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lancermylove · 23 days

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Plant Allergy (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: All x Reader, platonic.

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hello! I just read the headcanons that you are going to make and I noticed one that says "allergic to plants" and I would like you to make a headcanon for TWST of how the boys would react to finding out that their female friend Yuu is allergic to plants and what what they would do if someone exposed them to this (for example if they gave them flowers or even included a plant that especially affects them in their food, you know, sometimes it is done to give it flavor).

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Leona

Who needs plants when meat exists? Guess he can't call you an herbivore now.

Initially, Leona doesn't take the allergy too seriously as he thinks you are either joking or too sensitive. But when he sees you have an allergic region, he freaks out.

He always makes sure you don't get any gifts, food, or items with plants in them. The prince also uses his power and influence to ensure that no one else makes the mistake of exposing you to plants.

Leona even goes as far as not sleeping in the greenhouse, just in case the allergens transfer from his clothes to your body.

Ruggie

Awww, so you won't be able to try his dandelion tea? Ruggie is sad. Not really, but he tries not to laugh when you tell him you have a plant allergy.

He is not laughing at the fact you have an allergy but at the fact that you are allergic to plants. Ruggie didn't even know that was possible. How do you survive on NRC's campus with all the plants and trees around?

Just like Leona, he makes sure no one tries to play pranks on you, especially from Savanaclaw, using plants.

Jack

Does that mean you are allergic to his cacti? By what did they ever do to you? They are innocent!

He doesn't take your allergy seriously either since Jack had never heard of a plant allergy. But when he sees how badly plants affect you, he makes sure to double-check everything he sends to you.

If anyone dares to carelessly expose you to plants, Jack uses his strength or intimidating stature to scare the person into never repeating that mistake again.

Malleus

He doesn't question or doubt you in the slightest. As soon as you tell him, Malleus takes it very seriously. The last thing he wants is for you to have an allergy attack.

Sometimes, if he thinks you might need extra protection, the prince uses his magic to create a 'bubble' for you. That way, you can move around freely without worrying about allergens.

Malleus orders the students in Diasomnia to get rid of everything plant-related so you are safe in the dorm. The prince goes as far as to warn all his dorm members not to bring plants around you.

Lilia

He sympathizes with you, but at the same time, he likes to tease you. Lilia likes to stand a safe distance from you and wave a flower in the air just to see your reaction.

Like Malleus, he makes sure to let everyone know not to mess with your allergy. If they do, he will haunt them while they are awake and in their sleep.

His favorite gifts to give you are fake flowers. Lilia likes to see the panic in your face, followed by the relief when you realize they are fake. Most of all, Lilia likes it when you chase him around for his prank.

Sebek

What is a plant allergy? Sebek literally cannot comprehend that you are allergic to plants. It seems impossible, so he takes it as you joking with him.

He accidentally gives you food with plants, and when Sebek sees your allergic reaction, he panics. Since that day, he advocates for your safety. If anyone tries to come a mile of you with plants, he yells at them.

Sometimes, he takes things a little too far, and due to this, many students in NRC are afraid of being around you. They think Sebek will come out of nowhere and yell at them.

Silver

He feels bad for you. Nothing beats taking a nap in the woods with animals surrounding you, but sadly, you can't do that.

Silver takes your allergy very seriously and sits down with you to know what bothers you and what doesn't. He keeps that list with him at all times, along with a list of 'what to do' in case you have an allergic reaction.

He is one of the most responsible and considerate friends. When Silver is around you, you can be sure you won't suffer any allergy attacks.

Riddle

Plant allergy? Does that also include herbs, fruits, and vegetables? So you literally can't eat anything? Wait, does this also include cotton and plant fibers? So, you can't wear anything made of plants? His head is spinning.

He immediately implements a no-plants indoor policy in his dorm. That way, you can come and go without worrying about your allergens. Unfortunately, he can't do anything about the trees, bushes, and plants outside the dorm.

Riddle is very strict with reinforcing the no-plant or pranks on you policy, and Trey helps him with it.

Trey

Now he knows why you refused to join his club when he offered. Trey can't even begin to fathom how troublesome your allergies are. Plants are everywhere, in every corner, at every place. How exactly do you manage to avoid them?

At times, Trey worries about you and asks you to come over to Heartslabyul for certain meals. If he cooks for you, he can control every ingredient, but that won't be the case for the cafeteria food.

