dumpsters where it clatters deep inside. Dink-bong.

“I’ll be here- wait, until New Year’s?” Frankie asks in disappointment, head tilting affectionately like a dog’s.

You’re a bit shocked by the dramatic reaction, eyes scanning over him.

“Uh.. yeah. Why?”

He’s silent for a bit, eyes avoiding yours before he looks out beyond the freeway and into the void. You shrug it off and lift the cigarette to your lips again. If Frankie wants to say something, he will.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” You nod your head towards the snow and Frankie agrees as he looks up at the sky with a fond little smile.

“So, no New Year’s at Tommy’s for you this year, huh?” He circles back, and you’re all too curious.

“Why do you care so much if I’m here on New Year’s or not?” Your demeanor is playful, but he’s dancing around the subject and you’d wish he’d just come out and say it.

But he wanes on your temper and plays oblivious. “Was that Maude and Gil out there earlier?”

You roll your eyes and shuffle closer to him on the couch. Frankie does the same. “Yeah. I wish they came here more than just on Christmas Eve. They’re so refreshing. They’re older, but cool.”

Frankie nods and lets the calm settle between you both.

“Before Tommy retired and moved to Florida... Or ran and hid from his bookie due to his crippling gambling addiction, he said that he was long-time friends with Maude and Gil. They’ve been coming here for like… fifty years.”

You scoff in disbelief and glance over to him. “Who would want to come to this dump for fifty years?”

Frankie shrugs and smiles, leaning into your side as you lay your head on his shoulder. He’s warm.

“I guess it’s all about perspective. We see Tommy’s as clock in, clock out. Run around until our feet hurt and work until we’re sweating pigs. The customers, people like Maude and Gil, they see this place as where their lives began.” Frankie’s eyes look beautifully starstruck in this moment. “Where they started, and where they reminisce. Where it all began. It’s perspective, princess.”

And just like that, he crashes the moment. Again.

With a roll of your eyes, you sit up properly, shoulders shuddering inward from the cold. You shove off his hand that has somehow gone below the radar on your thigh, crossing your leg over the other and tugging down the skirt of your uniform.

“You gotta stop fucking calling me that incessant nickname, asshole”

Frankie scoffs around the exhale of his cigarette. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Oh, I could definitely make you, but where’s the fun in that, Francisco?” You smirk in his direction, but something shifts.

His lips part but he’s at a loss for words, and his eyes dance over your face like he’s trying to memorize each pretty eyelash and the slope of your cheekbones.

A weird feeling of charged energy zigzags back and forth between your bodies, stitching you closer together. Where the flirting goes a little too far and something could happen. It could keep going, like a snowball effect, both of you unwilling to stand down to the other. How far could things go? How far would you let them go?

His eyes look incredibly deep brown in the night, but they pour into you all the same. The red bandana tied around his forehead keeps his unruly dark curls out of his eyes as the wind makes the strands flutter. He’s overwhelmingly handsome. You can feel your breath change, but you don’t want him to notice how your chest falls shallow under his eyeline.

His husky voice breaks the pretty silence.

“If you’re not here for New Year’s, then how are you supposed to be my New Year’s kiss?”

An unbeatable smile breaks out across your face, feeling your stomach summersault. Oh, Frankie.

You playfully shrug as you look beyond the loading dock at the snow that amounts to nothing, still melting upon greeting the asphalt.

“Well. Sounds to me like you’re kissing the back of your hand on New Year’s. Just the same as last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.”

“I’d rather kiss your ass, princess.”

“Oh, I bet you would.” You both snicker and shake your heads. He’s still staring all too longingly.

“Come on.” He speaks softer now. His head tilts so it’s closer to your level. “Lemme kiss you.” His head is hanging to the side, and he speaks with need. His tongue lines his lips and your breath staggers again.

Your and Frankie’s cigarettes burn with abandonment, dangling between fingers settled in your respective laps.

Why can’t a fire break out in the kitchen right now? It would be convenient. Anything to get Frankie from getting too close. Not that you wouldn’t mind kissing him, you just fear that you’d like it a little too much. And he would like it too. What if things changed?

All you can think to do is try to lighten the mood with a little teasing because it feels all too serious right now.

“You don’t wanna kiss me.”

Frankie scoffs and suckles on his cigarette again like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. “I would, I really would.”

Fuck, it’s not working. “What if it’s weird? We work together.”

“It won’t be.”

“How do you know?” You tease.

“I just know.”

“Okay, but how do you know.” Frankie shrugs nonchalantly like it’s no big deal. “When you know, you know.”

Surprise lines around your wide eyes, recognizing the all too familiar sentiment shared by Maude and Gil. The sentence you didn’t realize had so much importance to you until Frankie uttered the same words.

“I- what did you say?” You ask, surely he didn’t just share the same expression. Or spare the same meaning.

A cocky smirk tilts the right side of his mouth upwards. “When you know, you know.” He repeats unphased, eyes twinkling all too sweetly as he looks at you like you’re a wonder.

It’s just one kiss. Nothing else will happen. You wouldn’t let it.

Before you can overthink any further, before you can decline, his large palm casts itself over your cheek, thumb skimming across the silky flesh. Warmth floods your body, and it feels like time has frozen. The snow falls silently around you both, a soft whisper of the wind hissing through the air.

“This alright?” He whispers. You feel so caught off guard, unable to respond with words, just a lousy excuse of a nod.

The heel of his palm guides your jawline upward, lips mutually parting as you take each other in. Anticipation fills the air, fuels the rapid beat slamming around in your chest and nudging itself up in your throat.

Your lips meet, warm and plush. You’re sure he’s not this gentle all the time, but he is in this moment. It’s tender and delicate, slowly taking you all in as if this is the last time he’ll ever get this chance. It probably will be. The bite of each other’s cigarettes tangle in your mouths.

It’s unclear who deepens the kiss first, but there’s more of a desperation to this part. Both of his palms are on your cheeks now, bodies inching closer as your smaller palms fist lightly at the neck of his dingy white tee. You’re keeping him close, fuck, it’s so undeniable.

