#and so the letter gets delivered safely to the girl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanteguccir · 4 months

Text

Can you sing for me? | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is a worldwide famous singer, but her favorite thing in the world is hearing Chris singing just for her.

Warning: None.

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

When you are a world-famous singer who performs at least once a month, tours every year, models, acts, does interviews, is looked at everywhere by papparazzi and scouts, has articles published about you - often with false information -, it was safe to say that Y/N needed a place to rest, and hers was next to Chris.

Her resting with him was many things: spending hours marathoning mindless movies on the couch wrapped in a fluffy blanket and her boyfriend's arms, or when she could lay on Chris's lap and sink into a new book; sometimes it was when her house shared with the triplets smelled like her favorite cake, or when she spent the day making a new DIY that she found on tiktok...

Y/N was a girl with simple tastes, she didn't need much to be impressed, just a few minutes next to Chris were enough for her to feel like the luckiest girl in the world and finally be able to relax her body completely, getting rid of the adrenaline of having a life as an artist.

Don't get me wrong, Y/N loved her profession, since she was little her biggest dream was to be able to perform in front of a crowd and show her talent, and her fans provided that for her; seeing a sea of people in front of her singing along to a song she composed made her see stars, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins when she picked up her pink microphone and could walk, dance, run and jump around the stage freely while singing the lyrics that referred to important moments in her life was incredible.

But nothing compared to waking up next to Chris in the morning and finding the sleepy face she loved so much along with his husky morning voice, or cooking homemade food for them and receiving a hug from behind that was always accompanied by "I love you so much". No moment in front of interviewers with overpriced magazines compared to when Chris won a round of one of his video games and got up from his chair with an excited scream, running over to where Y/N was and showering her with kisses.

Don't even remind me of the thousands of butterflies that flew together in Y/N's stomach when Chris wrote one of his love letters to her, delivering it along with several sweets and chocolates that she was addicted to - a weekly event in their lives.

Y/N's professional life was hectic and tiring, when she wasn't on a plane going from one country to another, she was in a studio recording a new song, or on a famous program answering very controversial questions.

So, when her busy day's were over and she could simply be Y/N, she would go straight into Chris's arms, where she knew she would receive comfort and security.

And that's exactly what she did today. After a turbulent day in the studio recording her new songs, making wrong high notes and having to redo them, crossing out written verses and rewriting them, the girl just wanted to get home and dive into her boyfriend's arms.

Y/N slowly closed the door to her shared room with Chris, her eyes wandering to the low lights and the almost imperceptible sound coming from the television, which was turned on in a random series.

Chris was already in bed dressed in his pajamas, the fluffy gray blanket covering his body up to his shoulders. He had his eyes almost closed from the intense tiredness, but he seemed to fight against it.

That was another thing that Y/N loved about Chris, regardless of what time she came home, he would always be waiting for her awake - more or less.

The girl walked with light steps to the nightstand on her side of the bed, taking the remote control and turning off the television, complete silence settling in the room.

"Hey, I didn't hear you coming." The brunette's sleepy voice caught Y/N's attention, who turned her face towards him, seeing him still lying in the same position, but with his blue eyes now very much open and looking at her. Probably having "woken up" due to the lack of the background sound.

"Hi my love, I just arrived. I'm just going to take a shower and come to bed with you." Y/N responded in a whisper.

"Okay." He said softly, looking at her from below with doe eyes.

Y/N leaned over the bed momentarily, sealing her lips over Chris' soft ones for a few seconds before getting up again and walking to the bathroom.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N opened the bathroom door, the steam from the hot shower escaping momentarily as she crossed to the bedroom, already in her pajamas, before closing it again.

She walked slowly to the bed, seeing Chris lying on his side and holding his phone with one of his hands, looking more awake than before - or trying to -, the screen brightness turned to a minimum as his thumb scrolled through his Instagram feed.

Chris lifted his head slightly when he heard her approaching, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he stretched slowly, locking the screen of his phone and briefly placing it on top of his bedside table. He opened his arms, waiting for his girlfriend to lay there.

Y/N returned the smile, lifting the gray blanket and laying down on her side of the bed, snuggling in before burying herself in Chris's arms. She ran her nose down his neck, breathing in the fresh scent of soap on his skin, caressing the sensitive spot with her lips.

His hands circled her shoulders, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips at the comfort that the warmth post-bath of Y/N's body provided. The girl lifted her left hand, running it through Chris' hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"How was your day?" Chris asked softly a few seconds later, his blue eyes taking in his girl's tired features.

The deep sigh that escaped her mouth was answer enough for him: tiring.

"Did you eat anything? Are you hungry?" He continued, lifting his right hand - which was previously on Y/N's waist - and taking her left hand from his own hair, bringing it to his lips and sealing the soft skin for a few seconds, keeping his attention on her face.

"I had lunch, honey, I'm not hungry." She replied, a tired smile appearing on her lips at his affectionate gesture.

"Don't you want me to get you a snack? Lunch was many hours ago, kitten." Chris intertwined their fingers, only receiving a shake of her head.

"Can you sing f'me?" Y/N asked in a low, weak tone, her words barely noticeable.

A goofy smile grew on Chris's face, his eyes shining with excitement and love. He adored it when his singer girlfriend asked him to sing for her, it seemed too ironic to be true, but that was exactly what Y/N adored most.

"What do you want today? Rap, pop or rock?" He teased, a soft chuckle escaping Y/N's lips as she rolled her eyes, intertwining their legs together and scooting closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, placing a little kiss on the region.

"Anything is fine, I just want to hear you sing." She asked, eager to listen her boy's soft voice against her ear.

"Y/N baby, I dedicate this one for you." He joked, a smile on his voice before he started to sing a song that he knew that was one of his girl's favorite. "Stay bugging out, days on end..." Chris began slowly, resting his chin on his girlfriend's head, his voice now sounding hoarse and low, intensifying Y/N's drowsiness. "Days on end."

Her eyes began to flutter closed, her heartbeat calming down as the weight of her shoulders seemed to drain down her body, her limbs relaxing completely.

"Play this often, don't take this shit too seriously." He continued gently, stroking Y/N's back in circles with his left hand, feeling the area lose its previous tension. "Know you get insecure, wish I had more wisdom for you..."

Y/N took a deep breath lightly, allowing her mind to drift off into the world of dreams, Chris's voice becoming muffled and almost null against her ears, but her brain seemed to still register it, using it as a personal tranquilizer.

"Sleep, babe." Chris whispered after singing some more lines, noticing her closed eyes and slightly open mouth.

He pressed his lips to the top of his girlfriend's head, before snuggling closer against her body, allowing himself to sleep, Y/N's slow breathing serving as his favorite lullaby.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

495 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 1 year

Text

love from afar.

synopsis: The long absence of your lover has taken a toll on your heart, so it's only natural you find a new way to reach him.

includes: childe, scaramouche w/ gn! reader

notes: The latest TCG event got me thinking about how cute it would be for Kirara to deliver literal love letters to people for you. Lots and lots of fluff, the Harbingers miss you dearly. (I know Scara's part doesn't exactly line up with the canon timeline of the game, but let's just ignore it for the sake of fluff.)

Your boyfriend was a Fatui Harbinger. The mere phrase was enough to make many, even the strongest of warriors, run cold with fear. But when you heard the name of your beloved, it only filled you with the warmest of feelings - love.

And you knew more than anything in this world that he loved you. That was enough to make every day worthwhile, even though he was oceans across from you.

But, being the lover of a Fatui Harbinger was no easy task. It meant not being able to have the normalcy most people craved, to wake up to your partner every morning and enjoy the blissful sensation, to go out to restaurants and chat. To only be able to watch on as your friends move on and get married, maybe start families or adopt some pets, and settle into a sweet, domestic life.

Due to this, it had come to your attention that you missed your lover dearly. He had been away for quite some time, and although you exchanged letters, the length of time it took to arrive from overseas was not very pleasing. Which is why when you heard of the Komaniya Express’ impeccable international delivery service, your interest was piqued.

Though when you went to the building where the company resided, you were having second thoughts. Yes, they could deliver anything to anyone, but to your boyfriend was another story. He was… well, you know, so you tried to back out of the deal. But the owner pressed you, restating their reliability.

“You see, it’s not that I don’t have trust in Komaniya Express. I know they are quite reliable, but you see, the person I wish to deliver something to is…”

“Is?”

“A Fatui Harbinger.”

—

Scaramouche:

“A F-Fatui Harbinger?” The owner’s jaw dropped. “Well, I must say even we haven’t ever been asked to deliver something to someone of that caliber…”

“I know… so um, I think it’s best if I-”

“I want to deliver it!” A chipper voice sounded and a pretty girl popped up to the side of you. The first thing you noticed was her cat-like pupils, and then the two tails, and then the… paws!

“Oh Kirara, there you are. Back already?”

“Uh-huh! And now I’m interested in this job! Please, tell me more, and I swear I won’t fail.”

As much as you wanted this letter to be delivered, you didn’t want to send her out without notifying her of your lover’s… frequent outbursts. “Kirara, this is very sweet of you, but he has, um… a temper. It means he will probably be mean to you… and other things.”

“Don’t worry, cherished customer! I’ve already dealt with a bunch of clients with rather rude temperaments. I promise I will see to it that your package will reach his hands safely!”

You couldn’t help but smile in relief, and hand her your items. “Well… here’s a description. He has gorgeous indigo hair and eyes and wears traditional Inazuman clothes, and a large, beautiful hat too. You can’t miss him,” you said, almost dreamily, to which the two other Inazumans raised their eyebrows. Quickly you cleared your throat embarrassingly. “Anyway, he’s somewhere in Mondstadt. I’m sure if you follow some Fatui agents you’ll find him.”

“Oh, and a tip. Before you say anything to him, say my name first. He’ll probably be more inclined to listen to you if you do,” you recommended. Not many people knew of your relationship with Scaramouche, so uttering your name was sure to get his attention.

—

You weren’t joking when you said this Harbinger had a horrible temper. A very severe one in fact, as Kirara had just witnessed him berate a few of his subordinates, and now she was kind of having second thoughts.

“Who’s there?” Suddenly, Scaramouche’s piercing eyes were on her, hand on his Delusion, and she meowed in surprise.

“[Name] sent me!!” Kirara blurted out to which the Harbinger widened his eyes, and then quickly narrowed them again, now even more on guard if that was possible.

“How do you know them? Speak carefully,” he nearly seethed. Kirara’s whole body was on edge.

“I’m your courier from Komaniya Express, and I’m just here to deliver something. See here, it’s a package from [Name]!” she flew through her words and quickly presented a sealed envelope, and Scaramouche immediately recognized the sealing wax on it. Lavender Melon. Wordlessly he snatched it and rubbed with it his thumbs.

It was real. He didn’t know how it got here, but he wasn’t going to wait a second longer to open it. Although he remained expressionless, he worried. Was it urgent? Did something happen? Were you hurt? His eyes scanned the letter.

Kuni, my one and only,

Ta-da! I bet you weren’t expecting this! Did you miss me, pretty boy?

You see, Inazuma has this amazing international express delivery thing, and it's supposedly really fast and efficient. Oh, and don’t worry, they don’t open the packages, so it’s completely safe! I know I always wait for one of your letters to arrive from wherever you are, but I haven’t gotten any. Is that because of the distance or have you not been writing…? It’d better be the former!

By the way, the other day, the head shrine maiden, came up and spoke to me. You know, the one with the big fox ears? I don’t know why she chose now of all times, considering we’ve been together for a while…

But she didn’t ask about you. All her questions were centered around me. I guess she just wanted to learn the kind of person I was, but now I understand why people think she’s scary… But back to the subject! Look at these photos I took!

[Attached are some images of beautiful Inazuman scenery, from different angles and locations. One of the photos has a blanket with two cups of tea set out. Lastly, there is a picture of you.]

I went to our usual spots by myself this time. I know it’s our thing, but you’ve been gone for so long this time. I am used to waiting, but you’ve been gone far longer than usual, no? I even forced myself to drink that bitter tea you like so much. I don’t know how you can stand that… And don’t worry, I’m fine. No hilichurls, no Treasure Hoarders, no one at all bothered me.

Keep the photos. That one photo you carry around of me is far too old, you know. This one was taken with a new model of the Kamera! What? Didn’t think I knew? Anyway, I think they’re pretty nice to look at. Hopefully, they’ll remind you of me, hehe. And motivate you to come back quicker to my arms, hmm?

In all seriousness, I hope you’re well. I miss you dearly. You occupy my mind so much, I could never forget you even if I tried. The few pictures I have of you are barely keeping me at bay, Kuni.

I hope that eventually, there’ll be a day when I never leave your side, Kunikuzushi.

Scaramouche did not react, but inside he felt a twinge of loneliness too. Fuck, he missed you so much as well. Worse, the company he had were useless Fatui agents and his other unreliable Harbingers. And now that irritating kitsune was bothering you? When you belonged to him? His position as a Harbinger was beginning to drive him crazy.

How long had it been since he lay on your chest, falling asleep to the lull of your heartbeat? Been able to hear your lovely voice sing his praises, his cheeks growing hot? How he wanted you to always be by his side as well. But you needed not to worry.

Yes… when he reached godhood, that day will come true. You wouldn’t have to worry again.

“Oh, and if you’d like to write a reply and have me deliver it, that’d be great! [Name] seems to have been waiting for other letters from you for a while… they’ve already covered the cost for it too,” the youkai’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He had forgotten she was here. Though he still did not fully trust this being, he did hear about this company, being from Inazuma and all. And you deserved a reply most of all because clearly, the competent fools were not delivering his letters to you properly. He’ll have to teach them a lesson.

“Same spot, same time, tomorrow,” Scaramouche’s voice was the same irritated bite, as he turned around and disappeared.

—

A few days had passed and you were anxiously awaiting Kirara’s return. You envied her, being able to go where she wanted. To see your lover so easily. But you were used to the waiting game. So used to it, you knew exactly the amount of days that had gone by since you last saw Kuni. So accustomed to loneliness, that you counted the lines on your flooring to pass the time. It was your routine, so as soon as you heard the first knock at your door, you sped to open it at lightning speed.

And lo and behold, it was the person you wanted to see the second most, Kirara. In her hands rested a new envelope, definitely not the one you sent, which could only mean one thing. Your heart soared.

“Hello, dear customer, [Name]! I have successfully delivered your package to Scaramouche! I have a response from here right here,” she presented you with the letter and you had to resist the urge to snatch it. But you were quite impressed that she made it to the Scaramouche.

“Much better than those lousy Fatui agents, hmph… too scared to deliver a mere letter,” you muttered under your breath. “So, how’d it go? I hope he wasn’t too bad?”

“When I mentioned your name, he actually got more defensive, wondering how I knew you, haha. I was a bit scared for my tails for a second.”

“O-Oh, it makes sense he’d do that. I’m sorry I put you through that, Kirara…” You should have known that wasn’t a good idea. Scaramouche was extremely protective when it came to you. Your relationship was kept as secret as possible for a reason, as Scaramouche certainly did not have the best reputation.

“But then when he read your letter, his face softened all of a sudden…you must be really amazing if you could calm his temper down that quick!” Kirara meowed in excitement. “Humans are so amazing! And now, I thank you for choosing Komaniya Express!”

“Haha, thank you, Kirara. We go a long way back… but I am quite pleased with the efficiency of your delivery. I think I will ask for your services again. Ah, and I’ll make sure to leave a five-star review for you!”