He is even more strict in reinforcing that no plants are brought indoors in the dorm when you are around; moreover, no students do anything to bother your allergies.

Cater

Confused. How did you manage to survive this far in your life? Literally, everything has something plant-related in it, from food to clothes to even houses. Either you are resilient or very lucky.

Cater goes straight to social media to spread awareness about this. In turn, he learns information about plant allergy and uses it to help you.

He even starts a campaign to replace all real flowers/plants placed indoors all around NRC to be replaced with fake ones.

Ace

"Does this mean I can't plant a kiss on your cheek?" Not funny? Ace thought you would laugh at his joke—at least, he thought it was funny.

But seriously? A plant allergy? That's real? He doesn't take it seriously until he sees you get an allergic reaction. Then, he realizes you were being serious. Since then, he hasn't questioned anyone if they say they are allergic to something, even if the allergy is unusual.

He always makes sure to check the gifts he gives you for anything plant-based. Ace secretly feels guilty for triggering your allergy and kinda won't forgive himself for it. But shhh, you don't need to know that.

Deuce

Being an honest and straightforward man, he takes everything at face value. So when you tell him you have a plant allergy, he is startled but doesn't question it.

Deuce is very protective of you and makes sure everything plant-based is kept miles away from you. He even carries extra masks and medicines in case you suffer any type of attack. Moreover, he has the school nurse on speed dial in case you get hurt in any way.

If anyone tries to purposely aggravate your allergy, Deuce will initiate his gangsta mode and say hi to their faces with his fist.

Vil

He takes your allergy very seriously, as Vil values beauty and health above all.

If your allergies cause a physical reaction, Vil will research and create a lotion that will help your skin recover. If you have an internal reaction, Vil will work with some students to create a potion that could help to reduce the effects of the allergens on your body.

He even goes out of his way to find you skin/beauty products that don't have plants in them, so you don't have to worry about putting something on your skin that could potentially hurt you.

Rook

Mon Dieu, the horrors of not being able to smell the divine fragrance of flowers. How can you survive such a life? Rook's heart weeps for you.

He has the most dramatic reaction when you tell him with a poetic monologue that lasts for a few minutes. Luckily for you, Vil is around and tells him to stop.

Rook uses his tracking and hunting skills to learn which environments are safe for you through the campus. If you go near any dangerous environments, you can be sure one of Rook's arrows will fly in front of you, carrying a warning note.

Epel

Then are you allergic to apples? No apples or apple juice?

He even asks his grandmother if there is a cure for it. But even his grandmother is surprised by the allergy information.

Epel has to take a moment to recall if he had done something to trigger your allergies in the past. Maybe he shouldn't have sent you the apple juice? That didn't give you a reaction, right? RIGHT?

He is more careful now and checks everything before giving it to you. Sometimes, Epel even texts you to make sure something is okay to give to you. He may be a little TOO careful.

Idia/Ortho

He has a lot of knowledge about many things, but plant allergy is something Idia was not familiar with. However, thanks to Ortho's program, he got all the information he needed.

If you ever get an allergy attack in Idia's presence, he will panic. Thankfully, Ortho has a built-in protocol that will give help you get back to normal. He even carries allergy meds/pens to be fully prepared.

In his free time, Idia develops a device that allows him to monitor your allergy levels and the potential threats that lurk around you in any environment.

If you ever want to be around plants, Idia will gladly create a virtual world for you so that you can enjoy nature without side effects.

Kalim

Allergic to plants? Then, what do you eat? How do you go on walks? You can't smell the fragrant scent of flowers? Kalim is very sad that you cannot enjoy the simple things in life without worrying about your allergies.

He suggests moving to his homeland. The desert barely has any trees, and his servants will make sure you are taken care of. Did he just indirectly propose to you? Maybe. Not even he knows.

Kalim isn't as careful with your allergy because he has moments when he forgets. For this reason, he always carries allergy meds/pens with him just in case you get a reaction from his carelessness.

Jamil

He has never heard of anyone having plant allergy but doesn't doubt you. Jamil knows not to mess with health and has no plans of messing with yours.

In fact, he talks to the ghost chef and asks the kitchen staff to label the foods with potential allergens. That will not only protect you but also the other students who have allergies.

During his free time, Jamil tries to use his knowledge to brew something that could help entirely diminish your allergy. But then, he realizes that brewing potions also requires plants.