The intensity that follows highlights a level of emotion you had far long ago locked away. Shoved into a locked crate and stored in secret under your bed. You didn’t like those feelings, they were cute looking from afar, but up close, they were monstrous. But you can’t deny you enjoy the movement of his lips against yours, both of you melting into a sweet rhythm that’s lined with desire.

His tongue explores your mouth. Your fingers dance up the dip of his neck and sink into the warm flesh. He must like the feeling of your skin on his because he lets out a low hum of appreciation. The charged energy you felt before was now flooded, running on all cylinders to keep up with the feelings you and Frankie were exploring for the first time.

It’s heated and flickers like his dead lighter. The bond grows deeper at this newfound connection, much different than a simple peck on the lips for a New Year’s kiss.

It feels like it lasts forever but it’s gone so soon. You find yourself pulling away first, despite it taking all of you to do so. Frankie’s head naturally follows your own, wanting more, drunk off the taste. His lips brush yours again as you laugh.

Both of you grin before you can stop yourselves.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling away finally as warmth kisses the apples of his cheeks. His thumb lines his lower lip like he wants to remember the electricity and the pattern of your kiss. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- fine.” You’re all flustered, both of you shifting farther away on the couch.

“I got carried away,”

“Yeah. You did.” Lie.

“I liked it.”

“I know you did, Francisco.” The tight-lipped grin on your lips won’t disappear. But you could.

Everything that follows is muddled sentences and interjections on both your parts. You start.

“I’m gonna head back inside. Carla probably needs some help-”

“Yeah-”

“Are you-”

“Yeah, I’ll stay out here for a few more.”

“Okay.”

You’re both nodding and you’re scrabbling for balance as your feet pace on shaky ground. You nudge your jacket tighter around your body as you drop the cigarette and smother it with the toe of your shoe.

A shaky breath leaves you as you walk away and smooth out your uniform, thankful to have your back to him as you walk off and return to the kitchen’s back door. Or else he might see you smiling sheepishly.

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

Text

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

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faux-ecrivain · 5 months

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Welcome

Welcome, My Dearest Darlings, please enjoy your stay. This is a placeholder post, tomorrow I shall post something official. There will be rules for this blog, but I’m sure you’re big enough to handle them. Most of my posts will be yandere headcannons, stories, fanfics or blurbs. I can’t promise five star posting, but I can promise yandere that are obsessed with you! Kisses! 💋💋

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[Fun Facts About Me]

I don’t like making grammatical errors, they are irritating and embarrassing (in my opinion). However, mistakes are part of life and I have to learn to how to move on. That said; if you do see some grammar mistakes please let me no and I’ll try to fix it. (Ugh, it’s embarrassing that I was born, and live in, Mississippi yet I make numerous grammatical errors. I’m so bad, most of the time, at English, it’s hilarious.)

I have a tendency to ramble, over explain and procrastinate. I can also appear quite pushy, this is probably because of some deep seated worry that I haven’t yet uncovered.

I love mysteries, they are my favorite genre and I especially love the femme fatale mysteries or mysteries with a female lead.(IE; Miss. Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, Murder She Wrote and there’s more but my mind is blank right now.)

I have a soft spot for cute fuzzy cats and I like taking photos of scenery that I believe to be beautiful.

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bitchyglitterfox · 1 year

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Angel - Pietro Maximoff x F!Powered!Reader

Warnings: fix it fic where Pietro doesn't die at the end of Age of Ultron! Medical jargon is probably incorrect.

A/n: Anyway this is for a friend of mine who asked where Wanda's brother's fics were and why I haven't written any. Heres to you 🫡

All grammatical errors are my own bc I don't have beta readers.

...

“Male, Caucasian, approximately 22-24 years of age, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, abdomen and arms. His breathing is labored and blood pressure low.” One of my nurses says as we wheel this unknown man into the O.R.

“Alright! We need gauze, bowls and scalpels and blood! GO! GO! GO!” I yell at my team trying to save this young man’s life. I may be only 20 and one of the youngest surgeons in the world but my team knows I care about them and only yell when it’s something crucial.

“Here ma’am, everything you need.” Maria, my head nurse tells me while I walk into the room gloved and masked.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, we are going to save this man’s life.” I say looking around the sterile room.

*6 hours later*

“Alright we did it, great job guys. Move him over to an empty recovery room and let them know their friend is fine.” I say walking out. I go and stand near the coffee machine and buy myself a cup.

“So Doc, how's the kid?” I look up and see an old friend.

“Well, Stark, how many times have I told you not to call me Doc? Reminds me of Bugs Bunny, and he’s doing fine. We managed to save him, just barely. He lost a lot of blood, had multiple breaks, what the hell were you guys fighting?!”

“Uh robots, and besides if you had come along with us like I keep suggesting and using those wonderful powers you have-“ I cut him off before he can even finish his thought.

“Stark I’ve told you before, I’m not properly trained for combat, I’m just a doctor, and I’ll tell you what I’ll go and heal all his wounds right now, that way you’ll have him back.” I say sipping the black hot liquid.

“And I told you (y/n) there’s more out there than just shitty coffee and white walls. Listen I'll pitch the idea to Fury to have you move to the compound and become an avenger, you could help a whole lot more people if you agreed” He says as he walks back down the hallway and out the door.

I threw the cup of coffee away and walked into Pietro’s room. I learned of his name after the operation. He honestly looks very peaceful just lying there sleeping. I go and close the blinds and shut and lock the door. I don't need anyone not authorized to know about my powers to come stumbling in the room.

I take off my glove and remove his blanket from his chest; I take a deep breath and lay my hands on his chest. A white light filling up the room along with the slight hum of the machines connected to him.

When I finish he begins to slowly open his eyes. “Is that an Angel I see? A beautiful angel?”

I blush slightly “No Mr. Maximoff, I can assure you that I am no Angel. I am your Doctor; my name is (y/n) (l/n).”

“So I do have an angel in front of me because only an angel would have such a beautiful name as that.” He said smiling.

“Well it’s good to see you are getting back to normal brother” a female voice came from the door.

“Well that is my que to go, I’ll be checking back on you tomorrow and if everything looks good, you should be free to go within the next few days” I say sliding out of the door.