Kirara clasped her hands with joy and bowed deeply. “Thank you, thank you!” she squealed with happiness. “I’ll leave you to open your letter now! Thank you very much!”

You watched her leave but quickly slammed the door to rush into your room, jumping on your bed. You traced the outline of the seal, heart rapidly beating. Finally, something from your Kuni. You carefully opened the letter from Scaramouche as if it was the most precious thing you owned. Your heart sang at his familiar handwriting and you read each word slowly, trying to make the excitement last as long as possible.

To [Name],

I was surprised to see a youkai in Mondstadt, but it all made sense after I learned it was one of your childish antics again. Do you ever get tired of being a fool? …Though the fault is partially on me for believing these worms could fulfill any kind of job. From now on, I shall find another way for you to receive my letters. I am surrounded by brainless pests everywhere I turn here. No one is competent enough. Though you are an exception.

The last time I saw you, you had just recovered from being sick. Are you really well enough to be prancing about the place? If I come back and you’re not in good shape, there will be consequences. Make sure to use the recipes I left for you. They’re specifically good for frail human bodies like yours.

I hope you stopped falling asleep in the bath too. I’m not there with you to wake you up, so at least try to be alert.

Also, do not speak to the pink-haired kitsune. She will only bring trouble. When I come back, I expect you to tell me every single thing she asked you.

I don’t have a picture of you on me. You’re an idiot. Though, the clothes I brought suit you. Wear them more often.

Business here should finish up soon. But there’s a particularly annoying person in this world now, a blonde-haired traveler. If you see them, don’t talk to them. They’re dangerous.

I’ve attached a recipe for hash browns from Mondstadt. You always go on and on about how much you wanted to try different cuisine, so next time I come, I’ll have some more ready. Let’s see if you can make something better than my Shimi Chazuke.

I’ll see you soon. I expect to see you waiting with a cup of bitter tea.

And, the day where neither of us have to worry again is approaching. The preparations are already being made.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. His kindness was hidden under layers of mean words, his concern for you peeking through the words even if he tried not to show it. The puppet with a heart more human than he thought.

Your Kunikuzushi.

Though you wondered what that last line could mean…? You hoped he wouldn’t do something drastic.

Childe:

“Well… a Fatui Harbinger does sound like it could be a problem, even for our best courier…” Your shoulders drooped even though you knew that was true, but you still tried to defend Childe.

“I know how this sounds, but he’s actually quite nice to other people when he’s not on business… Even Yoimiya and the neighborhood kids can vouch for him!” You wanted to express how much of a sweetheart he was, but you thought that might harm his reputation with the members of the Fatui. Who were probably nearby, watching you from somewhere because of their orders from Childe.

“That sounds like an interesting job!” A cheery voice echoed from behind you and a girl appeared, one with two tails. Ah, she must be a youkai.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Kirara, and rest assured, I’ll deliver the package to this Harbinger of yours!” she nodded while smiling brightly.

“Really? Are you sure that you want to? I know it sounds daunting…”

“Don’t worry! I can’t work for Komaniya Express if I couldn’t deliver anywhere. And if Yoimiya really does like him, then I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

“Oh… thank you, thank you! Well, at this time he’ll be in Liyue Harbor. But it’s hard to get his exact location… so if you can’t find him, go to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and ask for Zhongli. He’ll definitely know where Childe is. Thanks so much!” you happily handed the letter and small box of toys to Kirara, excited for her return.

Childe was a Harbinger, but Ajax was the sweetest of men. You weren’t worried about anything happening, just the matter of Kirara actually finding him.

—

Locating the eleventh Harbinger was not as hard as Kirara thought it’d be. It seemed like he was quite well-known in Liyue. She spotted his ginger hair as he exited what looked to be an expensive restaurant and immediately scurried up to him.

“Hello, sir! Are you Childe, by any chance?” Childe was momentarily surprised at the girl initiating conversation, because of his Harbinger status and all.

“That’s me, alright. Is there something you need from me?”

“Great! See here, I have a package from [Name] to deliver to you.” Childe immediately straightened up at the sound of your lovely name.

“[Name]? Are you friends with them?” Childe’s eyes twinkled with interest. He’d love to hear about how you were doing.

“Oh, not quite,” Kirara laughed. “I’m just a humble courier that was sent to deliver this very important package for you! So please, sign here. Oh, but don’t worry about [Name]. They looked to be quite healthy when I saw them,” she quickly reassured him. “Feel free to send something back to them by the way. I’ll deliver it!”

He always felt so exhilarated with you, comparable to how he felt when he battled. Always so full of surprises, keeping him on his toes. Quickly, he ripped open the letter to see what words you weaved on the pages.

My beloved Ajax,

Hello, my dearest! I hope this letter finds you well. I know you said you’d be back soon, but I couldn’t resist trying to contact you through… you know. Alternate means. The Fatui agents never deliver our stuff quickly enough!

First, I know sometimes Teucer visits you in Liyue, so I’m sending over some plushies I’ve sewn for him. He still likes Ruin Guards, doesn’t he? Well, now he’s got the whole Ruin Machine collection. Please pass them on to him whenever you see him, and tell him I miss him dearly of course!

Secondly, well… I miss you more! I’ve been counting the days until I could see your pretty face again. I’ve been training as you told me to, but I’m afraid it’s kind of hard when we’ve been separated for so long… but I promise, I’ll be a worthy sparring partner! And, the neighborhood kids are asking me every day when you’re coming back. I’m going to have to start hiding in my house at this point.

Ah, how can I survive without a strong, handsome young man to carry all of my groceries home? Without his powerful arms to lift me everywhere I please? I truly am at a loss… (Am I making you miss me more? I hope it’s working.)

Oh yes, I was thinking, you and I have never been to the beaches in Inazuma together! I’m sure they’re nothing like the ones in Liyue, but they’re still pretty nonetheless. We should definitely go and collect some seashells and play in the water! (And you better not use your Hydro Vision to your advantage again!)

Hopefully one day, the water fights can be snow ball fights instead, hmm? ;)

Love you!

P.S.: If I don’t receive a couple of dozen kisses the next time you visit, you’re being banned from cuddles.

Childe couldn’t help but smile and laugh as he read your letter. You were so, so cute. How did he get so lucky? And now he wanted to snatch you away to Snezhnaya even more. He wanted you to meet the rest of his family already.

“Would you wait here for a bit? I want to respond to them right away.”

—

You were just returning home when Kirara popped up out of nowhere, waving something in the air which you immediately recognized to be one of those fancy envelopes Childe always used. You nearly tripped on the trips as she came bounding up to you.

“I’m glad I caught you, [Name]! I’ve successfully delivered your package and have a reply here!” She placed the letter, and also a few hefty bags of what you already knew was Mora. It wasn’t a letter from Childe if he wasn’t trying to spoil you somehow.

“I’m so glad you found him! I hope it wasn’t too much trouble?” Kirara smiled and shook her head.

“He seemed to really miss you. He kept rereading your letter over and over. I think he was kind of disappointed when I didn’t have any news of you…” You couldn’t help but laugh. Childe really lived up to his name sometimes.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just so happy you could deliver my stuff. Thanks once again!” Kirara bowed deeply and you waved her off.

You decided to sit down on the porch of your house. It was rather beautiful as Childe had purchased the loveliest one he could of course. With extreme care, you opened the letter and began reading.

Dearest [Name],

When I saw this lady with two tails, I thought she would be a great sparring partner. But then when she came up to me bearing a package from you, I was even more surprised! Missed me that much, hmm? Well, you’re not the only one… Waking up to a cold bed isn’t what I prefer.

Passing the time without you has been difficult. Liyue has some good fishing spots, but I miss having you next to me trying not to scream when you finally managed to catch something. Haha, have you been training in that too without me, love?

Anyway, you’re in luck. Teucer somehow got away and is in Liyue again… but I can’t be too mad. He’s been playing with your toys the whole day and making me join him too. Now, I can’t let you give such wonderful gifts to my family and leave you empty-handed! Here’s a couple of million Mora. I know that’s not much, but all the other gifts are stuck in transit… I hope they get there soon. There are clothes, jewelry, books, and, actually, let’s just wait until it comes.

I’m sorry to make you wait so long, baby. You’ve been so understanding of my duty and all, and I know you don’t deserve this. But I promise to make it up to you when I’m back. And, you know, I have been thinking about this for a while. You should come to live in Liyue. We still won’t be together all the time, but I’m stationed there more than the other nations.

You can use my place to stay, it’s quite luxurious of course, and everyone here is very friendly. Mr. Zhongli in particular would like to meet you. So just think about it, okay? Also, the beach sounds quite nice. I hope you’re ready to be soaking wet because I’m not going to let you get away. (I will be using my Vision. It’s too funny to hear you squeal.)

Speaking of, I hear there’s going to be a festival in Inazuma soon, Yoimiya told me about it. I’ve never been to one, but it sounds rather exciting. There’s even a fighting competition! We should go together. And don’t worry, I’ll win all of the games at the stalls for you.

I have so many things to tell you when I get there. I also have a bunch of souvenirs from my travels too… there’s a story for each one. I hope you’re prepared! I expect to hear every detail about your life, too.

P.S.: I’ll hold you to that threat, comrade. I’ll be counting every single kiss, so don’t think about escaping.

P.P.S.: I’d still destroy you in a snowball fight. But we’ll see when you come to Snezhnaya.

You couldn’t contain your love and jumped up and down, holding the letter to your chest. How could a man be so sweet, charming, kind, and more? The list went on. But you couldn’t help but laugh at his handling of Mora. You had insisted every time he needn’t send you this much money, but alas.

Liyue, huh? You had never stepped foot outside of Inazuma, especially with the previous Vision Hunt Decree, but now perhaps would be a good time to expand your horizons.

Especially when your beloved Ajax was there with you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #scaramouche fluff #childe fluff #scaramouche headcanons #childe genshin x reader #childe genshin impact #wanderer fluff

1K notes · View notes

jaylaxies · 10 months

Text

JAY — LOVE LANGUAGES

pairing: jay × fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of food.

wc: 1079 words!

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

a/n: hihii! i’m so in love w jay guys, he’s the epitome of perfection! this was requested by anonnie (here and here), all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated <3

ꗃ WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

🩶Jay knows how much a single statement can affect your whole day, which is why he never fails to greet you with the sweetest yet meaningful text such as a “good morning, princess,” text and it doesn’t stop there. He’ll go through any lengths to make sure you’re aware that you’re the light of his life. It would provide him with utmost pleasure to give you handwritten letters each month, just to see a sweet smile on your face.

🩶 He leaves small post it notes for you, writing down exactly what you need to read because he knows it’ll boost your spirits. He loves to pull you into sweet kisses, mumbling sweet nothings in between as you take in his comforting scent and open up your whole heart to him, which he promises he’d keep safe forever.

🩶 “You’re the prettiest girl ever, my prettiest girl ever, and I’m not letting anyone make you think otherwise,” he’d say on the days you feel insecure, trying to hide your body. But his kisses are loving, healing every self doubt arising in your mind, letting you feel free with him as he goes on praising your body, his lips worshipping every inch of you. His main concern would be to make you feel comfortable while making love to you, thrusting gently as he looks at you with love filled eyes.

ꗃ ACTS OF SERVICE

🩶Jay’s selflessness makes you want to hide him in your arms. He would do anything for you, and he’s made it clear. He subtly starts to take responsibility of making sure you’re well fed by cooking for you, trying to incorporate your tastes into healthy dishes and even rewarding you with your favourite dishes whenever you feel down.

🩶 He knows that your schedule doesn’t leave you any time to get the house cleaned up or get the grocery shopping done, so he takes the matter into his hands whenever he gets time and makes sure to get it all done for you, not to mention how he smiles when he sees you favourite snacks at the store, getting some for you, knowing you’ll give him loving kisses when you discover it in the shopping bag.

🩶 Being smart and organized is another reason why he helps you with your university work or projects and he goes beyond your imagination to spend some quality time with you, which includes him arranging a relaxing bath with soothing tunes playing in the background, and he just sits there, slotting you between his legs as he gives you featherlight kisses over the expanse of your neck and shoulder blade, perhaps even more if you let his fingers wander down inside your cunt in the promise of him making you feel as if you’ve reached heaven.

ꗃ GIVING GIFTS

🩶 Jay might be allergic to flowers, but he doesn’t miss the smile on your face when he finds you staring at the flowers whenever you go out, so he makes sure to get the prettiest bouquets delivered to your place.

🩶 He notices every single thing, which also includes your taste in outfits, so whenever he finds anything he believes you would fancy, and would suit you, he makes sure to purchase it for you. He personally loves to have good perfumes and he’d probably purchase a whole collection for you even if you show the slightest interest in any scent.

🩶 Love letters, restaurant bills from your dates, personalized gifts such as matching bracelets/necklaces and artworks, he’d be willing to gift you everything that reminds him of you. He loves to act like a sugar daddy at certain occasions, spoiling you and smirking, holding the gift up just to see you whining, which would turn into a sweet hum when he kisses your lips deeply.

ꗃ QUALITY TIME

🩶 If there’s one thing Jay would want more than anything, it would be spending quality time with you. To him, time is important, and so he goes out of his way to make sure he gives you enough time, not only because he wants you to feel loved, but also because he’s so in love with you, it’s practically impossible for him to go on without you.

🩶 His eyes are nothing but loving when they stare at you full of adoration, it doesn’t matter if you’re spending a cozy evening together, watching a movie while being in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the softest blanket you own, or if you’re trying to be productive together, he swears he finds solace simply by being present in the same room as you.

🩶 Jay personally loves it when you try out new recipes together, giving each other spoonful to taste and experiment. Going out on late night walks is another thing he adores, even more so when your smaller hand holds on to his bigger one ever so adorably.

ꗃ PHYSICAL TOUCH

🩶 He’s clingy in general but it only gets better when you’re alone with Jay, he pouts when you don’t give him attention, whining about him not being able to breathe without your touch simply to get your attention. His smile is goofy when you finally sit with him, gently letting him sleep on your lap with your fingers caressing his cheek, playing with his hair, exactly how he likes it.

🩶 Good morning and night kisses are mandatory for him, however he can’t control if you’re pouting and so, you’ll often find yourself under Jay as he kisses you deeply, sweet giggles leaving your lips as you both get rid of your clothes, gaze brimming with warmth, desperate sighs resonating the room. He knows your weakest spots, and he kisses them, your eyes fluttering close at the blissful pleasure of his length hitting the deepest spots in you, his breath tickling your neck before he marks your sensitive skin, possessiveness taking over as you come undone underneath him.

🩶 Being close is not enough for you both, he needs to have his cock inside you, cockwarming being one of his favourite activities while cuddling, watching movie alongside, yet your focus is solely on how he stretches you, filling you up so perfectly. He also offers to massage your body on the days you feel tired, with no energy to work, and he’d be gentle, also giving you tummy rubs when you’re having painful cramps. He’d always be there to hold you no matter what.

TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear

taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #jay x reader #enha smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #jay park smut

608 notes · View notes

writing-in-glitter-pen · 7 months

Text

♡𖠣 patchwork♡𖠣 II childe x fem!reader II mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, cheery epilouge

Childe needs to see you before he meets his end; a precipice he is very near to by the time you find him miles from your home, crawling through the snow. To his confusion, you've taken him in and dedicated yourself to nursing him back to health. Little did you both know, your love for one another ran deep enough to heal all wounds.

content warnings: Childe is badly injured so there are descriptions of blood, broken ribs, aches and pains. Descriptions of applying medical stitches to close open wounds. Nothing too descriptive. I am not a doctor so do not try this at home. Mutually possessive themes. A suggestive comment in the epilouge. Let me know if I should add anything else!