Azul

Allergic to plants? Maybe he could make a business out of his by creating items that are made plant-free in every way. You just gave him a great idea.

Azul makes sure Octavinelle is a safe house for you so that you can come by anytime without worrying about your allergens. He has also warned the workers in Mostro Lounge not to mess with your food and to be careful when serving you.

It's not that Azul doesn't trust Floyd, but if the eel is having one of his mood swings, Azul worries that he might not be paying attention to what he is cooking and accidentally feeds you something plant-based.

Jade

At least you are not allergic to mushrooms. Right? Keeps his mushroom collection far away from you, just in case.

Jade is unfazed by your allergy and doesn't question it. One of the only students who handles your revelation with calmness.

Though he doesn't show it outright, Jades worries about you and invites you to Octavinelle quite often. At least with the underwater theme, you won't be exposed to plants. Wait, are you also allergic to seaweed...and sea plants?

He is curious but not enough to experiment with you.

Floyd

He can't decide whether to be concerned, laugh, or be fascinated. Never once did he think something like a plant allergy existed. Just when Floyd thought humans couldn't get any more delicate, you proved him wrong.

Though he doesn't grasp the concept of allergies at first, Floyd learns through trial and error. This means you have to deal with him accidentally doing things to aggravate your allergies. But then, he will never repeat that mistake again.

However, when you come to Mostro Lounge to eat, Floyd always takes extra precautions and prepares food for you in a separate pan/pot so that you can enjoy your meal without worrying about your allergies.

And if anyone tries to play around with your allergies, Floyd will constrict them. No questions asked.

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tellioari · 9 months

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Maroon dye, Cochineal Beetles, Madder Roots and Cinnabar!

Cacti can now spawn with a chance of little cochineal beetles on them! These beetles will go through 4 stages of growth before turning a bright red color, and when bright red, can be right-clicked to obtain maroon dye (to which they will return to their first stage). This process beginning is not guaranteed, however, and sometimes needs to be prompted with cactus chunks, which can be obtained by crafting down one cactus. These cactus chunks, while not a great food source on their own, can be smelted and eaten or crafted into cactus compost - a way to speed up cochineal beetles reddening process and a renewable way to make some more beetles!

Madder is a new plant that isn't that interesting on it's own, but it's whats beneath thats unique - if you dig beneath the plant, you'll find Madder Root. This can be made into maroon dye or crafted in a 4x4 grid to make Large Madder Roots, which can also be crafted down into normal oak planks.

One more method of obtaining maroon dye is deep beneath the earth, beneath Y=0, you may find little clumps of Cinnabar. Budding cinnabar can also be found, slowly growing crystals similar to Amethyst. Mining the cinnabar crystals yields cinnabar dust, and combing 4 dust makes a cinnabar rock. The rocks can be used for decorative blocks, or an alternative to brewing a potion of harming. Cinnabar dust is incredibly dangerous, and can be thrown on enemies for a quick bit of damage on it's own - or mixed with Gunpowder and Redstone to create an incredibly dangerous slurry. The slurry, when combined with copper and a splash potion of harming, makes a Gas Bomb - an area of effect of constant damage. The bomb also creates a brief effect that stuns and harms Guardians especially.

#minecraft #minecraft mods #modded minecraft #pixel art #mineblr #mc #dyes #l and el's dye mod

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soraviie · 1 year

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chasing after you.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation

━ about: dynamics in order: Joon - one-night stand + enemies to lovers, Yoongi - neighbours with a bit of a bad boy influence, Jin - sort of arranged marriage au, Hoseok - exes to lovers, Jimin - sugar daddy/fake dating au, Taehyung - tease x anger issues/clingy + tsundere/f2l, Jungkook - bodyguard x ward

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: "Aw, fuck, who invited that guy?" you growled, whilst rolling your eyes at the corner where Namjoon had been so precariously sat like an asshole. You hated everything about him - the smug smile, the cocky tone of his voice, the winks he threw your way. Kim Namjoon was nothing but a sure way to get your blood pressure up and stay that way all through the night.

"Probably one of his fri- Shit! He's coming this way!" as your friend dipped over the bar and away into the crowd, courageous as ever, you snatched your drink partially pondering about throwing it into his face.

"You look lonely," he cooed with that shit-eating grin that you had wanted to smack away since the first meeting. And maybe to kiss but he didn't need to know that. "Why don't I keep you company?"

"Keep company with your left hand like you usually do," you yelled over the music.