“She seems nice” I hear his sister say as I walk back to my office. Wait, how’d she unlock the door? Did she see me use my powers? All these questions went on swimming through my head.

******

“Good morning Mr. Maximoff, how are you feeling?” I asked while walking into his hospital room, looking at his medical charts “are you eating alright?”

“Good, I've gotten my strength back and maybe that means my speed came back?” he says, getting up in his bed.

“Wow there mr maximoff you've only just started healing and you only recently had surgery. It might take some time for your speed to get back.” I say while gently lying him back down on the bed.

“Alright but promise me once we're out of here and I'm no longer your patient we will hang out and be friends yes?” he says while smiling the dorkiest of smiles I've ever seen.

“Yes, we are already friends but when you get released we can hang out” I say while grabbing my clipboard and walking back out of the room and closing the door. I lean against the wall outside and take a deep breath, wow i can't be falling for my patient but he wont be my patient next week, no next week he’ll be my teammate.

Just before walking into his room this morning I had gotten a call from Stark informing me I would become an official member of the team, healing them whenever necessary as well as healing those injured during missions.

This will surely be a fun experience especially when I have a handsome man like Pietro on my team.

#bitchyglitterfox writes #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel studios #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #fix it fic #pietro maximoff imagine #age of ultron #maximoff twins

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myobmaya · 1 year

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maya i am so so sad today, can you pretty please give me something small that will break me then put me together? i love you <3

hi love, I hope you’re okay. Sorry it took me a day for me to get this out. It’s not almost midnight my time so i apologize for any errors I’ll get to them sometime later. I’m tired lol. But i hope everything is okay, my dear. if you need anything lmk babes 🖤

Hold On | Eddie Munson

Eddie learns some devastating news about one of the most important people in his life

TW: Angst. Medical diagnosis, mentions of blood, talks of death, sad Eddie :(

The way he came home quiet with a blank look on his face told you something went wrong today. The big kiss and dramatic welcoming home he normally gave was replaced with a small “hey” followed by him going to the refrigerator for a beer. He didn’t get a chance to grab a bottle before you were right behind him, concern and worry evident in your voice as you asked him what was wrong.

His simple reply of “nothing” quickly turned into a screaming match that resulted in the silence that now consumed the both of you.

Eddie was never one to snap at you for small things. But, everything about him was passionate, arguing with you didn’t fall short. He was already upset and needed time to process what he just learned. Yet, he didn’t know how to properly communicate that to you. So the moment he snapped at you, you snapped right back at him with full defense. After a few remarks were yelled, you walked away with the slam on the bedroom door with tears in your eyes.

He knew he should have gone after you. It wasn’t your fault. But he needed to figure out his emotions before bringing anymore onto you. So, Eddie simply grabbed the beer from the refrigerator, finished it off with a few swings, gave you an hour to yourself then followed to the bedroom.

You were already on your side of the bed. Pajamas on completed with wet cheeks. He looked at you as soon as you glanced up at him opening the door. Neither one of you acknowledging each other verbally. He walked back out to shower, only throwing on a pair of sweatpants before coming back to climb into bed next to you.

You turned to face him, ready to talk about what happened. To see what happened and fix the problem.

He turned to face the wall.

You now stare at his bare back. The tattoos running from his chest to the muscles of his shoulders mock you as you itch to trace them with your fingers. A habit you’ve grown to do after learning his body.

His hands rest under the pillow holding his head. His breathing is heard alerting you that’s he’s not asleep either. The fight is playing on repeat in both of your heads but neither of you know what to say.

He knows he shouldn’t have started a fight. You were only concerned for him. The sniffles he hears from you guilts him, but he doesn’t know how to tell you what caused him to come home so distraught. He didn’t mean to get upset with you when you only came to comfort him.

The conversation he had with Wayne holds heavy in his heart.

The guilt of fighting instead of talking with you about it makes it harder to process.

But he knows he has to make it right with you. The cruel reminder that tomorrow is never promised tells him that every moment counts. He takes a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out.

He breaks the silence with your name.

Your name falls softly from his lips. It’s so quiet that you ask yourself if you really heard him, but when he whispers your it again your suspicious are confirmed.

“Yeah?” You whisper back. He doesn’t move, still laying on his side facing away from you.

Eddie swallows, glad you’re still awake. Grateful you’re acknowledging him after his behavior. He knows what he has to say. He knows he has to tell you why he was so upset.

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything Not because you have nothing to say, but because you know he’s holding back. The way his confident attitude has been replaced by unsureness tells you that you need to let him work through his head. A few moments pass before he clears his throat.

You stay still as he slowly turns over and rolls onto his back. His clasp together and rest on his tummy. You watch as Eddie closes his eyes. He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before he lets it out. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling. You keep your eyes on him.

“Wayne had me come over after work. Said he finally got sent home after his boss got him coughing up some blood. Said the doctor ran some tests,” Eddie stops himself. You feel like your blood has ran cold and tears spring to your eyes again, this time for the older Munson you’ve grown to love like family.

Guilt plunges through you thinking about how Eddie must have felt hearing that only to come home to an argument. The fear of the unknown he feels with his uncle’s health is quickly sympathized and all traces of anger is melted. The moonlight shining in through the window reflect over his glazed over eyes.

Eddie braces himself for what he’s about to say. If he says it out loud it makes it real. And if it’s real, it’s a reality Eddie isn’t ready to face.

You reach your hand over and hold onto his clasped ones. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence for you to fill in the blanks. The signs have been there. The tears form in the back of your eyes as you know he has the confirmation that’s been on his mind. Since you first found Wayne passed out in his trailer a month ago and Eddie found the blood covered tissues in the bathroom.

Eddie goes to tell you what the diagnosis came back as but instead his biggest fear is spoken out loud.

“I’m going to lose him,” Eddie’s voice breaks.

You instantly sit up, bringing him into you. Arms pull him up and he crashes his head into your neck. He doesn’t fight you or pull away. He breaks down. You wrap your arms around his back and he clings onto you as his tears begin to stain your shirt. You don’t care at all as you hold him. Sobs fall from him and you do your best to keep your own tears at bay.