Also, happy Thanksgiving everyone :) I am so grateful to each and every person who finds my work and enjoys it; these past six months of my blog being up and running has been so fulfilling and magical. I'm so lucky to have this community ♡ I'm sending all my love to you today ♡

“Blow.”

Childe puckered his split, dry lips and let out a weak breath---no power behind the gust at all. The hot steam that rose from the spoon you held to his lips mocked him; such a small opponent, unshaken and uncooled by his efforts.

You sighed; he wasn’t healing as fast as he should be...meaning, he most likely was ignoring your instructions and not adhering to his strict bed rest.

You were straddling him where he lied on the bed in your guest room, propped up by a mountain of pillows---including the ones from your own bed and the throw pillows from your couch; a desperate attempt to make him as comfortable as possible, which was a feat not easily achieved given his broken state. If you’d sat at his side, he wouldn’t be able to face you, since his cracked ribs made any movement excruciating. Even so, he refused to stay put, risking his health every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the shower or the bathroom. You told him you should be assisting him any time he had to exert himself, but he vehemently refused your help with his hygiene---it was simply humiliating that a grown man like him would need help washing himself, especially your help. “Save me my pride.”, he begged, the grim and embarrassed look on his face making you cave. You agreed to his demands as long as he’d let you walk him to and from the amenities, that way he wouldn't risk falling on his way and injuring himself further. But he’d still disobey and take himself there while you weren’t looking. You took to smelling his hair every time you came to check on him, smoothing it back and lifting your nose to his forehead to check if he showered without you getting him there safely. He always smelled clean, bringing that frustrated frown he loathed to be the cause of to your pretty face.

“You’ll kill yourself.”, you’d warn, “And I’ll have to bury you in the backyard.”.

He didn’t understand why you cared so much—why you, literally, dragged him back to your house after finding him beaten and bloody only a couple miles from your cabin, having crawled from a camp in a Snezhnayan forest he had been instructed to collect a debt from the residents of. They'd expected his visit and prepared an ambush of twenty. Normally, he could win a battle such as this with ease, but his exhuastion from the continuous missions he was assigned by the Fatui without breaks became too much for him. Thank Celestia you found him when you did, having fortunately been scavenging for snow berries in the very same forest.

He had been hauling himself in the direction of your cabin, trying to get as far as he could so that he might deliver you the letter he’d been saving in the breast pocket of his daily coat for years. One he’d carried with him always to ensure that, in the event he met his end, that his final confession would reach you.

A letter he’d been too cowardly to send to you in life—his one and only friend, the girl he grew up with in grade school, who he’d chosen to play make believe in the snow and ice-skate with, rather than hunting and roughhousing with the other boys in his class. It wasn’t that those boyish activities didn’t interest him, it was that his interest in you outweighed those hobbies by tons. You were everything, still were.

That’s why it was so mortifying that you had to nurse him back to health; shouldering the consequences of his deadly line of work.

Not only did he almost lose his life to his opponents, but for you to find him at his weakest made the shame burn all the worse.

You leaned over to where you brought the spoon a centimeter from his lips, nose nearly brushing his own as you gently blew on the sip of homemade chicken soup inside. He felt your warm breath on his lips, the feeling of you made his pale cheeks turn pink and weak heart sputter in his chest.

If his ribs weren't broken, if they were still in the healthy condition of a cage they once were, he might believe his chest housed a hummingbird; the pace of his heart mimicking the incessant beating of it's wings. The way just being close to you stirred and electrified him, you could bring him back to life with just a kiss.

Your eyes flicked back up to his, urging the spoon to his lips, indicating you wanted him to open them.

He did, his gaze not breaking from yours as he opened his mouth and let you feed him. It was such an intimate moment that you forgot to breathe, catching your breath as you watched him swallow the meal you'd prepared for him and him alone. Though you were both quiet, it felt like the room buzzed lowly around the both of you. He didn't know it, but the way he looked at you with such deep warmth made you shiver.

“You were up last night, weren’t you?”, you finally asked, already knowing the answer.

Indignity marred his face as he averted his eyes to the wooden floor of your house, but his break from your irritated gaze didn’t last long. You took his chin between your thumb and forefinger and redirected his attention back to your face.

“Tell me the truth.”

He had no choice now. You had him pinned.

“…Yes, I got up…sorry.”

Your disappointed face made him flinch—stinging more than your anger or scorn ever could.

You sighed, closing your eyes and moving your hand from his chin to cup his cheek, worried eyes boring into his and squeezing his heart.

“You’re delaying your healing process. Every time you get up without help—“

“I don’t need a walker like a decrepit, old man”, he spat, instant regret pailing him. He hated that he snapped at you, hated that he couldn't control himself. His embarrassment would overwhelm him---like it always did when you looked at him like a wounded animal. He turned his face away from you once again, but you pulled his attention right back.

“Stop it.”, your stern command sat like a rock in his stomach. Though, the heavy feeling dissipated when your gaze turned soft and fretting. “I’m sorry I’m playing 'demanding nurse', but I need you to work with me if you’re ever going to get better. I don’t want these wounds to be permanent; getting up without help will make your bones heal wrong, or open your stitches back up.".

He knew better than to take his eyes off of you at this point, but the guilt in his expression told you all you needed to know. His late night walk last night had come with consequences.

“You didn’t—"

Without warning, you threw the blankets off of him, only to find a bloody, crudely secured bandage over the deep laceration on his abdomen. He'd popped his stitches.

“Childe!”, your shriek made him wince. “Why didn’t you tell me!”.

“I’m sorry…”, he started, but you didn’t hear him. You were already running off to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.

He was getting really sick and tired of disappointing you. He'd been in this room for weeks, been your constant source of anxiety and labor for weeks, and he wasn't getting any better.

...but you were never frustrated. Sure, he'd annoy you with his pride, but no amount of effort put into caring for him would ever be a waste, not to you, at least. He'd pop his stitches or worsen a crack in his ribs with a fall or sharp movement, you'd scold him, but no matter how many times it happened, you'd always redo them, always hold ice packs or heating pads over his aches; carefully, gently.

He watched your beautiful, soft hands work while they drew the needle and thread through him---and he wouldn't flinch. It didn't even hurt. It couldn't, when it was a mesmerizing sight; the way you left what would be permanent scars along his body---covering the old ones left by his enemy. Scars that were not made to wound, but to heal. Any mark you left upon him was gratefully accepted, knowing that he'd now carry evidence of you and your care with him at all times, all the way up until his last day in this world.

Like clockwork, the process was quick and painless. The first time you'd sewn him up, you had no clue what you were doing; fumbling and sobbing as you desperately tried to save his life. Tears clouded your view and your shaking hands couldn't safely find purchase on his abdomen. But Childe steadied you, held you close and whispered reassurances and apologies to you while talking you through every step. Now, he was like your personal patchwork doll. You'd sewn him up every time he went and hurt himself again, each stitch made with love and care.

When you were done, you wiped the area with a warm, firewater-soaked cloth, then applied an antibacterial ointment. He'd tried to take it from you, insisting he could apply it himself, but you smacked his hands away.

"You're my patient. Just sit back and let me take care of you.", you said it like it was nothing; a plain fact, your job. But it wasn't your job. He couldn't see why you were so compelled to shoulder this work yourself when you could've had him carted off to a Fatui infirmary the day you found him.

"They won't take care of you like I will.", was all you would say.

You knew the Fatui infirmary would prioritize getting their war machine in working order as soon as possible, rather than giving him quality treatment and time to heal. You also knew that, since visitors were not allowed into the Fatui headquarters, he would be all alone. And you wouldn't have that. You'd gotten letters to your residence that the Fatui knew you had their harbinger and were coming to collect him, but you used every one of them as kindling for the hearth in Childe's room. Soldiers had shown up at your front door, demanding entry or that you send their harbinger out to them, but to their surprise, you fought them like a wildcat. It was incredible how fierce you'd gotten over the subject of Childe's care, not allowing anyone but yourself to touch him. Your shouting startled the agents and they backed off as you swung the wooden spoon you'd been holding at them, warning them to get lost.

"He'll be back when he's healed and not a moment sooner!", you'd hollered as they begrudgingly trudged away.

Childe's gaze on you was proud and soft at the memory; you were the only person that had ever fought for him---and fought Fatui agents two times your size with a wooden spoon, too.

At your request, he greedily accepted your touch, closing his eyes as he let himself be blissfully consumed by the feeling of your kind hand smoothing the ointment over his skin.

When you finished, you sat back and examined him for a while. You did this often---like you were saving the image of him somewhere deep within you, like you were scared to forget him, scared to lose him. Your gaze washed him in warmth, his chest aching from the well of love he harbored for you. It made his eyes glitter and his heart ask questions it was desperate to know the answers to.

"...why do you put yourself through this?", the question slipped from his mouth in a whisper before he had the chance to think it through. It had been eating away at him since the day you took him in.

You tilted your head, the curious pout on your lips making him gulp; you were so very cute.

"Through what?", you asked.

"This.", he clarified, lifting his arms as much as he could to gesture to the situation you'd both found yourselves in. "...you know you don't have to.".

"I want to.", you argued. "The Fatui wouldn'---"

He interrupted your statement, "wouldn't take care of me like you would, I know. But that doesn't answer my question.", he looked into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows and painful confusion in his expression. "I know I'm burdening you. So why would you put yourself through this?".

In all honesty, he was terrified of your answer. He feared that asking would make you come to your senses and finally send him away; though he knew you deserved to get his hopeless corpse out of your house.

What he didn't expect was the lips he was so enamored with curving into a smile.

"You said you were mine; so you're mine to take care of. No one else's."

Now this perplexed him. He'd been yours since the day he met you, when your pretty face and gentle demeanor tethered him hopelessly to you from your first shared smile. And that tether coiled itself tighter and tighter around him with every day you spent at each other's side, every time he observed your unending compassion---building huts for creatures of the forest before snow storms would hit, patiently helping him with the school subjects he struggled in, babysitting his siblings with him while his parents were away...but what was so confusing was, he'd never told you. He belonged to you in silence and silence alone, neglecting to inform you of the hold you had on the heart he'd willingly given to you long ago.

He was at a loss for words, your exclamation hitting the nail right on the head. He was yours, but how did you know?

His wide eyes and crimson cheeks only made you chuckle, pulling his letter out of the apron you wore---the letter he'd saved on his person at all times for you in the event of his death.

"Unless this isn't yours?", you asked, cheekily.

His face paled. You must've found it after you'd taken him back to your house to care for him. You'd washed his clothes, including his coat, and emptied the pockets before throwing them in the wash bin---finding his letter for you safely tucked in the pocket that rested above his heart.

You opened the letter and read aloud your favorite passage to him:

"When you find my body, I ask that you carve out my heart and take it with you; it belongs to you, just as my body, my mind and my soul, though I fear the whole of me is too heavy for you to carry. Carry this, so you may have me and not be crushed by my weight. So you may have proof that I, and everything I am, belongs to you."

The rosy, dreamy smile that bloomed on your lips as you cantored his confession to him like gospel brought his deepest wishes and desires to life; you accepted him and his love with your full heart. His voice escaped him as you made his dreams come true with just a smile. Your perfect, perfect smile.

"Childe...", you said with a sweetness in your voice that rivaled any dessert he'd ever tasted.

His name falling from your lips made his heart jump.

"...yes?"

"...I love you.", the phrase left your throat like a quiet, ardent cry. I love you. It came from a deep, ancient part of your heart; a space carved out long ago for the boy you spent your childhood with, a space whose walls strain against the fullness of it. You'd stuffed it full of so much care for him, it felt like it was just a pinprick from bursting.

Your words made his own heart whine and scrape at the confines of his chest like a puppy wanting out of its cage so that it may find its beloved owner.

"That's why I take care of you. I love you.". It wasn't an explaination, it was a promise. It was a confession that you were just as tethered to him as he was to you.

Without another word, you scooted closer and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, careful not to lean too much of your body weight on him, but enough to envelop him in your warmth. He felt your heart beating against his, a passionate duet between lovers that had gone too long unsung.

He couldn't hold you in return, his arms aching too much to lift, but he buried his nose in the crook between your shoulder and neck, breathing in your scent as deeply as he could, pressing kisses to the soft space. You loved him. You loved him. He'd believe he was dreaming if the soreness from his wounds wasn't all too real---proof that he was living and breathing in the reality that you wanted him. That you wanted him and he was yours without any hesitation. Now, he was itching to heal, prepared to follow any rules you put in place for him as long as it meant that at the end of the process he could hold you like he wanted to---tight and possessive and finally.

He hungrily kissed his way up the column of your neck, just like he'd done in every daydream he had a moment to indulge in and in the periods of wakefulness he spun in before he fell asleep every night. Every waking thought he could spare was spent in dedication to you you you. He made his way up your jaw, to the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you gasp and shiver; spending a long, devoted moment tending to it eagerly. Then he kissed back down your cheek until he hovered right in front of your lips---pausing there. He looked up into your eyes amorously, pleadingly, silently asking for your permission to press his lips to your own. As if he was unsure if he was worthy or not.

Your loving gaze was enough to give him his answer.

So he shut his eyes and leaned into you as you braced yourself on his shoulders, squeezing them as his cracked lips finally met your own. He ardently devoured you, his desperation overcoming his physical limitations---abandoning his need for physical comfort in lieu of his need to taste you, to lick up every sweet kiss you would give him. He leaned forward as you attempted to pull away, his lips unable to satiate their craving. You relented, laughing lightly as you gently pressed him back down onto the pillows to relieve the sharp pain in his abdomen he sacrificed for a moment more of your lips on his. You indulged him, smoothing your hands up his neck to cup his jaw and hold him as you gave him as much as he wanted---which would never be enough.

No matter how much affection you'd give him, it could never fill the well of longing he'd been digging for you since the day he met you.

He'd yearn for you every moment of every day of his life. In this moment, he made a law for himself to follow: After he heals, he'll take care of himself, treat his exhaustion and avoid lethal injuries, so that he may keep coming back to you with his love in tow---offerings of affection he'd lay at your feet and pray you'd accept. He'd keep his heart beating so it would stay warm for you; so that the day you'd pry it from his chest would remain eras away.

· · ♡ · ·

"Childe, I can hold the spoon.", you demanded, attempting to snatch the spoonful of soup from his hand as he chuckled and evaded your swipes.

Your grumpy, flushed face was too adorable for his heart to take, and the sound of your stuffy voice was too funny.

Oh, how the tables have turned since the day you'd taken him into your home. Once he'd started adhering to your treatment plan wholeheartedly, he healed in record time. Your harbinger had grown stronger and livlier than ever, a feat which he acreditted solely to your kisses and love.

"All I'm saying is, I didn't start healing until you started kissing me.", he had claimed, grinning broadly as he brought you into his arms after being able to stand on his own without pain for the first time since his injury.

He'd moved in not too long after he came back from his first mission since his hiatus, favoring your cozy cabin over any mansion his money could buy. He was grateful to be home with you...but you'd caught a bug while he was away. When you opened your front door with bleary, puffy eyes and the sniffles, he couldn't help but pinch your cheeks and laugh, drawing you in for a kiss. You'd argued and tried to push his face away, shouting that he'd get himself sick, but he only captured your wrists and held them against his chest as he pressed his lips to yours.