"Well it does pair well with certain memories of you," he smirked and you groaned in disgust.

A misguided February 14th evening could lead to many foul things - unexpected pregnancy, STDs, Kim Namjoon having the delusional idea that you liked him.

Frankly, you'd rather endure a yeast infection than have this 6 feet fuckboy in the disguise of a pacifistic art lover keep chasing you every night out. More than once you wanted to slap your younger self only to come to their defence over and over again.

Namjoon was big. Big man. Big muscles. Big...well you get it.

And that may have made you a little bit stupid once! But not twice.

Yes.

"I can't stand you," you sneered at him with the most contempt you could possibly muster

"Sit on my lap then, baby."

You took a long swig to finish your drink, sliding it across the bartop and walking backwards, you levelled him down with a:

"You'd only cream your jeans, caveman."

"That's possible," he reckoned with a soft smile watching you mingle with the dancing crowd.

And for a while, it all went well, you'd find someone to at least waste some time with only for them to suddenly start sprinting away for their lives. You frowned after them, coming to a screeching halt in the fun.

Did your breath smell or something?

Taken with dancing, you hadn't noticed the broad-chested giant charging forth, smoke practically fuming from his nostril as his eyes glinted devilishly when tracking down the opponent. As the music changed, you found your waist circled by a shovel-sized palm.

"You really have no luck out here. You keep on being stuck with lil' old me," he whispered in your ear, causing long trails of goosebumps where his breath landed and you elbowed him, hard, in the gut.

He didn't even seem to mind.

"I don't know who you think you are Kim Namjoon but I will never-!"

"Oh, how you hate me," he lets out a burst of raspy laughter, head thrown back on the pillow, pulling you closer as much as he can despite you both being considerably sweaty.

"S-shut up," you grunt back, thighs aching but just a little bit more and you'll be in your happy place even if it was with this obnoxious gym rat. "You're just a cock on legs to me."

"Oh, for sure," he smirks and then prompts himself upwards to bite on your neck. "But you might think of screaming a tad quieter if you want to be really convincing."

It's a sick sense of deja-vu to wake up sore and aching all over in a sun-filled room overstuffed with cacti and a very soft blanket. The bed was empty and as you clamber to the toilet wearing a shirt found on the floor, struggling to walk, you stumble upon him in the kitchen - Cheshire grin spread all over his lips.

"Good morning," Namjoon greets. "You want some eggs, babe?"

YOONGI: His eyes track your movement as though it's dazed him and it's in moments like these you wish he was a criminal or something, a certified member of a mafia. A flag touch redder.

Stay away from Min Yoongi, they said, he's trouble but what to do when he doesn't stay away from you?

"So a kitten does come out to play," he purrs pressing one of those veiny palms against the elevator doors, halting it in its tracks and climbing in. You roll your eyes and straighten your back to appear more threatening. Yoongi, of course, couldn't give less of a shit.

"You're one to speak," you counter. "The most walking you do is through your apartment. It's like a herd of elephants."

"Well then don't listen in on what I do, you little pervert," he smirks, pressing the 8 on the elevator and it jerkily moves through the floors, reminding you once again to be grateful for life.

"Give it here," without waiting for a reply, he grabs the hold of your bags and goes straight to your apartment doors. Once inside he makes himself right at home, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"What are we eating?" he questions gruffly, examining the produce with no small amount of judgment.

"You're speaking French now?" you push him away, relinquishing the rightful ownership of a pair of avocados you bought. "Whose "we"?"

He doesn't bother gracing it with a comment as anyhow a doorbell rings and you see his tongue poke against the cheek.

"Who the hell are you?" he questions sharply and you peer into the doorway.

"Oh, hello," you greet your coworker with a reserved smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" Yoongi echoes, placing his hand above your head and on the very edge of the door.

"Just interested if you're going to the uh... team bonding activities," he replies, fretfully glancing at Yoongi.

"Ignore him, I do," you smirk up at Yoongi. "And-"

"She has plans," Yoongi interrupts, pushing you back into the kitchen with his palm against your back.

"Oh, okay," your coworker stutters awkwardly, trying to lean in somehow. "See you around?"

"No," Yoongi cheerfully replies and smacks the door right into his face.

"You're such a dick," you groan.

"Did you have plans?" he asks with a teasing lilt, voice dropping nearly an octave lower. "And are you going to lie that it wasn't with me?"