You needed to be strong for him. He was always strong for you and now it was your turn to be his strength.

A hand runs through his hair as you try your best to soothe him. “He’s going to be okay, Eddie. It’s Wayne. The man has defied life itself. Nothing can stop him,” you don’t know if your words are enough to console him but you believe them as you speak them.

Wayne Munson was one of the strongest men you knew. He would pull through from this. He just had too.

You only hold onto him tighter. Reassuring him that his uncle will be okay even if it would be for a little bit. Eddie pulls back to wipe his eyes but the tears quickly fall back. “I can’t lose him. I’ve lost my parents. I can’t lose him too.” His breathing is starting to become erratic and you know you need to pull him back from the ledge before he goes into a panic attack.

Before he can even talk himself from pulling away from you, you hold his face in between your hands. His cheeks are cold and stain your hands with his tears but you don’t care. The devastation on his face is enough to wish you had the cure for every disease. Anything to take away his pain.

But you don’t have the cure.

You can’t take away the pain he feels about the news of the only parental figure in his life.

So instead you swipe your thumbs under his eyes and kiss him for a moment to break the unregulated breathing pattern. He stares at you with wide eyes.

“I need you to breath in with me, okay?” You take a deep breath in and wait for him to follow you. He lets out a shaky breath and sucks it back in. “Good, now breath out,” you exhale and watch as he does the same.

You have him breath with you a few more times until his breathing is no longer a sign of distress. His eyes never leave yours, complete trust behind them as you nod at him to silently say I’m right here for you. You reposition yourself and throw your legs over his thighs before wrapping your arms around his neck, Eddie instantly wrapping his around your back. He tucks his face back into your neck and tells you that he’s okay now.

Thirty seconds pass before he’s crying again. You only hold him once more.

Neither one of you pull away from each other. Eddie and you stay wrapped up in other until his sobs turn into sniffles and the sniffles turn back into silence. His face stay in between your neck and shoulder where you keep him there. Safe from the world until you no longer can do so.

It’s not until you hear soft snores coming from him when you realize he’s asleep. Carefully, you turn and kiss the side of his temple before attempting to ease him down to the mattress. It’s unsuccessful as he jolts awake, you quickly telling him you only want to lay down. He only nods as you climb off of him and allow him to reposition one last time. Eddie’s eyes are red and his cheeks are blotchy but you only smile at him as he gets on his back. He gently pulls you down next to him.

You lay your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as his hand traces circles on your back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” Eddie’s voice is raspy. You continue to listen to the rhythm of his heart.

“He’s strong, Eddie,” you take a deep breath. “But you have to be stronger for him. He’s always been there for you. Now it’s your turn.”

Eddie thinks about your words. He knows you’re right. But, he struggles to accept it. Memories of Wayne always putting him first play in his mind as he continues to mindlessly trace letters and shapes onto your back. The times Wayne would stay up all night worried about a sick Eddie and go to work in the morning. The way he’d offer Eddie homework help even when he was tired from a long shift makes the young Munson smile. Wayne was always so selfless, taking care of a child that wasn’t even his.

You fall asleep listening to Eddie’s heartbeat while he stays up thinking about how he can return the favor to Wayne. If there’s one thing his uncle taught him, it was being there for the ones you loved. Eddie Looks down at your sleeping frame as your words echo in his mind. He nods before kissing the back of your head happy to have you in his life. “Yeah, Wayne is strong. But it’s my turn to be stronger for him.”

——

In the morning Eddie is the first to wake up. He carefully gets out of bed, slipping his pillow in between your arms to keep you asleep. His mind is still reeling from the news of yesterday but it only fuels him to shower and get ready. He scribbles a messy note and leaves it on the counter letting you know where he’s off to and locks up the front door before taking off.

It’s a quarter after eight in the morning when he arrives to the trailer park. Wayne’s already up sipping on a fresh cup of black coffee when Eddie knocks on his front door. Wayne opens the door and takes note of the sunglasses hiding Eddie’s puffy eyes.

Eddie gives him a big grin as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “What? You thought you were doing this alone?”

Wayne instantly feels a weight on his chest and his eyes furrow together. The thought of having to go through his treatment by himself was something he braced himself for. He didn’t want the pressure of it being on his nephew so it was a last sacrifice he was willing to make. A sacrifice he no longer had to make with Eddie by his side now.

“C’mon old man. I heard music is great for the soul. I have a whole tape you can listen to while you get your treatment.” Eddie pulls out the casket tape tossing it to his uncle. Wayne catches it with a smile on his face. Eddie only smiles back before he throws Wayne a nod. “Now hurry up. I have another mixtape I’m working on for the next session.”

Wayne rolls his eyes with an exaggerated “Alright!” Eddie only laughs knowing his uncle hates being rushed. The two men make their way over to Eddie’s vehicle and get in. Eddie starts the car up and before he pulls out of the driveway, Wayne stops him.

“Thank you, Eddie. You don’t have to do this.”

Eddie gives his uncle a smile reaching over to pat his shoulder. Your words of encouragement play on repeat in his head and he finally starts to believe them.

“You’re strong, Uncle Wayne. We’re going to get through this.”

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic

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rosasolos · 1 year

Text

ASSISTANT / A.JOLIE

pairing .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ angelina x fem!reader

summary .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ you are angelina’s assistant and after she finished her interview you guys go back to hers and something happens between you two.

warnings .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ nsfw/smut, cursing, age gap ( you are 39 angie is 47 )

A/N .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ sorry for any grammar errors

“So angelina what is you’re favorite childhood memory?” the interviewer says while looking at angelina. “Well when i was around 11 me and my neighbor used to go to this playground and climb the monkey bars.” angelina says while smiling at the camera, “well this has been very fun angelina i hope you have an amazing day.” the interviewer says while turning her head to look at angie. “this was amazing thank you so much for having me bye.” angelina says while getting up from her chair. “Ms jolie, the limo will be here in 5!” you say while looking as jolie’s calendar, “okay thank you y/n.” angie says while closing her water bottle lid.