"No weak little bug can take down a warrior as strong as me.", he'd arrogantly claimed...

...you hated that he was right.

So he got to steal kisses from you scott free while he nursed you back to health, just as you'd done for him.

And he delivered such sweet payback, playing 'demanding nurse' just like you had.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Open up. Medicine's gotta go down the hatch."

"You're not sleeping alone tonight, love. Gotta keep you warm so your cold doesn't get worse!"

"Maybe you shouldn't shower alone...you might faint. Just let me come with you."

You started to pick up on the fact that maybe not all of his rules and regulations were made solely in your interest.

Now, you were fighting him over whether or not you could feed yourself.

"My arms aren't broken!", you bickered, sniffling and pouting like a stubborn child.

"Ah ah ah! But any physical exertion could delay your progress. You wanna get better, don't you?", he argued, grinning like a fox.

"...yes."

"Then lay back and let me handle you. I gotta take care of what's mine, right?".

You only quit your grumbling because he looked so proud of himself. So cheerful that he got to make you feel better and call you his, just like you'd done for him.

He planted a kiss to your hot forehead, tutting as he pulled away.

"Your fever hasn't gone down yet. Let me get you a cool compress."

With that, he trotted off to the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile at his antics, running about without a break and spending every moment of the day doting on you---all for a little case of the sniffles.

And how could he not? You were his one and only love, and like he said, like he'll repeat any time you need to hear it...

You are his. He is going to take care of you.

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin childe #genshin ajax #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia x reader #childe fluff #friends to lovers #childe genshin impact #ajax genshin impact #ajax tartaglia #tartaglia x you #genshin tartaglia

381 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Love you the way you are

requested by @ladymidnights-blog I was wondering if you'd write an Azriel x reader where she comes back from a mission and was hurt and bleeding, but she's really good at hiding it and brushing it off, but Azriel finds out and it's all fluffy and soft. I'm in such a mood for soft azriel to be honest.

warnings: fighting, injuries, cuts, blood, stitches

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You loved the thrill of it. The rush of adrenaline, the dizziness it gave you. It wasn't just about serving your high lord or keeping your court safe. Even if that was your main duty. It's like all of this was in your blood. Ran through your veins. Was part of your existence. After all, that's all you did for as long as you could remember.

You were quite a rebel. Caused Rhys heaps of trouble through the years, even though the high lord was good friends with your father. Some things just couldn't be pushed under the rug, and even his high rank didn't allow it to be swept aside. So after being sent to a private boarding school and almost sending it down in flames, your father was ready to give up on you until Rhys made a proposal that he wanted you to work for him.

You didn't expect that. A part of you was sure that this was a nicely coated way of saying that Rhys was going to put you in the dungeons and potentially behead you for all that you had done. But no, the same things that the High Lord had written in the letter, were told to you when you arrived at the night court. Serve me; he told you; be my cruelest weapon, eyes, and ears in places that no one could reach. Oddly enough, he saw a potential fighter's soul inside of you. A good soul maybe lost and a little bit damaged, but a good soul is, most importantly, one that needs a loving home and people it can trust.

And it was all glitter and sparkles until Azriel got informed that he was going to get a mission buddy. That was Rhysand provided him with his right hand. His commander, a person with whom he was supposed to share his work. And to say that the shadow singer wasn't happy once this information was delivered would have been an understatement. But seeing him kick and fight to get you off the court, or at least off of his hands, only increased your excitement.

You, however, didn't care for friends, didn't care for gatherings or dinners, that all of the inner circle had together. You sat at the table alongside them only if it was delivered as an order, never if it was just a suggestion. At best, you observe them from afar. A dull corner, a crack in the doorway, from the side of the upstairs stairwell. Cold and unapproachable. That's how you wanted it to be seen. The fewer weaknesses, the better.

That was all until one night, after turning and tossing in your bed for hours, you decided to use the time that was being wasted by trying to fall asleep to train. As quiet as a shadow, you made your way out, anticipating the empty and quiet training ring. But there was already a figure swirling there. Azriel. You've never seen anyone move in the way that he did. The way he fought. The way he held a dagger. The way his shadow swirled around him. Everything he did, every move he made, seemed to have an edge to it. Azriel wasn't just talented; he was perfect.

"Came to get your ass beat?", the sound of his voice pulled you out of your train of thought, and you blinked quickly. Yet you only shrugged, "No, just had a feeling you might want to get your ass beat." Walking swiftly past him, you picked up a dagger before turning the spymaster's way.

"Care for a little fight?", but Azriel only laughed, "I don't do catfights, gorgeous", you narrowed your eyes at him not only because of the nickname but also because during all the time you had spent here you have fought both Rhys and Cassian, all of the girls, but never Azriel. It didn't matter what you did, what you said, or what strings you pulled—you could never get him to finally give in. "You know, the more you back away, the more I think that you're just petrified that I would indeed beat you. Your ego is that fragile?", Azriel picked up his shirt that was tossed to the ground before wiping his sweaty face with it. "I'm more concerned about your ego," he said, but you just shook your head. Fine, let it be Mr. Untouchable, you thought to yourself.

You weren't going to waste your time. "Leaving already?", yet you only roll your eyes at him before continuing to walk off. You walked until Azrie spoke again, "I'm impressed with your work, Y/N. Keep it up, and you might just end up on my good list." You were glad you had your back to him because the sudden flush on your cheek was embarrassing. You'd never blushed like that before. At least males had never made you blush like that. They disgusted you, at least the majority of them.

And that was another thing that frightened you—the way Azriel broke through your shield, through all the walls you've built. That's how the next few months were. You went on missions together or separately. You brought in reports, organized some of his old papers, attended meetings and bit by bit you found yourself growing attached to him. There was no more bumping into each other in the middle of the night accidentally. You both purposely made time at night to train together.

And you found yourself walking alongside him, laughing, without even realizing it. Agreeing to sit through dinner with his family. Occasionally leaning into him when the wine hit your head too hard. Letting him tackle you to the ground so you could feel his warmth on your skin. Silently, and still very cautiously, that flame of attraction inside of you sparked up.

However, things got particularly sour in court not long after. The Illyrian camps started to cause more and more trouble. Missions to the camps were the only ones that you weren't allowed to attend. If Rhys didn't stress about it enough, Azriel sure did. No, it wasn't just that you shouldn't go. You were forbidden from ever putting a foot there. And you didn't fight that; after all, they were the ones who knew the flows of the camps.

Yet their absence left you to deal with everything else. Strange thefts started to appear in Velaris, and with accusations and threats that were being left regarding Rhys, things had gotten much more serious.

When the order to deal with it came, you weren't surprised. Strapping daggers to all parts of your body, you wrapped a cloak around yourself and vanished into the night. The smart move would've been letting someone know, but the boys were busy with the camps and the girls were out for the night at Rita's. So neither had time for additional interactions.

You lurked in the shadows for some time, waiting for the stranger to appear. And he did show up; however, he wasn't alone. There were at least five of them fully armed. You should've just turned away and left them be because even if you trusted your fighting skills. Taking down five males twice your size wasn't a very likely scenario. But you were feeling feisty tonight, so you leaped forward, whipping your sword in one of the male's ways.

The fight was fairly brutal, and to your advantage, three of the males fled. Leaving you to deal with only two of them. Swords, daggers, punches, kicks, nails—you name it. "You bitch!", one of them cursed as your nails dug into his eyes after he tried to pin you down against the wall. You let out a bitter laugh and said, "Say that again. I liked it."

You knocked one of them down with a kick to the head. Yet in your rather distracted state, you didn't catch the other male running at you with a sword in his hand. You dodged the blow, but it still cut through your side, making you growl, but with adrenaline in your body, that only made you more vicious, and in no time he was on the ground as well.

You were walking up from the dungeons when the boys winnowed back into the house, still talking among themselves. They didn't even notice you, and you hope it would stay like that. "Y/N?", Rhys said, making you turn to the three of them. The hood was still on your head, covering your bruised face. However, if your dark clothes hid the color of the blood that soaked your body, your hands were a clear indicator of what you'd been up to tonight.

"Dealt with the thieves. There were at least five of them. I managed to bring two to the dungeons for Azriel's interrogations. The other three ran away. But don't worry, I'll go back to the city tomorrow and find them," your words were calculated and almost robotic as you spoke them. You knew the scolding was going to come next, so without giving it a chance to appear, you turned around, forgetting that your left side had a cut running all across, causing you to whine under your breath.

Someone pulled your hood down from the back before turning your back to the three batboys that stood in the living room with crossed arms as they glared at you. "I told you to check it out. Not to try and get yourself killed", Rhys said as he walked closer. "I did what had to be done at the moment," you snapped back, ready to turn away again, but it was Azriel who was standing by your side, gently gripping your forearms.

"You're bleeding," but you didn't meet his eyes. You didn't dare to, so you just mumbled, "Not mine and that", you pointed to your lip before cracking a smile, "It's not considered bleeding". But it's as if Azriel had an intuition. A feeling. Something inside of him told him where exactly your injuries were, and his hand came into contact with the left side of your body before he pressed his palm there. Hand turning a deep shade of red from the blood, you were still losing. You let out a roar from the pain that shot through your body, nails digging into the shadow singer's arms. Azriel only tilted his head to the side before giving you one of his looks that usually had a man running away.

"Get a healer, Rhys," Azriel said, taking one look at his brother before moving to gently scoop you up in his arms. "I don't need a healer. I don't have vital injuries", "What you don't have is the right to talk back", you wanted to snarl some more at him but you just shut your mouth. For the first time since you came back, you started to feel lightheaded. Potentially the adrenaline left your body and the blood loss that you carelessly ignored, finally was catching up with you.

The spymaster quickly carried you to his room, hoping and praying to the gods he believed that his brother would return in no time with proper help. Azriel patched soldiers up in camps. But you weren't just a soldier, and from the lack of color in your face, the blood loss was his worst enemy now.

"I'm going to cut open your shirt so I could get close to the wound", not a single muscle in your body flinched as Azriel ripped the material that had already stuck to your skin, "You sure it's not just your inner fantasies to see me naked", you waited for him to banter back but his face only darkened as he pulled out a clean shirt to press to the open cut. It was slowly healing; he couldn't deny that, but for some reason, Azriel's worries didn't ease.

"So, when will the shouting start?", Azriel only clenched his jaw and said, "It won't start. I'm worried, not mad." Even if his voice suggested otherwise, his eyes spoke the truth. He was still pressing the scrunched-up material to the cut, trying to stop the bleeding, which for some reason didn't want to ease up. "It frustrates me that you're so careless", "Come on, this is nothing, Az."

But the male let out a bitter chuckle before shaking his head, "Yeah, you bleeding out on my bed might be nothing to you, but it's not nothing to me", his voice was much lower now, more weary and concerned. "I'll get you new sheets", "I don't give a fuck about the sheets dammit, I want you... I need you to be okay." This was the first time you met his eyes, which looked frantic and scared. You noticed his trembling hands and the way his breathing was shallow. He was worried sick. The male, who barely showed emotion, was slowly falling apart in front of you.

You moved your bloody hand to rest on top of his before giving it a light squeeze just as the doors opened and Madja rushed in. The verdict that you needed stitches was brought up after one look that the healer took at the cut. You protested. You could hide the pain. You could handle the sting of a tonic but not the pain of stitches. Just the thought of the needle being pierced through your skin...

But Madja was already moving you to the side, and your eyes filled with tears. Yet not even a second later, you felt the bed dip. Azriel placed your head on his lap before taking both of your hands into his and said, "Take a deep breath in; Rhys will take the pain away", your teary eyes looked up at the spymaster, and he leaned closer, pressing a kiss on top of your head. Azriel was there from the first poke of the needle to the antibacterial tonic that was being rubbed onto the cut. Holding you up so Madja could wrap your middle up with a badge and making sure you were comfortable between the fresh sheets.

He was lying on the side of the bed next to you as you looked at each other. Even if you knew that you needed to sleep, you couldn't bring yourself to close your eyes when Azriel was this close to you. "Try to get some sleep," he said, still clutching your hand, "Thank you for looking after me," a smile crept onto his face.

"Even if you didn't have to," Azriel gaped at you once again before moving to run a hand through your hair. "You're awfully stubborn, you know?", you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a whine, yet you smirked anyways, "Well, what will you do about it?", your eyes didn't leave Azriel's even for a moment, "I guess I'll just have to love you the way you are."

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

All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #acotar x reader

1K notes · View notes

florenceafternoon · 6 months

Text

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

I ain’t missing you at all (requires an ao3 account) by @blitheringmcgonagall

Set post first wizarding war. "Lily Evans disappeared just when the war with Voldemort ended. Nobody knows why she left. James Potter doesn't care. He hasn't missed her at all."

It reads like a character study. All of the repressed emotions are so well-portrayed that I could picture all their facial expressions and body language. The dynamic between Lily and the marauders really illustrated how she wasn't just James' girlfriend - she was their friend too. I just wanted to give them all a hug.

Up In Arms by @mppmaraudergirl

When Lily jokingly tells her owl to deliver a letter to "the love of her life", i.e. Marlene McKinnon, her owl misinterprets the directive and, to her horror, her ode to James Potter’s arms lands squarely in his lap.

The banter in this one is so good that it made my friend fall back in love with jily's dynamic and read fics again

Evergreen and Pine by @tinyluminaryzombie

Lily Evans is stuck in a closet with Sirius. All Sirius wants to talk about is exactly what she's trying not to think about: James Potter.

Or: A seven minutes in heaven that's more like seven minutes of sweet sweet interegation ft. Lily and Sirius.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by @jfleamont

Lily's an overthinker, but fear not, James knows exactly what to say to cheer her up.

Because Lily being a stress smoker is canon (to me)

All The Things I Would Do also by @/ jfleamont

Lily can't stop thinking about James' hands.

Anything Leda writes is great so do yourself a favour and go read her works

I’ve Got My Hate to Keep Me Warm by @dizzy–bird

When a mission for the Order goes badly wrong, Lily Evans must spend the holidays lying low in the middle of nowhere. The rules: no magic, no visitors, and absolutely no Christmas cheer.

And the kicker? She’s sharing the safe house with Order darling – and rival – James Potter, who just happens to be the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.

Kat's poem from 10 Things I Hate About You

Hemispheres by @ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter and Lily Evans have set aside their schoolyard animosities for the sake of the Order of the Phoenix, but when they are enlisted to race Lord Voldemort across the world to prevent him from corrupting the very nature of death, tensions run high. In all manners.

Lily's characterisation in this one is so good

No One Knows Us by @annasghosts

As Fifth Year begins, Lily Evans is certain of a few things: she’s proud to be a Muggle-born witch, despite what Petunia might think; Severus Snape is still a loyal friend and whatever confusing feelings she has as she watches James Potter strut around the castle must be squashed because he’s nothing, but an arrogant toerag.

In which Lily gets the dynamic character treatment that she deserves.

51 Minutes to Change Your Mind by @sosohh

When Muggle-Born Oliver Wood becomes an extremely successful cyclist for the British Cycling team, both muggle and magical ministries have to come up with a plan to make sure all is fair. Enter James Potter and Lily Evans.

The Art of Self-Defense by cgner (on ao3)

Gilmore Girls AU in which "after seventeen years of single parenting, she now has to manage a persistent James, nosy villagers, and a son who's all too interested in joining the Order."

#for everyone tired of lily getting sidelined #this one is for you #jily #jily fic rec #jple #lily evans #james potter

127 notes · View notes

lanalvrr · 2 months

Text

Lost Letters to a Lover

Part 2

Annie was boarding the train, and she was nervous. Right before she left, she had mailed delivered from John egan. She planned to read it on the train.

She was sitting alone, hoping to meet another nurse at thorpeabbots. She planned on reading the note when the train started, but fell asleep.

When she woke up, she didn't know how long she fell asleep for, but got the note from John out. Write as she found it from her bag the train stopped. She must've never felt it slow down. The woman started standing up and getting off. She quickly closed her bag, picked it up, and grabbed the letter. She didn't have time to put it back in the bag. She wouldn't have time to set the bag down and put it in there. If people weren't already looking at the note, they were now. The envelope had a fawn with bright red flowers at its feet, and the flowers were eye-catching.

John egan was standing with Buck watching all the new nurses walk in a line, checking in. It made him think of annie, hoping she was safe, and got his letter. He loved putting beautiful postage stamps on, hoping she noticed. The recent letter he had written had a fawn with bright red flowers at the bottom, very eye-catching.

Annie was standing in line waiting, and she noticed it was a long line. Around 17 women I front of her, and 3 behind her. She opened the envelope john had sent amd began reading.

Darling,

I hope you're fine with me calling you, darling, for if I ever see you again, I will be calling you that. You gotta help me with some other names. What about my girl, doll, or sugar. Any would suit you.

I hope you made it to your base safely and make some friends. I understand your friends with marge but you'll have to meet some other people.

Your photo was lovely, Marge is great at capturing your beauty.

Yours truly, John

You hadn't realized you were so close to check-in until now. You looked around after folding the note back into the envelope and noticed a tall man looking at you confused.

John was looking at a woman reading a note, seeing the envelope had the same postage stamp he had sent Annie. He looked up at her face, and she was smiling. He was confused. She looked so familiar. That's when it hit him. He aggressively tapped Buck's shoulder and pointed at the woman. "Buck, buck, it's her, it's Annie!" Buck looked to where he was pointing and realizing.

Annie saw the man pointing. He looked so familiar, yet she couldn't put her finger on it.

After Annie checked in, she was greeted with a woman who seemed to have been here for a lot longer than she had. "Hi, I'm Vivienne! I noticed you're looking a little lost, I'm guessing you have no friends here yet. So here I am!" The girl said. Annie just smiled. " I'm Annie, thanks it's nice to know I have a friend already." Annie said, thinking about what John had said.

#mota #john egan #callum turner #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #gale cleven #Spotify

62 notes · View notes

twilightcitysky · 2 years

Text

My daughter is four. She came home from school and told me she was playing a game called “Princess Gets Rescued From a Tower”. The kid of two feminists, living in a liberal city in a blue state, at the age of four, has internalized the idea that princesses need rescuing.

I did four years of residency in ObGyn and three years of residency in Psychiatry. I am an MD and a practicing psychiatrist. I don’t have the bandwidth to look at the numbers right now, but I will tell you from personal experience with hundreds and hundreds of patients that women are the strong ones. Most of the babies of teen girls I delivered had no support apart from their own mothers. I wrote “father of baby not involved” in the chart more times than I can count. Most of the pregnancy terminations I performed were for girls and women on their own. Nothing made me feel like I’d made more of a difference than providing a desired termination for a teenager and placing her IUD. Now that girl gets to continue her education, develop her frontal lobe, and decide who she wants to be and what she wants to do. She doesn’t have to be a baby trying to raise a baby. She doesn’t have to be another cog in a system that perpetuates the cycle of poverty in order to keep women and people of color from working towards equality, equity, fairness and real change.

Make no mistake. The overturning of Roe vs. Wade today is not about saving the lives of the unborn. It is about control of women’s bodies and agency, particularly poor women without the resources to travel out of state for a pregnancy termination. Women are meant to be property. Don’t believe me? How many letters have I received addressed to “Mrs. Husband’s First Name – Husband’s Last Name” instead of “Dr. My First Name – My Last Name”? How many people think my kids have their dad’s last name, because he’s the man and when you get married you’re supposed to give up your identity? Yes, it’s only a name. Yes, it’s tradition. But try speaking up against it— even that one, small thing— and see how much resistance you run into.

Now women want more than our own names. We want to be paid the same as our male colleagues. We want our voices to be heard in legislation and government. We’d even like to be the president someday. At bare minimum, we’d like to decide the timing and circumstances of when we become parents, because women still carry the majority of responsibility for raising children today, with rare exceptions. We are on a tightrope with no safety net, because there’s so little in the way of institutional support for people who end up with a baby to support and no way to put food on the table.

People who are thinking about how to get from one day to the next aren’t in the streets protesting. People who are terrified that they’ll be beaten or raped by their partner aren’t rallying for change. People who are trying to raise a child on a minimum wage salary with no parental leave benefits, without any sort of support, aren’t getting an education. People who are working two jobs to keep a roof over their heads aren’t voting.

And that’s the goal.

The princess in the tower may need a rescue now, but ask yourself who put her there. Ask yourself who robbed her of the tools to escape, because she’s strong and capable. If you’re a woman, stay safe. If you’re a woman of privilege, help your sisters. If you’re a man, speak up for us. And if there’s any part of you who feels that this is a move that will help any human beings at all, including the unborn children who are the proposed beneficiaries, I cheerfully invite you to get fucked. Nobody wins when women are forced to have kids they can’t or don’t want to support. Not them, not the kids… and not you.

#roe v wade #roe versus wade #roe vs. wade #current events #news #abortion rights #reproductive rights #reproductive freedom #womens rights #unbelieveable #the backlash is here

2K notes · View notes

moony-mari · 11 months

Text

Isn't it strange - Charles Leclerc

charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: loosely based on strange by celeste warnings: Angst, fluff a/n: my first fic… I have so many more ideas. This was just a warm up!

It was a huge cliche the way you and charles met way back in 2019. It was his first day at the ferrari factory and he was running late. Coffee in hand he ran towards the building entrance failing to notice the girl walking out of doors, spilling everything onto her ferrari polo.

He was completely frozen before he snapped back into reality reaching for his ferrari jumper to dry the shirt. Apologies spewing from his mouth continuously but all you did was stop him and tried to tell him it was alright and he should head inside for his meeting as he was already late he gave you his jumper and ran inside one thought playing on his mind. He never got your name

He never saw you again until the next race you spotted him and made your way over returning his washed and dry jumper as you were about to turn around he asked you if you would like to get coffee as a thanks. You laughed and told him to promise he wouldn't spill it on you again his eyes lit up and he joined your laughter.

The rest was history.

One coffee date led to many many more until he finally asked you to be his girlfriend after his win at monza all of a sudden it was your 1 year anniversary and you couldn't be happier. Charles was the sweetest most considerate boyfriend you’d ever had. He put all his effort into making you happy when he was not racing. He took you on dates that no one could compare to, he made sure you were always safe and comfortable when in public and most importantly he supported you in your career as you worked through the ferrari engineering internship.

So when you got a job offer to work at Mclaren for the 2021 season as their main engineer you thought he would be happy for you as this was not only a massive step in your career but also for women in engineering and motorsport. How wrong you were.

You opened the door and walked to the kitchen bursting to tell him the news. That was until he shoved the letter across the countertop with a look of betrayal on his face. Your smile dropped as you saw the mclaren logo at the front.

He shook his head and began to laugh in disbelief. You tried to explain that you’d still be in the paddock but he wouldn't have any of your answers. He claimed you going to mclaren wasn't necessary as they were not doing well and ferrari was better, he even told you that you didn't need to work at all and he could provide for you saying engineering wasn't meant for women and how mclaren only hired you to make them look good.

Tears fell down your face as you looked at him in disbelief. A scoff escaped your lips as you brushed passed him to gather all your things from his apartment. charles not understanding why you were leaving despite telling him multiple times. Once you got to the door charles was still so sure he didn't do anything wrong so you left and never looked back.

Radio silence. Nothing from charles. All of your messages were left on delivered. The season has ended and you were officially announced as lando’s main engineer. Praise came from the whole team and from across the whole paddock. Everyone except the one person you wanted praise from.

The last straw was when he brought another girl with him. It was like a knife stabbed you in the heart as you saw them walk past the mclaren garage. you always thought you’d get back together. A tap on your shoulder brought you back to reality, when you turned around you were met by lando who smiled at you “don't worry love you’ll find someone who appreciates you now come on smile for me i can't have my main girl being sad now can i?” he asked as you smiled for him and laughed when he cheered unnecessarily loud.

Unbeknownst to you charles watched the whole interaction bitterness filled his heart as he watched you laugh with someone else he knows he's to blame for losing you but he can't quite grasp it yet his eyes finally breaking away from the mclaren garage as he walked away

You had just finished debrief and walked out of the mclaren garage, suddenly your shirt was wet as you looked up, your eyes locked with his. He offered you his jumper but this time you declined, smiling at him pulling a mclaren hoodie out of your bag. It truly was the end

#f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x female reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #ferrari f1

258 notes · View notes

television-overload · 25 days

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 27/34 - roll of film

[Read on AO3]

Scully’s mom stays until dinner, and promises to stop by with some meals for their freezer once they’ve settled in at home. As soon as Scully had returned, they’d behaved as if their conversation had never happened, and Mulder tried to put it out of his mind. Whatever Scully may or may not feel for him isn’t the most important thing right now. She needs him to be focused, to help her with the baby. He knows himself—he’s a one-track mind kind of guy. The last thing he wants is for her to think he can’t handle this just because he’s distracted by something else.

Before she leaves, Maggie goes down to the gift shop and purchases a disposable camera and a plush fox with the softest fur Mulder has ever felt. He smiles at her joke, introducing the animal to a wide eyed Madeline who clearly doesn’t know what to make of it.

Grandma Maggie then spends the next thirty minutes or so taking pictures of everything and everyone until the entire roll of film is full. She insists on taking several of all three of them together, in various poses, which she assures them they will thank her for one day. It reminds Mulder of the time they’d had to take pretend pictures for their undercover assignment in California, only this is on another level.

He wonders what the film will reveal when it gets developed. Will the poses be stiff and forced, like they had been in Arcadia? Or would it look real? Would an unknown observer believe them to be a normal family, if they didn’t know any better?

He finds himself hoping so. He’s tired of pretending. So, so tired.

He walks Maggie down to the entrance of the hospital, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. All things considered, their surprise had gone over fairly well. It remained to be seen how the rest of the Scully clan would react, but at least they had the matron of the family on their side.

In this way, maybe it was a good thing the IVF hadn’t worked. There would have certainly been a threatening letter headed his way if he’d actually impregnated Scully, however clinically they had accomplished it.

“Drive safe, Mrs. Scully,” he says, the automatic doors sliding open as they approach.

“Maggie,” she reminds him, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

He nods. “Maggie.”

He expects her to go, then, but instead she turns to face him, pulling him into a motherly hug. It surprises him at first, but his mind quickly catches up and he returns the embrace.

“You tell her how you feel,” she says softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze before pulling back. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, and her eyes shine brightly at him with a fondness that makes his heart feel warm and fuzzy. “Okay? She deserves to hear it.”

He doesn’t want to commit either way, so as not to disappoint her, so instead of responding, he merely presses his lips together and gives a sheepish nod/shrug combo.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me today,” she says. “You take care of my girl, alright?”

This, he can agree to without question.

“Always.”

She gives one final nod, then reaches up to press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles, unused to this kind of motherly affection, but glad to receive it.

“Bye, Maggie.”

“Goodbye, Fox. I’ll see you soon.”

-.-.-

By the time he gets back to their room, dinner has been delivered, and Scully is giving Maddie another bottle. He’d feel bad eating without her, so instead he walks to the window, peeking out at the golden hue that the sun is starting to cast on the otherwise boring landscape. He sighs, pulling out his cell phone and hovering his thumb over the keypad. Maggie Scully gave him a lot to think about.

He punches in the number he knows by heart and waits as the tone sounds once, twice, and a third time before the line connects.

“Hello?”

"Hey, Mom," he says. In his periphery, he can see Scully’s head turn toward him, but he tries to ignore her watchful gaze, instead focusing on the people down below in the parking lot.

"Fox?"

"Yeah, how you feeling? You doing okay?" He really does not know how to start this conversation, but he doesn’t want to put it off any longer. Small talk with his mother is among the most uncomfortable things he can imagine, but it’s really all they know how to do these days. Maybe they’ll get better at it with practice.

"I'm doing fine,” she answers. “What is it?"

"Sorry if I’m interrupting your dinner,” he says, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “I can call tomorrow if that's better."

He hears the rejection before she even says it. "I have an appointment tomorrow. What’s this about?"

"Right, um." He pauses, pacing to the right into the darkened corner of the room and then back toward the window. "I just wanted to let you know that, uh– Scully and I decided to adopt a baby. She was born this morning, we're with her now."

"Scully?"

"My partner,” he states. “At the FBI."

"Right, yes. You… adopted a baby?" She sounds understandably confused, probably wondering many of the same things Mrs. Scully had asked about, though without the same level of investment in their answers.

"Yeah, uh, it's kind of been in the works for a while. And—" he pauses again, glancing back at Scully from across the room. "We got married."

The other end of the line is silent and for a moment, he begins to wonder if the connection went dead. But he can just hear the faint ticking of that irritating cuckoo clock in the kitchen that he’d always hated, so she must still be listening.

"To help with the application process, you know," he adds, as if that made their actions any more comprehensible to a rational human being.

"That's– wonderful news, Fox,” she says at last. “I didn't realize that was something you were interested in pursuing."

"Well, with everything going on, there wasn't really a good time to tell you," he says, letting out a sigh of relief now that the secret was out. "But, we're really happy."

"That's– that's good to hear."

He remembers how she’d wanted him to let go of Samantha—to make a life for himself outside of the search for his sister. He hopes she’ll be proud of him now that he’s doing just that.

Even if she isn’t, and can’t be there for him like he wishes she was, he’ll be happy. He has a family of his own now, and his mother is alive. That’s all he can really ask for. They can work on mending fences in the coming months, even if it’s slow going. The important thing is that he didn’t lose her. Not yet.

"Well, I should let you go,” he says awkwardly, the stale silences between sentences making him increasingly anxious the longer he spends on the phone. “I just thought you should know you have a granddaughter. Madeline is her name."

"Madeline,” his mother repeats. “I'm glad you called. Give my regards to– to–"

"Dana," he fills in.

"Yes, give my regards to Dana."

He goes to hang up the phone, his finger hovering over the end call button, but before he can, he hears a final, "Oh, and Fox?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever decide to make a trip up the coast..."

She trails off, and he senses that she doesn't possess the words to finish that sentence, even if she means them. Reaching out to him has always been hard for her. He has to meet her halfway.

"I'm sure we will soon," he says, a hint of a promise in his words.

"I'd like that," she says, and it really does sound like she means it.

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Fox. Congratulations."

With a distinct click, the line disconnects, and he snaps his phone shut, frozen in deep thought.

“How did it go?” Scully asks from behind him.

“She's thrilled,” he answers.

“Really?”

He chuckles. “As thrilled as my mother can be about anything, I think.”

“Ah.”

He looks at the two of them there, Scully and Madeline, and pictures them sitting on the couch in his mother’s living room. It’s not as crazy to imagine as he thought it might have been. Maybe his mom would bake those lemon cookies he and Samantha used to like when they were kids. Maybe Scully could squeeze the recipe out of her, and he could learn to bake them himself.