“The limo is here ms jolie would you like me to take you’re bag?” you say while looking at angelina waiting for a response, “Yes thank you say much y/n.” “Okay so today at 3 you have a late lunch with dior and tomorrow you have a massage then your Vogue photoshoot then you have a dinner with ms portman.” “Thanks y/n i don’t know what i would do if you weren’t here!” Angelina says while looking at you’re clipboard. “Excuse me miss we are here.” The driver says while looking back at the both of you, “Oh perfect, here let me get the door.” You say to angie while opening her you’re door then hers.

You get Angelina’s keys out of her purse and unlock the door. “Okay we should probably go to your closet and try on those outfits that Chanel sent.” You say while looking at Angelina for approval “perfect let me just go grab a energy smoothie and I’ll meet you up there.” Angelina says while making her way to the kitchen.

You go upstairs and turn the knob of angelina’s walk in closet, you place her purse and shopping bags from earlier today. You grab the box’s chanel sent while you hear the door creak. “Hello, y/n you in here?” angelina says while opening the closet door. “Yep im in here i opened the box’s.” you say loudly while turning you’re head back for a sec.

Angie opens the door fully and taps you’re shoulder “oh my goodness they are so gorgeous I’m dying!” angie says in a joyful tone “yes they are very beautiful ms jolie.” you say while looking at some necklaces that they also sent, “How many times have I told you to not call me ms jolie just call me angelina y/n” “I’m sorry ms jolie crap i mean angelina.” you say in a nervous tone of voice “it’s fine y/n” Angelina says while putting her head in you’re shoulder, you start to blush and angelina sees you blushing but you quickly turn away and hopes she thinks nothing about it.

“we’re you blushing y/n?!” Angelina says in a teasingly tone. “uh..uh no” you say it a very nervous tone, angelina pulls you in and kisses you “I’m sorry y/n i don’t know what i was thinking” angelina says while opening the door to leave “no wait I liked it!” you say while pulling angelina back inside by her hand.

You pull her c in and you start to kiss angelina, slowly adding your tongue to the kiss. You move you around her back. “wow y/n i didn’t know you were a good kisser!” angelina says. angelina continues making out with you and then lifts you up on to her closet island.

angelina slowly slides her hand into your skirt, and starts massaging your inner thigh *you slighty moan* “do you like that?” Angelina says while continuing to massage your inner thigh.

you look at your watch its 2:40 “uhm-ms jolie uh-uhm *you moan slightly* its 2:40 *you moan loud* you have your lunch soon” you say while Angelina keeps pleasuring you. “shit we should stop then” Angelina says .

you both stop and fix your selves up and you help Angelina get ready.

That’s it i know i haven’t posted in a bit sorry

#smut #angelina jolie fluff #angelina jolie x female reader #angelina jolie x reader #angelina jolie smut #angelina jolie

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flock-talk · 9 months

Text

Okay you guys are getting the first release of the file!

It’s a Google doc so you don’t have to download anything, you can print it directly from your browser. I’ve added a comment to the first page with the printing directions so you can ensure it prints out right the first time as well as assembly instructions.

And if you notice any issues with the document please let me know so I can fix them!

If anyone’s uncomfortable with clicking links just let me know and I can just post screen shots of each page for you instead. This is just more labour intensive for you because you then have to make sure all the pages are sized and lined up correctly for printing!

I’ll be making a reel tomorrow showing the steps of putting it together for anyone who needs a more visual aid on the process.

And as the general disclaimer here: I’m not a vet, please review the booklet and use your own discretion, edit it and add in your own info as you see fit. I did my best to gather information from reputable sources as much as I could but there is always the potential for me to have grabbed something wrong. So please double check it, ask your vet, (and if there is a major error please let me know so I can fix it!!!)

This is a guide to help you stay focused and act quickly to help stabilize your bird in an emergency scenario. Calling your vet should be a top priority so they can begin giving you accurate instructions over the phone asap.

#first aid #booklet #pamphlet #oh if you need larger font you can change that when you go to print!#just up the scale over 100% and it’ll make everything bigger !#edit: had to update the link they pages were out of order!

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ciaoteamo · 2 years

Text

☎️ Telephone ☎️

pairings: corky x f!reader

summary: Corky and (Y/N) are phone buddies that plan to hang for the first time.

part II

warnings: probably spelling errors

╔═════════☆♡☆ ═════════╗

further warnings: none

“i’m just saying, pineapples belong on pizza, it’s for the finest of people” You hear Corky chuckle through the phone.

“you’re saying that you’re one of the finest people?“ You tease.

“…what if i were? would you stop making excuses to not let me over?” She teased back.

“you know my reasoning… plus i have nothing fun over here” You almost pout as you look around your boring home.

“we can always improvise, i’m lonely (Y/N)” She pleads. You giggle at her behavior and roll your eyes.

“well then… have any plans for tomorrow?” You ask.

“none whatsoever” She answers.

“well be here at around… 9. i should be off by then” You reply.

“well then…” Her sentence halted as she yawned. “it’s a date”

“okay, goodnight sleepyhead” You joke.

“goodnight, (Y/N)” She says and you hang up. You tuck yourself into bed, barely able to calm your nerves about what was to come tomorrow. Your first hangout with your crush.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

You rush into your apartment with your arms full of groceries, almost dropping them a few times. You reach your small kitchen island and place the heavy bags down with a sigh. Here goes nothing.

HOURS LATER

A knock is heard at your front door just as your timer goes off for the food. You hurriedly open the oven door and grab the heavy tray of food with your mitts.

You rush towards the door and take a deep breath to calm your nerves. “it’ll be fine” You say quietly. You open the door to reveal Corky leaned up against the door frame, flowers in hand.

“good afternoon, beautiful” She grins.

“good afternoon, are these for me?” You say, shifting your weight onto one leg.

“nah, i just like to carry roses around” She replies.

“okay smart ass” You both laugh and she hold the bouquet out for you.

“may i?” She asks, glancing behind you. You hum and step to the side, closing the door as she walks in.

“where do you want these?” She asks, slowly walking as she looks around your humble home.

“you can sit them on the table, i’ll put them in a vase later” You answer.

You head back towards the kitchen and peel back the aluminum that covered your famous lasagna. You’ve gotten a lot of complements for it over the years so of course it would be your go-to.