“Hey– how would you feel about going to visit her someday?” he asks, trying to keep the question casual in case she has no interest in doing any such thing.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, looking at him with a sympathetic eye. “She's your mother. Of course I'd like to go.”

He plays it cool, but her answer warms his heart. None of Scully’s interactions with his mother have been particularly pleasant, even the most recent one, and sometimes he feels that she got the raw end of the deal. While he has gained a loving mother-in-law who is sure to spoil their baby rotten, Scully gets a broken family that has been almost completely eradicated by a shadowy government organization. He wishes he had something better to offer her.

“Not scared of the dreaded mother-in-law?” he asks, hoping it comes across as teasing instead of revealing the insecurity he truly feels.

To his relief, she smiles. “I can handle her,” she says.

Yes. Yes she can.

-.-.-

By 9:00 p.m., the exhaustion of such a long and eventful day had started to catch up to them. It had been a challenge to keep Madeline up for the last hour or so, but Scully insisted that she needed to get started on a sleep schedule as soon as possible, and she had read every recommendation in every book, so he deferred to her expertise.

Now that it has officially been declared bedtime, however, Maddie seems determined to stay up, too busy looking at her surroundings with great interest.

“Here, do you want to try to get her to sleep?” Scully asks, shifting the baby in her arms. “She just keeps staring at me, like she's not even tired.”

Mulder gladly agrees, setting down the book he had been reading on the table he was sitting at. “You know what they say. Those who can't do, teach. And I can never sleep.”

Scully laughs, raising Maddie up as high as she can without standing to make the transfer easier.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Mulder says, reaching for the infant and lifting her into his arms. It takes some adjusting, but once her blankets are all smoothed out, her tiny body relaxes into the cradle of his arms.

Scully was right. Her eyes are wide open, just taking in everything around her.

“You gotta close your eyes if you want to sleep, darlin’,” Mulder coos, bouncing her back and forth in what he hopes is a sleep-inducing motion.

“At least she's not crying,” Scully points out, watching them with a smile on her face.

“Nah, she's happy as a clam. Aren't you, Maddie?” he says.

She sneezes in response.

“Bless you!” Scully says, laughing. “Mulder, make sure the blanket isn't tickling her nose.”

He adjusts it down below her chin, smiling at the confused expression on her little face.

“That was the tiniest sneeze I've ever heard, Scully,” Mulder says in awe, love practically dripping from his voice. He runs a finger over the baby’s warm, rosy cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin.

He can't help it, he cranes his neck down to reach her, pressing his lips to the squishy baby fat of her cheek, dropping near endless kisses there.

“Her cheeks are just so kissable,” he says, laughing at himself.

“You're riling her up, Mulder,” Scully says disapprovingly, though her smile says something else. “Now she's wide awake.”

She stands, taking the few steps over to where he's standing and presses a kiss of her own to Madeline’s cheek.

“You're right, though,” she speaks.

When she looks up at him, he takes a chance, bending to brush his lips against her cheek, dangerously close to her lips.

“Your cheeks are pretty kissable too, Scully,” he says as he pulls back, delighted to see said cheeks turning ever so slightly pink in the dim light.

He can’t tell her, not yet. But that doesn’t mean he can’t show her. Maybe once she’s collected enough evidence, she’ll come to the right conclusion on her own. She is a woman of science, after all.

They look down at the little infant in his arms, and breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief when they see her start to heavy blink. Mulder finds that walking her around in circles helps, so he does a number of laps around the room, checking with each lap to see if he’s been successful yet.

By lap six, her eyes have fallen shut, and a moment later, her soft breaths even out. With all the carefulness of defusing a bomb, he sets her down in her plastic bassinet, and feels immense pride when she doesn’t immediately wake up and ruin all the progress he’d made. She shifts a little, and then settles, a look of pure contentment on her face.

Scully comes up to stand beside him, both peering down at the little girl who will be theirs to love and cherish for the rest of their lives.

“You know, I always felt like something was missing, but I didn’t know what it was,” Mulder muses, his voice a mere whisper. “Is it crazy if I say it was a baby?”

Scully’s lips pull back in a soft smile, and she leans her head on his bicep, unable to tear her eyes away from the sleeping child.

“It’s not crazy, Mulder,” she says, intertwining her hand with his. “I think you’re right. This is exactly what we’ve been missing.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

42 notes · View notes

lost-between-letters · 1 year

Text

Breaking Point

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @maddiebwrites

Word Count: 1,668

Warnings: blood and gore, violence, ANGST, death, spoilers for season 11 because mentioned characters

Summary: Hunting ghosts was nothing new for the three of them. Still, Dean had a horrible feeling about this one that he couldn't shake ... he should have listened to his gut

A/N: me delivering a request half a year too late? Sounds about right. This is one of the angstiest pieces I have written so far so be warned

It was supposed to be a harmless little ritual.

Sure, Y/N was the one to start it - a random salt and burn where she had reached for his hand the very second before they entered the kill zone. Her fingers had weaved between Dean's easily and held onto him for the duration of the hunt. He was pretty sure that only her grip on him had ensured that they got out of there alive.

So, since then, it was Dean's lucky charm. Whenever a hunt was made out to be risky (for their standards), he took the time to squeeze Y/N's fingers until she was laughing and demanding him to stop. Made him feel calmer. Grounded. Sam would say he was reassuring himself of her presence by reaching out to touch - and Dean thought it was exactly that. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

But this hunt was easy right from the beginning. They knew what attacked the vics, the M.O. was more than accurately pointing to a bunch of restless spirits that the men of letters had encountered before, and most importantly, Y/N and Sam were right by his side.

Still, Dean couldn't shake the queasy feeling that had settled deep in his stomach the moment they had gotten out of the car. He hated it with a burning passion. His damn gut was always right, and today, it was telling him to pack Y/N and Sam up and get the hell away from this crap house.

Obviously, that wasn't an option - people were in danger, and Dean would sooner make amends with Zachariah than let innocents die because he got a tummy ache. At least he could hack into some spirits. To take the tension out of his brain or whatever.

"Dean?" Y/N glanced back, rifle slung over her shoulder, "you okay?"

He didn't even have to fake the smile that hard. His girl with a gun she could use with her eyes closed. Jesus, that shouldn't be as hot as it was. "Just peachy, Sweetheart."

She chuckled. Then, she took a closer look at his face and paused. Thought for a moment. Reached behind herself without looking. "Just take my hand. You know you want to, I know you want to, and Sam is checking out the building. Your masculinity is safe with me."

"You know how to sweet talk a man, baby." Dean aimed for sarcasm, but her hand was a solid weight in his palm, and she was looking at him with those eyes, and yeah, maybe he should shut up now.

"A kiss for good luck, too?" He asked innocently (as if her presence wasn't the best good luck charm he could ever get).

Surprised laughter spilt through her composure, and Y/N leaned closer.

"That can be arranged."

Unfortunately, it was nothing more but a short peck as Sam rounded the last corner.

"They're in the back," he informed them, breath coming shorter than usual. And then - "One's been following me."

So yeah, it got pretty hectic from there. Dean lost Y/N's hand when she aimed and shot a round of rocksalt into the spirit threatening to take Sam's heart. In the literal sense. Yikes.

With the first one fended off, the rest was quick to follow. They had to burn the bodies asap.

"You got a look on the graves?" Dean shouted in the general vicinity of his brother.

Bitchface nr. 53 hit him. "Behind the building!"

"Y/N!"

"Right here." Her shotgun dissolved the ghost that apparently had been about to jump his back.

Huh, still a turn-on when his girl was being badass. But Dean had more important things to focus on. "You gonna help me dig up some corpses?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she replied with a savage grin and grabbed for his hand again.

With only one arm each to defend themselves, they made their way to the backyard.

Dean could already see the graves when he felt Y/N's hand being torn out of his grip.

He swerved just fast enough to shoot the ghost of an english gentleman in the stomach that had been twisting Y/N's arms to the breaking point.

She fell forward with a gasp and Dean caught her just before the ground received a round of kisses.

"'ve got some bodies to burn," Y/N said through her teeth as she pulled herself back upwards.

"Let's get to digging then."

It was no use distinguishing the graves - there were maybe seven of them and six ghosts swarming them, so Dean went straight for the first one. No matter which bones they burned, it'd be the right ones.

For now, they were alone, so they went to work in grim silence - thankfully, an old shed supplied them with rusty shovels. Soon, they both were drenched in sweat.

They collected the bones in a messy pile. If they wanted to haunt them together, they should burn together.

Dean stood in the last grave as Y/N pulled the lighter fluid out of her jacket.

"Let's burn some ghosts, baby," she said with a wink and flipped the zippo open.

Dean watched the bones turn up in flames from his lower viewpoint - they illuminated a wild grin on Y/N's face while the fire was crackling and distant screeches tore through the night.

Only that one was closer than the rest.

It was all the warning Dean got before Y/N disappeared from his line of vision, a smoldering cloud in her place.

She screamed like he had never heard her scream before.

Dean was out of the grave in seconds, gun in his hand, and aimed at the grey smoke. But he couldn't shoot anything, Y/N was right in the center of whatever this ghost was becoming.

And made noises Dean never wanted to hear again. That was the worst part of it all - he couldn’t see a thing beside the burning remains and the smoking creature that was wrapped around his girl.

With the next scream of pain, he grabbed the nearest iron, and stabbed it into the burning ghost.

It disappeared with a hiss and destruction in its path.

"Y/N?" Dean whispered and fell to his knees next to her crumpled form. Her clothes were burnt, there were ashes all over her skin, and blood ran down her neck. It coated her shirt.

There was so much blood that Dean was afraid to even touch her.

She couldn't -

"Dean?" Her voice was scratchy and nothing more than an exhale, but he heard her.

That was all that it took. She was alive. Breathing and talking to him. He couldn't see where she was hurt, but it couldn't be that bad if she was still talking. Even if her shirt was wet with her blood. They could fix it.

Dean all but crumpled over her, his hands reaching to cup her face. "I got you, sweetheart. We're gonna get you out of here and we're gonna get Cas to heal you up and-"

"Baby." Cold hands wrapped around his heart in time with her hand covering his own. It shook from the exertion of raising it, her facr paling under all the blood.

He refused to listen to his gut once more tonight. "No. You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you out of this goddamn graveyard and you're gonna get a nice warm blanket-"

"You're the strongest person I ever met, do you know that?" Y/N grimaced but reached up to put her hand on his heart. "And I don't mean the physical part alone. You're kind and caring despite everything that happened to you, you never think of yourself first - you're the best man this world has to offer. And I'm so grateful that I could call you mine."

"Stop." He didn't recognise the voice that came from his lips.

But Y/N did, and she didn't listen. There were tears running down her face, washing off the blood, and she would be looking just fine if it weren't for the pale skin that it revealed.

"I love you so much." Her voice broke, and she hissed in pain. But she kept going. "Nd I'm going to give Chuck hell until you come and join me."

"Please-"

Dean knew that he was begging on a lost cause. Perhaps he had known from the moment that he heard her scream. That didn't mean that he had to take it lying down. He wouldn't lose her, not to a ghost - not to anything.

So he started praying to every angel he knew, commanding them, bargaining with them, flat out begging them to heal her.

No one came.

And Y/N kept talking.

"Don't let this break you. The world needs you, Dean - I need you to stay alive and yourself. Please don't let me break you." The words had dwindled down to nothing more than soft breaths she squeezed out between flashes of pain.

"Sweetheart, I-"

Her grip on his hand relaxed, and the hand on his heart fell down. On her own unmoving chest.

Y/N wasn't breathing anymore.

Dean gripped her hand, pressed it against his chest again. Praying that something else was happening. Anything else than reality. "Please, Y/N, don't do this. We can fix this, sweetheart, c'mon, show me your eyes."

Water dripped down on her unmoving cheeks - Dean was crying.

"Look at me, baby. Please"

It was no use. Y/N didn't start breathing again. Her blood didn't stop seeping into his jeans where he was kneeling, and she didn't open her eyes.

Don't let me break you.

What she hadn't known was, that he had always been broken - way before they met. Dean was nothing but a pile of sharp edges of broken hopes and jagged pieces of lost dreams. And with her last breath, Y/N had ripped the bandages off that held them in place.

The world would pay for what it did to her.

Dean would make sure of it.

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideee, @fandomfoodiedancer, @lovesfandoms, @nyotamalfoy, @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry

Dean Taglist: @tiggytaylor, @akshi8278, @mrsjenniferwinchester , @mrspeacem1nusone, @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes , @AlohaStitch0626, @jayheartswritting, @cinderellacauseshebroke , @xoxokiaraaxoxo @theslawster @thecubanator2

Join a Taglist

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #supernatural fic #supernatural

264 notes · View notes

whositmcwhatsit · 8 months

Text

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 11: To Know Him is to Love Him

A/N: I'm so sorry to anyone who still enjoys this or even remembers it! I deeply appreciate you taking the time to share it with me. If writing is an act of communication, consider this a love letter from a bruised and broken heart.

Thank you as ever to @thatbanditqueen for supreme alpha services. Grammar fixes, clarification, cheerleading, and tough love, she's got it all.

Gratitude to my fellow Elvis nerds/sister wives: @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @from-memphis-with-love, @missmaywemeetagain, @peskybedtime, @lookingforrainbows for letting me sit by their brilliance and share its reflection.

Previous Chapter

The phone started ringing just as Chancy returned from overseeing a final fitting for a cotillion dress. The mother had made passive aggressive comments throughout about how she hoped it fit, because Chancy’s departure for the tour had meant that there was no time to make any major adjustments before the ball.

Luckily, the girl had not given in to her mother’s sideways criticisms or helpful hints on how to starve herself, so the dress fit perfectly and Chancy was walking across the parking lot of the strip mall, rubbing her cheek muscles to compensate for the fake stretched smile she had to wear, when her assistant Lynette came to her side and said her grandmother was on the phone and it sounded important.

Chancy went straight to the office at the back and snatched up the receiver.

“Grandma?”

“Oh Chancy, there’s a big truck just shown up in the driveway and I… I have no idea where to put it!”

At first, Chancy thought her grandmother was crying and her spine went cold. She had never seen her grandmother cry, not when her own two children, Chancy’s mother and uncle, died far too young, and not even when she fell five years ago and broke her shoulder.

Chancy imagined that whatever had finally managed to make her cry had to be horrific. That was when she realised that Grandma was laughing, in an overwhelmed, slightly hysterical way.

“Where to put what? The truck? Grandma, what’s going on?”

“He already gave me a car, and now this.”

Chancy closed her eyes slowly and nodded to herself. Elvis, of course. Only he could provoke that kind of helpless hysteria in women of all ages.

“What’s he done now?”

“It’s a piano. He bought me a piano.” Right, the birthday present that couldn’t be delivered right away. Because it was a damn piano. “They’re saying they might need to take out the side window to get it in.”

“Get it in where?!”

“Inside the house.” Grandma’s voice sounded far away and Chancy listened to her pleading with the delivery men not to drop whatever they were snatching out of harm’s way.

Chancy rifled through her day planner, but knew that she couldn’t cancel or postpone any of the appointments because most had already been rearranged once when she rushed off to join the tour.

“Uh, will they put the window back once they’ve taken it out?” She could hear Grandma ask the question in the background and a low, rumble of an answer.

“They said they can recommend a carpenter… No, Harold said that he could probably do it as long as they leave the frame intact.”

Chancy massaged her face with her fingertips, trying to breathe out evenly.

“Okay, let them do it,” she sighed. “If- if it doesn’t work out the way Harold hopes, can you get him to make it safe at least, board it over or something? I’ll deal with it later.” She hoped she sounded confident because she had no idea how she would deal with it.

That evening, as her car bounced along the road to her house, Chancy was imagining the entire front façade of her home in rubble at the foot of her porch. She told herself that her grandmother would have probably called her again if that had happened.

At first glance the house looked intact and she let out a shaky sigh of relief. As she climbed from her car, she could hear toneless banging on the keys of a piano. She sighed and climbed the steps of the porch.

Alicia was standing in the doorway of the kitchen across the foyer, a pained smile on her face as she clasped her arms, watching her four-year-old daughter ‘play’ the new piano.

The piano itself was a beauty, a black lacquered upright, far too large for any room in the house, especially the homely living room in which it now stood in the centre.

“Hi, we got a piano now!” Alicia said loudly over the top of the clanging.

“Yeah, I can see- hear that,” Chancy replied, nudging her out of the way so that she could get into the kitchen. Grandma and Ruth were preparing dinner and they smiled back at her as she entered.

“Well, we still have a window,” she observed, “so that’s good!”

“The boys were just wonderful in the end,” Grandma nodded. “They even helped Harold put the window back in. And you have to see the piano, Chancy!” She gripped Chancy’s arm and tugged her back into the living room.

Faye had got bored and was now watching TV on the couch, the sound of clanging replaced by cartoon sound effects. Chancy watched with a faint smile as her grandmother approached the piano, putting her hand reverentially on the lid and patting it gently.

Ever since Chancy could remember Grandma had played the piano at church, not for services, but social events and fundraisers. She couldn’t read music, but she had learnt all her favourite tunes by ear and never seemed to forget how they went. The church piano was a battered, scored, over-varnished instrument that was frequently in need of tuning. This was different.

“I wish I could call and thank him, but I don’t have a number for where to reach him,” Grandma murmured. “Maybe I should send a note. What do you think?”

“A note sounds fine,” Chancy assured her. “We can send it addressed to Charlie or Mr Presley, they’ll make sure he gets it.”

Grandma contemplated her gift a little longer.

“If you speak to him tonight, be sure and tell him thank you for me.”

“Of course, but I don’t think I will. He’s going to the movies.”

Chancy knew this because he had invited her and, when she hesitated, told her to just think about it. Then he got Charlie to call her first thing in the morning as she was leaving for work. She was beginning to feel guilty for continually making Charlie the bearer of bad news, but not guilty enough to go.

Here, now, in the sober clarity of her day-to-day life, Chancy had no intention of walking back into that situation again, no matter how well Elvis kissed. And he kissed very well. Which was why she was flagging after working on two hours of sleep. And that was just the physical repercussions of a relatively mild evening with Elvis. No, she couldn’t live like this, any entanglement with him was out of the question.

“I can’t believe you’re not going,” Alicia said, shaking her head as they ate dinner in the kitchen. “What if he meets someone at the movie theatre?”

Chancy gave her a knowing look. “I have no doubt that he will. He could meet a new girl sitting in the chair at the dentist, Ally, he’s Elvis!”

“And that doesn’t bother you? I saw the way you two were last night. Something happened on that tour, you don’t even have to tell me that.”

Chancy pulled a face and looked sideways at Grandma and Faye, trying to convey ‘shut up’ and ‘I will cut your hair in your sleep if you don’t stop talking’ with just her tired eyes.

“I’m telling you right now, the best thing that could happen for both of us is that he meets another girl at the movies tonight, okay?” She pushed away her plate. “I’m tired, I’m turning in early.”

Brushing her teeth, Chancy glared at her reflection in the mirror with its curlers, scarf and comfy brushed cotton nightdress. She knew was making the right choice taking care of herself and thinking of the future. Because whatever being around Elvis brought: excitement, extreme emotions of all kinds, and so much pleasure, it did not bring a future. She was too much of a grown up now to live the way he always had, immersed in the moment with any consequences a problem to be faced (avoided) tomorrow.

They had left things relatively friendly the night before. Hopefully, after some time, everything would go back to normal and she could return to her habit of intermittently showing up in the outer circle without being dragged too far into his orbit. Until then, she had to be strong and stay away.

Several hours later, Chancy was snatched from a dream about pianos raining from the sky by her sister grabbing her by the headscarf and whispering in a terrifying harsh voice that she had to get up right now!

“What’s going on?!” She shot up, imagining fire, burglars or sickness, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth.

“Elvis! Is downstairs!” Alicia hissed. “He just showed up out of nowhere! I look a mess and I just ran upstairs. You need to go down. Chancy!”

There was a long beat while Chancy’s body registered that there was no threat and stopped pumping her full of adrenaline, only to then realise that there was a fight or flight scenario of a different kind and release more panic in her bloodstream.

“Elvis is here?”

“Yes! C’mon, I left Grandma down there on her own with him and the guys.”

“Why’d you leave him?! You know he could just decide to walk on up here by himself! Dammit!” Chancy tugged off her scarf and stumbled out of bed as she yanked out the large curlers, as well as a fair amount of her own hair.

Alicia darted off to her own room to try and make herself more presentable, while Chancy threw off her nightdress and pulled on an A-line minidress, trying to brush her hair and apply eye make up at the same time.

Tugging on some underwear, she hastily brushed her teeth again and padded across the hallway to the top of the stairs. To her left she could hear Alicia blow-drying her hair. Faye’s door stood open as well. It looked as though Elvis’ arrival had managed to wake everyone apart from her; she wondered what that said about her.

As she tempered her speed to at least pretend to be casual while she descended the stairs, the sound of the piano began to resonate through the creaking old house. Not Faye’s inexperienced clanging this time, but the measured and careful tones of someone who drew such overwhelming joy from the keys that they had to touch them sparingly.

As soon as she heard voices begin harmonising on Peace in the Valley while Grandma played, Chancy sank down to peer through the bannisters. Any irritation she felt at being woken at- she checked the hall clock- 1AM- dissipated at the sound.

Elvis was leaning into the lower notes like he always did on this song and it made her stomach clench as she focused on his voice over the others. It was magic, the things he could do to her with just his voice alone. She rubbed her arms to stop the goosebumps from tingling and then wrapped them around her legs as she crouched on the stairs like a child sneaking out of bed to spy on an adult party.

From her position, she could see only his back clad in a black three-quarter length coat and the bluish gloss of his hair in the lamplight as he leant on the top of the piano, looking down at Grandma.

What was he doing here? He was supposed to be at the movies falling in love with some young girl with endless legs and large, admiring eyes. She had been torturing herself with that image for most of the evening, but he never did what he was supposed to do!

Almost as if he could hear her thinking this nonsensical rant, he whirled round and leant forward so that he could see her through the doorway of the living room. His eyes obscured by his sunglasses, his cheeks brimmed and a radiant grin slid across his face as he caught her peeking through the bars of the bannisters.

He left Charlie and the others to finish the song and walked slowly across to the staircase, his footsteps alternately clomping and muffled as he crossed the floorboards scattered with an assortment of rugs.

“Naw, you weren’t really in bed,” he commented with playful derision. “What are you, eighty years old?!”

Chancy opened her eyes wide and gestured to her grandmother, who was busy accompanying Charlie during his solo. Elvis ducked his head as he laughed and pulled a sheepish face, reaching out through the bannisters to wrap his long fingers around her bare ankle.

“Well, c’mon down now, baby, we gotta try out your present.”

“Grandma’s present,” she reminded him.

“S’what I meant.” He tugged at her leg, eyebrows raising and head tilting as the motion straightened her knee and made her skirt slide up. She pretended to frown and yanked down the hem, tugging her ankle free as she stood up.

“I thought you were going to the movies,” she said, hopping down the last step.

Barefoot, she had to bend her neck to look up at him, which was when she felt the errant curler poke her in the back of the neck. Casually, she slid her hand under her hair and attempted to work it out without ripping out half her scalp.

“Yeah, we were, but I got to wondering if those guys followed through on their promise to deliver that big old sonovabitch and since I didn’t get no phone call or nothing, I figured we should check up on it.”

“Grandma doesn’t have your number,” she replied, deliberately misunderstanding his subtext. “She was going to write you a thank you letter. She’s really thrilled with the piano, though, Elvis. It was a great gift, so thoughtful.”

He shrugged and nodded diffidently, eyes boring into her even through his dark lenses and his front teeth worrying at his ripe bottom lip.

Under the guise of stretching, she gave the curler at her nape a tug and tried not to grimace at the burning in her scalp.

“Well, that’s good,” he murmured. “I guess we should go rescue her from Charlie’s yodelling.”

As he turned, she gave the plastic roll one final sharp yank and yelped a little as she palmed it, tossing it into the drawer of a side table while she followed him back into the living room.

“Oh my, I didn’t offer you all anything to drink!” Grandma was saying, rising from the piano bench and smoothing down her skirt. “Can I fix you some sweet tea, or perhaps you’d prefer something hot? For your throat, Elvis?”

Chancy’s eyes narrowed and she turned to him as he politely and sweetly accepted her grandmother’s offer of sweet tea.

“You’re sick?”

“Just a cold, honey,” he demurred and, now that he said it, she could hear a slight grate to his voice like he was pushing through sounding hoarse, straining his voice. Which was fine, it was not like he relied on it for his livelihood or anything.

“You do sound sick,” she returned, reaching up to touch his forehead. He ducked away before she could register anything other than he was sweating and even hotter than normal. “Elvis, I think you have a fever.”

“What a lovely way to burn,” he sang back at her, before snorting. “Didn’t even know I was gonna do that, man, guess I’m brainwashed that way now.” The guys laughed uproariously on cue.

“I’m serious, you should be in bed.”

“That an invitation, honey?” She tried to fight the smile his saucy twitch of the eyebrow brought out in her, but it was impossible, and her attempt to evade the arms he wrapped around her waist was cosmetic at best. She wasn’t about to embarrass him in front of his guys and he knew that.

“Resting!” she insisted. She turned to Charlie, Sonny and the new guy, Dave, who were grinning at their carrying on like kids who had schemed to get their mom and dad back together. “And you should know better than letting him gallivant all over town when he’s sick!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Elvis cried, giving her a sharp tap on the butt, “what’s with all this talk of lettin’?! Nobody ‘lets’ me do nothin’. I make the damn decisions round here. Anyway, honey, what was I s’posed to do, stay home with Charlie playing nurse?” He curled his lip to show how appealing that sounded to him and Chancy gave in and laughed, enjoying his self-satisfied smirk in response.

Alicia appeared in the doorway, the knowing, triumphant look in her eye telling Chancy that she knew she had been onto something during dinner.

At the same time, Grandma returned with drinks, so Chancy broke free of Elvis’ arms and moved until there was a gleaming new piano between them.

In spite of his obviously sore throat, Elvis encouraged Grandma to run through her repertoire on the piano, gamely singing along to everything she could recall. When she made an off-hand comment about wanting to learn how to play her favourite song, ‘Reach out to Jesus’, from his last gospel album, Elvis immediately dropped down onto the bench beside her and started working through the chords, humming the melody under his breath so that she could hear the changes. He was so gentle and patient as Grandma faltered, giving her reassuring nods as she frowned over the keys and glanced up questioningly at him.

“That’s it, Grammy, you got it. Hold on now, you missed- Naw, that’s okay, it sounds better your way anyway.”

Chancy watched the two of them, both so serious and quiet in the eye of the larger hurricane swirling around them. Faye was thrilled to be out of bed in the middle of the night and was running loops around the house, bringing every toy she owned to Sonny, who had made the mistake of pretending to be interested in her doll. With much the same energy, Charlie was doing his whole corny vaudeville routine for Alicia, who was too polite not to laugh. Dave just sat looking slightly bemused by it all.

When Elvis excused himself to go to the bathroom, Charlie broke off from hassling Alicia and turned to Chancy.

“Hey, darlin’, could I grab a coke or somethin’ to run out to the kid in the car?”

“What kid?” she asked.

Charlie looked immediately awkward, realising he had said something he was not supposed to. When he didn’t answer, Chancy marched into the hall and swept aside the lace curtain at the window. Despite the heavy darkness, she could make out the silhouette of someone sitting in the backseat of the moonlit car.

“Who is that?” she asked over her shoulder. “Is that, is that Ricky? Y’all left him out in the car?!”

“Well, we cracked a window,” Charlie shrugged, trying to play it off as a joke. “Look, don’t say nothing, Chance, you know how he gets about you and the kid.”

Chancy raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Well, why’d he even bring him if he wasn’t going to let him come in?”

“We none of us knew we were heading out here when we got in the car, darlin’.” He explained that Elvis had been edgy all evening and kept putting off leaving for the movies. When they finally set off for the theatre, he had abruptly pulled away without a word from the cavalcade of cars filled with the guys, girls and fans and drove off at speed, eventually arriving at her place.

“Well, he seems okay now,” she commented, as he walked back into the room, laughing softly at a comment Alicia made, and looking immensely comfortable bracketed at the piano by her sister and grandmother.

“Yeah, now,” Charlie replied pointedly. She thought she heard an entire novel in that answer.

After surreptitiously passing Charlie a bottle of pepsi and some of chips to deliver to the outcast, Chancy returned to the living to to find Elvis crouched by their shelving unit with Faye next to him in her Sesame Street pyjamas, flicking through their records. Chancy shot Alicia a curious look.

“Elvis offered to autograph Grandma’s copy of his album,” Alicia explained.

Chancy watched him with his record in his hand, still rifling through the row, tilting his head to read the artists and titles.

Somewhere in the background, Grandma was talking about making everyone sandwiches, finally hearing the clarion call of her natural instinct to stuff everyone full of food at every opportunity.

Charlie made some tired old joke that Alicia started to laugh at, but lost energy for halfway through.

“Hey Grammy, you want me to put ‘love Elvis’ on this? I don’t want to start no rumours and get you caught up in those movie magazines,” Elvis asked, his increasingly croaky voice almost cracking as he raised it to be heard in the kitchen.

“Well, that would give those biddies down at the sewing circle something to gossip about!” Grandma called back.

Alicia and Chancy pretended to look shocked as they always did whenever their grandmother said anything less than saintly.

“Grandma!” Alicia cried. “Those ladies are your friends!”

“’All my love’, I got ya,” Elvis said with a laugh, scribbling away.

“You’re going to be the talk of the town, Grandma,” Chancy warned.

Finishing his autograph with a flourish, Elvis hesitated as he returned the record to the shelf.

“It’s looking pretty lonely there, man,” he observed with a self-deprecating huff of a laugh. “All by itself.”

Chancy’s cheeks flushed with warmth as she heard the hurt buried beneath his light tone.

“Well, these are mainly Alicia’s records. She’s not known for her good taste.” His mouth quirked at the corner, but he didn’t say anything, rising to his feet with a grunt as Grandma announced the food was ready.

In spite of the usual Elvis-induced chaos, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt stilted and subdued to Chancy.

Grandma had performed her usual magic and filled the table with food like a souped-up Julia Child. Charlie busied himself narrating as he constructed his sandwich, breaking into loud laughter at his own jokes. Faye, overtired and overexcited, bounced in her chair at having the opportunity to eat Grandma’s leftover coconut cake at nearly 3 a.m., while Grandma and Alicia fussed over the guys, making sure everyone had enough to eat.