“i hope you like lasagna” You say aloud before grabbing two plates from your cabinet.

“not a big fan, actually, but maybe yours is different” You hear from behind. You turn ti see her walking towards you, her leather jacket she wore at the door, now gone. Allowing you to see her tattoos and slim body.

You fix the plates for the two of you and lead her to the dining table. “want a drink?” You ask as she sits down.

“….have any beer?” She asks.

“of course” You grin and shake your head.

“what?” She asks.

“oh nothing… nothing” You chuckle. You grab her a beer and yourself a water as you head back out. The two of you reminisced on conversations you’ve had on the phone, resulting in small breaks of laughter and/ or embarrassment.

Eventually, the room got quiet aside from the clanking and eating noises that occurred.

“thanks for the flowers, they’re really pretty” You say.

“oh yeah! i came across them after work” She says.

“how is work?” You ask.

“pretty good, nothing to really complain about… it’s simple. what about you?”

“only thing i can complain about is the lack of flexibility, i can hardly go anywhere fun, you know?” You pick around at your food with your fork, no longer feeling hungry.

“we can always bring the fun to us” Corky retorts. You look up from your plate to find her looking at you with a devious smile.

“you’re bad” You laugh.

“well, bad girls have all the fun” She shrugs. “this lasagna is absolutely amazing by the way. the last time i had it, it tasted like shit” Corky says with the straightest face ever.

The fact that you could tell that she was being serious made your cheeks tingle as you became bashful. “stop” You look away before going to collect the china.

“i’m serious, i usually hate this stuff” She raises her eyebrows.

“well i’m glad i made it enjoyable, i have strawberry shortcake in the fridge for dessert if you would like a slice?”

“did you make that too?” She asks.

“nope, not that much of a cook” You joke. You toss the dishes int he sink and pull out the cake. You grab two more plates from your cabinet and take a knife to the table.

“looks good” Corky states. You hum in agreement and pop the top off.

“so…” You start as you cut her a slice. “you mentioned bringing the fun earlier. care to give a few examples? it gets boring pretty quickly” You say.

“sure, there’s plenty to do… you can paint, work out, do some yoga, make a meal you’ve never made, call a friend, binge movies, play games..” She lists.

“well, what do you usually do?”

“i mainly go out to bars or eat at restaurants “

“i see… did you want to do any of the things you listed tonight?” You speak before taking in a forkful of cake.

“i say watch a movie and play a game” She finished her cake.

“i don’t have any games though, it never crossed my mind to grab any” You admit. Plus you’re here alone all the time, why would you need a game.

“that’s okay, there’s verbal games” She gets up and takes the cake into the living room, sitting in on your coffee table. You open up an entertainment center drawer and pull out your collection of movies.

“which one?” You ask as you present her the bin. She digs through a bit before quickly lifting one from the pile.

“awe man, i like this movie” She says.

“Dirty Dancing… i like this one too” You smile. You put the movie in and turn off any unnecessary lighting.

“you really like that cake huh?“ You joke.

“i do, you might have to take it away” She chuckles.

“by all means, eat as much as you want” You surrender.

A while passes and the whole time all you could think about, was how your crush was in your living room, basically having a date with you.

“truth or dare” Cory says out of nowhere.

“uhh.. truth”

“have you ever done it with another girl?” She asks.

“nope” You answer simply.

“guy?”

“… are you trying to go more than once?” You ask.

“are you a virgin?” She asks.

“truth or dare, corky” You smile.

“…truth” She chuckles and shakes her head.

“is there anyone that you’re interested in?” You ask.

“ not too sure, we should come back to that.” She answers. You hum and she does the same. “truth or dare?”

“truth”

“what about you?”

‘Should I? It’s not like she’ll know for certain.. i don’t want to embarrass myself and lose my chance though..’ You think.

“…yeah… there is” You direct your attending back to the TV feel her eyes on you. Looking you up and down. “truth or dare?” You ask, trying to keep your cool.

“i say dare”

“i dare you…” You look around the house for an idea. But something better popped into your head. “i dare you to show me your best fake O” You grin.

“that’s heavy” She scratched her head. “don’t think i do this often” She points at you. You put your hands up as if surrendering.

“wouldn’t dream of it” You reply. She knits her eyebrows and slightly parts her lips before making the most exotic expression. She starts breathing heavy and put and arm on the table to keep herself upright.

She suddenly stops and goes back to her first position. “and scene, legs would be shaking of course, but, can’t do that in jeans” She shrugs.

“ top notch performance” You joke.

“ thank you thank you” She bows with a laugh.

“alright, truth or dare (Y/N). careful what you pick” Corky teases.

“why do you have to sound like such a menace” You jokingly roll your eyes. “dare”

“… let me pick what you wear for the rest of the game” She tilts her head, mockingly.

“sure, let’s go” You reply, seemingly unprovoked. Deep down, you were hoping that she wouldn’t pick something provocative. Or maybe you were hoping for the opposite.

“don’t talk about my bed sheets, they were my grandmas” You start off.

“i can tell” She chuckles and you walk her towards your wardrobe.

“ha ha.” You mock dryly. “ there are clothes here and in my drawers, do your worst” You sit on the edge of the bed, tilting your head as you watch Corky sort through your clothes.

A few minutes later, she’d found the small section of your mothers old clothes that she handed down to you. She held up the dress your mother used to love most.

It was all black, sweet heart collared, off shoulder, maxi, and paired beautifully with her pearls. You remember when she’d tell you about how she met your father while wearing that dress.

“oh man” Corny says before looking at you with an excited face. It made you smile to see her like that. “this is the one” She nods. You take the dress from her and head to your bathroom to put it on.

Once you got it adjusted, you walked back out, only to find her no where around the room. You walk into the hall and out into the living room.

There she was, ‘man spreading’ on the couch with yet, another slice of shortcake. “you’re gonna regret eating all of that later” You put a hand on your hip.

“well let me be the judge of th…” Her speech fades as she turned her head to look at you. The way she stared directly at your face, mouth agape, made you shy.

“is it not what you expected?” You ask, confused.

“not at all… in a good way, i mean” She gets up, looking you up and down as she makes her way over.

“is Corky the player blushing right now?” You grin at her.

“ *pshh* you’re seeing things” She denies. You hum and she sets her remaining cake on the table. Her hands find your waist while your arms subconsciously wrapped around her neck.

I've been meaning to tell you

I look at you and I fantasize

You're mine tonight

Hungry Eyes plays from your television as the two of rock side to side. “heh, this is so cliché” You shake your head.

“well i’m loving cliché” She says, looking into your eyes with her infamous grin.

“mm” You try to match her boldness by carrying out the game. “so… truth or dare Corky” You keep the eye contact.

“Dare” She answers. You look up while you think briefly look down at the coffee table.

“okayy… grab your plate” She stares at you and you avoid her gaze. You could tell she was confused. But regardless, she granted your wish.

“now what?” She asks. You dip her fingers in the whip cream frosting and rub the white substance onto your collarbone.

“you know what to do” You grin at her.

“you’re somethin’ else” She shakes her head. Her eyes were focused on yours while she took her time getting close, building up your nerves.

Her tongue ran over your skin as if it’s been doing it for years. You knew she was experienced, she applied pressure, and traced every dip in the area.

Once the cream was gone, she pulled back with a smirk, and you put one on as well. “ i think i have my answer now” She starts and you look at her in confusion. “to your truth?”

“ohh, what is it?” You ask.

“definitely interested in someone” She answers, waiting for a response from you. You felt your heart skip a beat as your confidence slowly shrank.

“that’s funny..” You take the hand you dipped and raise it to your face. “ i’m interested in someone too” You say before sucking her fingers clean, earning that devilish smile from her.

This was, hands down, the best game of truth or dare you’ve played.

(A/N): this is a brain fart write, just smile and wave😭

#x reader #ciaoteamo #corky #corky bound #bound #bound corky #wlw #pride #glg #lgbtq #lesbians #gxg #gxg imagine #corky imagine

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atinyniki · 4 months

Text

it meant nothing.

group: tomorrow x together !

pairing: college bf!choi soobin x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationsips, petnames, crying, kissing, mentions of cheating, lovers to exes to lovers again, break up and make up, soobin kisses another girl, injuries, mentions of blood, suggestive at the end, beomgyu is soobins roommate, soobin is referred to as bin and soob.

authors note: i write wayyyy too much angst :((( i should probably make them happier but my upcoming changbin fic is also angsty </3 this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2132

everything comes crashing down at the sight of your boyfriend kissing her. sure, school has been a lot, but when is it not?

but this? nothing can compare to this pain. you lock eyes with him after he pushes her away, a crestfallen look on his face. you’re not sure why.

is it pity? is it regret? whatever it is, you don’t care to find out. you rush to the door, the crowd erupting in ‘boo’s and lots of yelling, making way for you to get out.

soobin chases after you of course, you’re not very surprised. “y/n! wait!”

you grab your phone and use the flashlight to clear the way, walking to your dorm. you can hear him chasing after you, but your pace only increases.

“y/n please! please just listen to me…”

“what’s there to listen to? you kissed a girl, big deal, you regret it. i know how the story goes, soobin, im not that naive.”

he winces at the sound of his name slipping from your tongue, the two syllables sounding disgusting coming from you.

“it’s not my fault, y/n! she came onto me, i swear!”

“isn’t that what everyone says? ‘it wasn’t my fault?’ nothing you say will change my mind. you kissed her, and that’s not fair to me. there’s nothing left to fix.”

“i didn’t want to kiss her…”

“yeah, well… seemed like you only pushed her away when i looked at you.”

you continue walking, and there’s another moment of silence. you know he’s still following, but you suspect he must just be going to his dorm.

that is, of course, until you hear the sniffles. “stop crying. this is your fault. i get that i haven’t been the best to you affectionately lately, especially because of finals, but that gives you no right to just… kiss other girls at random fucking parties.”

“i- i’m telling you… i didn’t want to kiss her.”

“sure.”

you finally make your way to your dorm, grabbing your keys from your bag. you turn around to see soobin still there.

this time around, he doesn’t fight it. he knows your hurting, and he knows you need space. he just prays you don’t need it forever.

you open the door, looking back at your now ex boyfriend for the last time. “text me if you change your mind. i’ll be waiting for you, love.”

you roll your eyes at the petname, walking into your home and quickly shutting the door from behind you.

you stop walking when you hear a sound from the door, similar to a whimper, and you look out your window. they’re tinted so that it’s a one way, and he has no idea you can even see him in this state right now.

he cries so hard that you can hear his voice cracking with every sound, and he finally gets up after a ten minutes, resting his head along the window you’re peeking through.

“i love you…”, it comes out muffled, but you can still hear it. a teardrop falls onto the glass as he finally accepts your decision. he walks down the steps to leave, when suddenly he slips, hitting his knee on the brick.

he lays there, unable to move due to his mental state, and just smiles up at the sky. the clouds flash a white, then return to their black color, finally pouring down onto him.

the blood from his knee washes away with the rain, but he doesn’t care about that. his wounds don’t matter to him anymore, it’s your wounds that are important.

you can’t bear to look at him anymore, but you check back every ten minutes to make sure he isn’t badly hurt.

the next time you check, he’s already gone, limping across the pavement and wailing. his tears mix with the rain water, disguising his sadness.

there has to be some way he can prove it to you. prove his love, prove his innocence. he needs you back. he needs you to believe him.

life without soobin feels different. it’s as if he’s been completely wiped from your life now that you’ve broken up with him. he hasn’t been to classes, nor is he there to drive you around.

you find comfort in your roommate, but it doesn’t feel the same as it was with soobin. now that you’re completely sober, it’s harder to think about what happened.

he kissed that girl just a week ago, but his words still replay in your head.

‘i didn’t want to kiss her’

he said it many times that night, maybe you should give him a chance to explain. you figure that’s the best idea, and quickly get ready to head to his dorm.

the walk is short, but it feels so much longer with your thoughts. there’s a terrible feeling in your gut, he hasn’t been to class at all. what if something happened to him?

was he really that hurt that he couldn’t even make it to his classes? you rush up the steps, knocking on the door.

beomgyu swings open the door, a smile erupting on his face as soon as he sees you. that means soobin is back right? gyu desperately needs some help with math.