All of Chancy’s senses were tuned to Elvis. What had he called it? Communicating soul to soul? She didn’t even have to try, her body naturally filtered out everyone else. It always had to some degree, but, before, she was at least able to function normally when he wasn't around. Now, when she couldn’t hear and feel him, everything around her stayed muted and cold.

Elvis was uncharacteristically quiet while they were eating and, even more out of character, only picked at his food. This of course alerted Grandma that something was off, and she asked if he needed some Tylenol for his throat and fever.

Chancy coughed to cover her snort at the thought of his body deigning to notice the presence of Tylenol.

He gave her grandmother a small smile and assured her he was fine. His gravelly voice contested that, but no one was inclined to argue with him.

After a few more minutes, he excused himself to get some air and stepped out the back door.

Chancy tried to play it cool, pushing her food in swirling patterns around her plate, but the sound of someone sharply clearing their throat made her glance up. She blinked at the sight of so many eyes pinned on her.

“I guess I’ll, uh, just-” She winced as the feet of her chair screeched against the linoleum.

Night was beginning to loosen its grip outside. The sky showed faint signs of light in silvery blue veins against the black-grey velvet and katydids were screeching against the rustling whisper of the trees moving slightly in the faint breeze. An owl hooted as she scanned the sagging porch and only caught sight of Elvis after the moonlight hit one of his rings as he reached up to adjust his glasses.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” It was a full sentence, an instruction and an explanation, all in one word.

Chancy hesitated, looking back at the door and wondering if she should give him space, but then she reflected that someone wouldn’t show up at another person’s house in the middle of the night looking for solitude.

Scrunching her toes against the damp of the old boards beneath her bare feet, she joined him at the railing, looking out at the garden. Back when the house had been a working farm, everything that could be seen from the porch had belonged to the farmers that lived in this house. Now, the black silhouetted tree line of oaks and maples marked their boundary, enclosing the yellowing lawn.

“You know, the phrase ‘the still of the night’ has never made any sense to me,” she remarked, as a bullfrog made itself known. “There’s nothing still or quiet about it.”

“Well, not with you around,” he murmured, so softly that he was almost drowned out by the ambient orchestra.

She nodded, chewing on her lips, before turning back towards the house.

“No, wait, I was kidding, honey, I was kidding. Don’t go.” He grabbed her wrist a little too tightly and tugged her to his side. He leant against her slightly as he threaded his fingers between hers and squeezed, turning back to the dark.

Her first instinct always was to solve problems and the urge to ask him what was wrong nagged and worried at her, twisting her gut as she soaked in the sound of his sigh and the pressure of his coat against her bare arm. She knew he wouldn’t tell her if directly questioned. Rushed or confronted, he always withdrew like a ghost hiding behind scripted words and the crooked smile he wore like armour.

“You shouldn’t live out here, it ain’t safe.”

Ten minutes of thick silence had passed between them, leaning into each other as they listened to the birds tweeting as they gradually woke. It was a jarring thing for him to say.

“I don’t know, it’s a good neighbourhood. Nothing to worry about really apart from the odd rock ‘n’ roll singer roaming around in the middle of the night.”

He nudged his shoulder down at an angle against hers and twitched his cheek in a faint recognition of the joke. She suppressed a worried sigh and frowned at the trees.

“Honey, if you only knew the kind of sickos and crazies that wander around this county. Hell, I was just talking to Sheriff Nixon just the other day, and it’s like goddamn Sodom and Gomorrah out there. Y-you think all the freaks and the rapists and all those motherfuckers are in the city, but that ain’t the case. Just ain’t. And I think about you, and-and Grammy and Lil’ Alicia with her baby. I bet you ain’t even got a gun in this old place, have you?”

“We do just fine,” she assured him. “Ray, our neighbour- that’s his barn there through the trees- he’s a deputy himself and we have his number if there’s any trouble. And we got Ed and Marie who own the farm just down the road. They own more guns than you do, probably. We’re fine, honey, really.”

He just shook his head vehemently, biting back whatever heated retort had been burning on his tongue.

Charlie had been right, it was a strange mood he was in, as many emotions roiling within it as colours on an oil slick, all sliding together and gleaming at different points. He wiped some sweat from his forehead and released her hand to snatch off his sunglasses and rub his eyes.

“Man, I ain’t feelin' worth a damn,” he muttered. “My goddamn eyes are killin’ me, my head, throat… I’m just fallin’ apart, Cha Cha, everything’s goin’ to hell in a fuckin’ handbasket.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, while she reached up to rub his back.

“You need to be resting,” she said gently. “You push yourself too hard.”

“You tell that to- to the old man, and goddamn RCA Victor. They’re on at me day and night to get down to the studio and cut some third rate shit records that ain’t nobody gonna wanna hear. I tell ya, it’s like walking on broken glass going into those damn sessions. You should hear some of the crap they try and palm off on me, like they think I ain’t got standards, like it don’t matter.” He wiped some sweat-damp hair away from his face. “Hell, maybe they’re right. Maybe no one’d buy it regardless.”

His chest was heaving as he flexed his long fingers, clenching his hands into fists and releasing them just like she had seen him do countless times backstage when he was overwhelmed and overexcited.

His mood and his suffering was almost corporeal, like a case of spikes enclosing him. She could feel the prickles on her skin, niggling and digging into her. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see blood.

Wordlessly, she stopped rubbing circles into his back and moved her hand around to take his, giving it a tug.

“I wanna show you something.”

Almost like a lightning strike, the dark expression on his face was instantly superseded by a grin, though it didn’t reach his slightly puffy eyes, wreathed in dark shadows.

“Well, I want you to show me something too, baby,” he returned smoothly as they stepped back into the now empty kitchen, “but I was trying to be a gentleman about it.”

She screwed up her face, feeling it throbbing as she blushed and that seemed to cheer him up further because he smirked down at her and stepped into her personal space. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, like standing too close to the sun.

“Stop that!” she murmured with no force behind it.

“Stop what?” he asked softly, breathing hot against her ear. She nudged him with her elbow and then immediately felt bad because he was sick and grabbed his arm as he pretended to stagger.

“C’mon.” She nodded towards the stairs and did a quick survey to make sure that no one could see them.

“It ain’t my fault, Grammy,” he said softly. “She ain’t giving me a choice… I tried to say no!”

“Stop!” Her words quivered as she laughed.

As much as he was fooling around, she did feel nervous fluttering in her tummy as she led him upstairs as if she was a teenager trying to sneak around under Grandma’s nose. He didn’t help at all; she could have sworn he was purposely stomping on the stairs to get everyone’s attention.

Elvis had to duck to get through the low doorway of her bedroom and, combined with the extra width added to his shoulders by the half cape of his black coat, his presence almost engulfed the room. As he drew closer to her, his gaze fixed on her mouth and she almost forgot why she had invited him up there in the first place.

“Wait a minute.” She put her palm against his chest, the wool of his coat scratchy against her skin. Who else but Elvis would wear a wool coat indoors in the summer? She shook her head in answer to her thought.

“What? You’re the one who keeps draggin’ me into your bedroom,” he remarked, dropping down onto her unmade bed and reclining back onto his elbows. “Can’t blame a fella for thinking it was for a good reason.” He pulled his sunglasses down his nose and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Chancy snorted as she crouched down beneath the cabinet holding her record player.

“Maybe I just wanted your autograph too,” she shrugged, gesturing to the cupboard she had just opened. He sat back up wearily, frowning, and came to kneel next to her. She watched him run a bejewelled finger over her large collection of his records.

There was a long pause.

“I was only kidding, you don’t really have to auto-” She let out a muffled yelp as he turned and kissed her hard, knocking her onto her butt. His hand clasping the back of her neck and head was the only thing that kept her upright. She grabbed hold of the lapels of his coat though just in case.

“Honey, you know you didn’t have to pay for those, I could've got ‘em for you for free,” he said dryly, when they breathlessly broke apart. “I know some people.”

“Aw, if only I’d known that sooner.”

“Hell, maybe it’s better this way. With you buying ‘em it probably doubles my numbers.”

Chancy frowned as he nuzzled her neck, feeling his dark mood lapping yet again at the edges of their conversation. She worried that teasing him would only speed up the tide and she wished that she knew the real cause so that she could navigate with more confidence. He might just be feeling sorry for himself because he was under the weather, but equally, something soul-destroying could have happened and he could be trying to bear its weight until he sank beneath the burden.

She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb running down the crease from the side of his nose towards his mouth, which was unusually closed and not smiling. He tightened one side of his lips, but it was almost an impersonation of his usual crooked smile, and she felt vaguely insulted that he thought she of all people would be fooled.

She scouted around for something to say, some way to usher him out of his gloom without accidentally rousing his temper, the triggers hidden better than landmines.

“You know, I didn’t really invite you up here just to see my record collection.”

“Why, Cha Cha, you naughty lil girl. I tell ya, I’m shocked.” He was saying all the right words, but the energy and humour were missing. They were like empty clothes flapping on the line, imitating movement.

“I also wanted to-” She shrugged and started to unfasten a slightly strained button on his coat.

“Hey,” he said quickly, almost under his breath, “what are we doing, what’s goin’ on?” His large hands clasped her shoulders and he looked down, watching her work.

“You know, I’d never question your outfit choice, honey, you always look so good, but you’re making me feel hot looking at you. Let’s just take this coat off.” She had only managed to undo three buttons, but she could feel him tensing, ready to withdraw.

“C’mon now,” she teased gently. “I’m probably not even the first girl to try and rip your clothes off this week, am I right?”

“Well, you sure are the most determined,” he murmured, as she sped up.

“The prettiest!” she tssked. “You’re supposed to say I’m the prettiest, Elvis! Jeez! I’m gonna let you off for that just because you’re sick, but my gosh!” He huffed a laugh and cleared his aching throat.

“It goes without sayin’,” he replied with a tone of playful irritation. She lifted his coat off one shoulder and moved around to do the same to the other, folding it over her arms.

“What does?”

“That you’re the prettiest.” He sighed as he dropped onto the end of her bed.

“Ha, I knew you were in there somewhere.” She took in his blue silk shirt and how the back was almost soaked through with sweat, the front taut against his round stomach. She turned on the lazy overhead fan and gave him a helpless shrug. “It’s better than nothing, I guess.”

The look he gave her pierced right through her, his eyes narrowed and twinkling, cheekbones arcing and his lips giving just a glimpse of his teeth. It sent her temperature shooting up in spite of the fan.

“Get over here,” he instructed, his hoarse voice making it sound almost like a growl. “C’mere woman.”

She approached, still clutching his coat to her front. He took it from her and tossed it onto her chair. Then he wrapped his fingers around her legs just above her knees and started to lift her skirt. She squealed quietly and feinted a move away.

“What? I thought we were taking it in turns?!”

“I was trying to help you cool off!” she pointed out, her face aching where she was trying to not smile.

“W-well, me too,” he insisted dryly. He hooked a finger under her hem at the front and started to lift it.

“Elvis!” she couldn’t help the giggle that tremored through his name. A lot of it was nervous relief that the airless gloom was beginning to lift, and that she could reach him again. He quickly snatched the material of her skirt in his fist and pulled it back down.

“Naw, I’ll be good,” he said, putting on his baby voice. “Promise.”

He tugged on her skirt, pulling her towards him until his forehead was flush against her sternum.

Letting out a loud sigh with a hint of a wheeze to it, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her hips, turning his head and pressing his cheek against her stomach. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton.

“You’re not falling asleep there, are you?” she teased gently, smoothing down his hair.

“Mmm, wish I could.” He looked up at her, his eyes watery and bloodshot but bluer than usual, digging his chin just above her belly button. “You know I wouldn’t mind staying in bed if I had a nurse like you, baby.”

“I’d be a terrible nurse,” she returned, shaking her head. “Almost as bad as you would be as a patient.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should get you a uniform, just to be sure…” He snickered into her stomach as she blushed. She wanted to hold him that way for as long as she could, knowing that he was safe from the problems and worries that consumed him, the humiliation and harm that preyed on him, and most importantly safe from his own dark, self-destructive urges.

Again, the atmosphere was muted when the group finally converged again to leave just as dawn was spilling over the horizon. This time, it was a feeling of peace rather than suffocation.

Elvis had insisted on wrapping himself back up in the big wool coat and he held Chancy’s hand as he said goodbye to Alicia who was cradling a limp, sleeping Faye in her arms and Grandma who, despite her age, looked more spry and alert than the lot of them. Dawn was her time.

Standing on the porch, the guys climbing into the car, and her family drifting back indoors, he turned to her and she clasped his arms as they enfolded her.

“I hope you can get some rest,” she murmured, “and you feel better soon.”

He nodded and leant down, finally pressing his lips against hers. She jerked back and he hiccupped a painful, hoarse laugh. “Well, maybe we can both be patients together.”

“Always scheming!” she sighed, before drawing back in and giving him a long kiss on the cheek, tasting the salt of him. It made her mouth water.

“I’ll see ya,” he murmured, looking reluctant as he stepped away from her and heavily descended the porch steps. She stood and watched the car turn in the drive and slowly navigate the rutted road.

“No, there’s nothing going on there at all,” Alicia remarked loudly from the hall.

Chancy sighed and rubbed her gritty eyes.

“I guess there’s not really any point going to bed,” she remarked, pointedly ignoring her sister. “There’s only an hour until my alarm.”

Alicia groaned loudly as she stomped up the stairs and Chancy snorted as she heard her apologise to Faye and try to hush her back to sleep.

Just over an hour after she watched the Lincoln leave, the phone rang.

“So, I’ve been thinking about how you don’t feel safe at your house.” His voice didn’t sound as scratchy now, but maybe that was because it was hidden behind the slur.

“I don’t?” she asked, frowning at her reflection as she applied her make-up for work.

“There’s these guys I know, police officers, they, uh, do security sometimes for me on the side. I’m gonna send a couple out your way to keep an eye on everyone. They’re good guys, the best.”

“Well, that’s really thoughtful of you, honey, really, but I don’t-”

“And that way you don’t have to worry while you’re gone.”

“I’m- Where am I going?” She felt completely off-kilter in this conversation.

“I gotta do this recording session, baby, they’re on my back about it. The Colonel's talking broken contracts and lawsuits. They’re doing my damn head in. And, you know, I figure I might need a nurse to take care of me when I get sick of the bullshit…” She could almost hear him doing his little boy smile into the phone, the one that always got him what he wanted.

“Elvis, I can’t go- I just got back-”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” he snapped thickly and loudly over the top of her. “Wait, before you come up with all your bullshit excuses, ‘cause I got ‘em to agree to me recording here in Memphis. You don’t need to go nowhere, just stay here. Hell, you can even work during the day if you want. I just- I need you here. I-It’s better when you’re here, honey.”

Elvis was a smart man, he wasn’t delegating to Charlie anymore. She thought about how she would work the logistics of working during the day and being with him at night. She considered that the commute to her storefront was shorter from Graceland than her house. She thought about that gutting ache she had only just managed to shift after her ignominious departure from the tour. And then she thought about his pale, feverish face gazing up at her just that morning.

“I can come stay for the recording sessions,” she said, closing her eyes so she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror.

“Thank you, baby.” He mumbled, breathing heavy into the receiver. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” She listened as she heard a faint snore and realised he had fallen asleep.

“Sweet dreams, honey,” she whispered.

Tag List: Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list. And any scream from the void is always cherished.

@richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith . @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis . @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts

#elvis presley #70s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #an enjoyable slide to oblivion #whositmcwhatsit

82 notes · View notes