“hey gyu… can i talk to soobin for a second?”

his smile instantly drops, and you suspect it’s because soobin doesn’t want to talk to you.

“what?”

“please? i know he’s probably upset, but—“

“i thought he was staying with you?”

you’re surprised at first, and then your heart just plummets into your stomach. “w-what? what do you mean…”

worry flashes over his face now, “i- he didn’t text me back after the party. i thought he stayed at your place…?”

you shake your head, “no… we broke up.”

“so… he’s not at your dorm… and he’s not at mine… have you seen him in any classes?”

you shake your head again, tears welling up in your eyes. what could’ve happened to him?

“um… i’ll call and check. i’m sure he just needs some space or something…”

you nod, the tears finally escaping your lashline. “let me know if you reach him. thanks gyu”

you dart down the steps before he can say another word. you hear him calling out your name from behind, but you can’t even focus on that right now.

you run all the way to the creek you always used to go to. this was your favorite place to have dates with soobin. the sun always shines perfectly here, but not today.

the clouds shroud the brightness of the sun, the dark grey sky ready to let go and pour down. and so it does, the heavy droplets hitting the rocks and drenching you.

the cool wind hits you too, making it even colder, but you don’t say anything. you let yourself drown in your feelings for a bit. what if it truly wasn’t his fault?

you let yourself cry, no one else being around to see you so weak. the rain is too loud for you to be able to hear the crinkling of the leaves behind you, the shrouded figure startling you.

you know who it is the second you see his injured knee, but you don’t say anything, too scared to face him. he sits down next to you, wordless and clearly afraid.

you can’t tell if he’s shaking because of the cold or because of his sobs, but you assume it’s a little bit of both.

whatever soobin did, you know that he still loves you, but you’re scared that he really did want to kiss that girl.

you use your pinky to grab onto his hand, holding it in yours. his heart cracks more and more, until he’s finally breaking down. the rain has finally stopped, but soobin still feels like he’s drowning.

his sobs are much clearer now that it’s quiet, and the guilt eats you up. you try to think of something to say, but nothing comes out.

luckily, he speaks first.

“what are you doing here?

“i wanted to talk to you. gyu told me you weren’t at the dorms. we were worried about you, you know.”

“i’m sorry… i just figured you needed some space…”

you clutch onto his hand tighter, letting him continue. “i know you might not want to talk about this right now, but… i promise she came onto me.”

you nod, still scared of course, but trying your best to understand him. his breathing gets heavier, almost sounding like he’s suffocating.

“i’d never try to hurt you, ever… and i regret what happened with every fiber of my being. i shouldn’t have been close enough for her to do that to me… i should’ve just stayed with you- and im… im so sorry”

“soobin…”

his breathing gets even heavier with his sobs, unable to even look at you. “i-“

“bin?”

“i- i can’t—“

“hey hey hey… deep breaths”

you guide him through it, inhaling and exhaling with him. you manage to calm him down, frowning. “soobin…”

“no… i- i have a video. her friend recorded it and sent it to me…”

“what?”

he struggles to unlock his phone, fingers still slippery, but he hands it to you. you watch him struggle to push her off, her hands gripping his wrists tightly. tears fall from your eyes again at the sight, why didn’t you trust him?

you look back up at him again, only to be met with a sobbing soobin again. “i’m so sorry… i know it’s selfish but… i need you”

you set the phone aside, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. “soobin… i’m so sorry… i should’ve trusted you.”

“n-no, i know what it looked like. it’s okay…”

“no, i should’ve let you explain.”

a moment of silence passed, the only sound being the sniffles passed between you two and the leaves rustling in the wind.

“do you still want to break up?”

“what? soobin- no… i never wanted to break up… i just- i thought you kissed her on purpose. it seemed like the right thing to do, since i thought you just got bored of me”

he pulls you onto his lap, smiling and grabbing his phone back, making sure not to drop it into the creek.

“i know we’ve been very busy because of our studies, but i would never get bored of you.”

he strokes your hair out of your face, leaning into kiss your cheek. his actions are so tender, even after all the pain you’ve caused him, and you almost start crying again.

“how’s your knee?”

“oh- i… i think it’s okay. it’s not broken or anything, but—“

“i’m so sorry.”

“oh, it’s no biggie. i just slipped.”

“no soobin. i’m sorry for not listening. i wouldn’t have caused you so much pain otherwise.”

“it’s okay… you thought i kissed her. from the angle you saw, i would’ve thought so too.”

you cry into his shoulder once more, his warmth spreading through your entire body. if you weren’t focused, you probably wouldn’t even hear him whisper.

“i love you… y/n.”

you hadn’t heard those words from him in an entire week, but it felt like your heart was breaking again. he sounds so… small. tentative, almost.

as if he thinks you won’t say it back.

“i love you too, soob.”

he picks you up, kissing the tip of your nose and walking towards his dorm again. “soobin! i can walk by myself. if anything, i should be helping you. you’re injured.”

“for you, id travel miles by foot even if my legs were broken…”

“you’re so corny.”

he smiles softly, another tear leaving his eye. “w-wait, no- i didn’t mean it in a bad way”

“i know… i wasn’t crying about that. i just missed hearing your voice.”

“oh baby…”

you hug him a little tighter, leaving small kisses onto his neck to comfort him a little. you finally arrive at his dorm, and he carefully makes his way up the stairs.

you kiss him again before he can even get his keys out, and he smiles at you. but then you do it again. and again.

he unlocks the door, removing his keys and kicking the door open. your lips are still on his, a newfound motivation to make everything up to him.

“oh! you guys are… back…”

beomgyu watches the two of you rush into soobins room with wide eyes, confused as to what’s going on, but he just closes the front door and lays back on the couch.

before he can even turn the movie back on, a loud moan rips through the apartment. he groans, covering his face with a pillow.

this was going to be a long night.

#atinyniki #tomorrow x together #txt #txt x y/n #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #txt x you #soobin #choi soobin #soobin angst #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n

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