"My jumbo-sized Charmander plushie and I are doing well on our own," you point at him with a packet of tomatoes. "Where you fit into the equation is a mystery."

"I'll tell you where I can fit," he laughed, wagging his eyebrows.

"No, no, goodbye," you wrinkle your nose in disgust, pushing his still laughing back out of the door. "Leave."

"Wait, what if I need some sugar?" he objects and you furrow your eyebrows, glaring up at him in suspicion.

"Do you?"

"No," he shrugs carelessly. "But what if."

"Begone, demon," you push against him harder but he seems to only enjoy it.

"Come to my game. It's right across the street in that park. I need a good luck charm."

"Will you be throwing a ball in your face? If no, then I'm not interested."

As you slam the door shut there still comes a raspy whine.

"Come on, short ass, come."

And if you do happen to drop by the nearest park with its shitty basketball court it's because you have nothing better to do and you needed some ice cream. Yoongi, uncharacteristically brazen for him, smirks at then winks in the middle of the game.

And promptly receives a ball to the face.

JIN: "Eat more garlic!"

"Straighten your hair with an iron!"

"Belch really, really loudly!"

You try to recall all of your friends' sage advice whilst pacifying your nerves. Being late nearly an hour didn't sit well with you but this guy was...determined. Insanely determined. So the ends justify the means.

When at last you arrive at the three Michelin star restaurant it's an hour later than what your family had set and you're wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Your face may burn with shame at such a display but certainly, this would beat this broad-shouldered man off the path. This was beyond and above rude. You're already prepared to be yelled at, scorned and insulted but Seokjin merely blooms into an eager smile. Doesn't even blink twice at your choice of wear.

He dismisses the host with a polite nod and pulls a chair out.

"Hello, _________," he greets innocently. "Traffic is hell, right."

There was no traffic and he knew it only making excuses to achieve whatever nefarious goal he had set out to.

"Just give him a chance," your mother pleaded over the phone. "He's been asking about you forever. Please, he's rich and handsome, what's not to like."

What's not to like? Well, probably something. Kim Seokjin in your mind had always stood as that annoying guy who'd dropped a water bomb on your head when you were about to take the most glorious profile picture ever. Spinning in overlapping social circles, you'd seen too much of him growing up and had to endure several of your friends flailing over him especially when the pool season began. He was like a jar of honey to their fly status. And as such only a tar in your own pot of sweetness.

He was old. You had not exactly a criminal age difference but still more than 2 years. He was a creep, you firmly plant that idea into the recesses of your mind.

Why oh why, was he so insistent on asking about you?

"Good idea," he praises, pointing at your outfit. "It's best to be comfortable. I should have done that as well, this is quite uncomfortable," he waves a disappointed hand over the blue three-piece suit.

The waiter along with the menu serves you a freshly plucked side eye.

"Yeah, that's why I did it," dryly you mutter back, hiding behind the menu.

Think, think, think, what else turns off snooty men?

"Fucking shit," you cry out to your own amazement. "These prices are ridiculous. I'm not paying for this!"

"That's fine," Jin shrugs with that seemingly permanently etched expression of a tender smile. "I invited you here, I'll pay."

You groan.

"I'll fart," you threaten.

He shrugs and gracefully pours you a glass of wine.

"Everyone does that. It's a part of life."

You slobber your dinner up like a beast.

"Hmm, you're making the meal look more delicious," he nods.

And not even when you "accidentally" spill a mango sauce on his pants worth more than your apartment, does he weigh the thought of becoming angry in his mind.

"Ah, it's a perfect colour now," he merely congratulates with a jubilant cry and you let your head fall on the table with a thud, only it hits his palm as he had stretched it out at the last second.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out in sheer desperation. "Why are you not running over the hills?"

"Do you really think I can't see that you're doing this on purpose?" he smirks in amusement, over the rim of the wine glass. "We've known each other for a while, I know you better than that."

"Exactly!" you yell before falling into a hush as numerous daggers shoot your way. "You know me! As the annoying friend of your cousin! Why are you asking after me all of a sudden?! What joke are you playing?"

"Well, first of all," Jin corrects all too self-congratulatory. "I've never thought you were annoying. Maybe except when you were like 14 but who isn't the worst person in the world at that age? And secondly," his ears abruptly turn quite pink and he lets the wine glass rest on the table, nervously fiddling with its stem. "I asked for you because as you may know your mother is quite eagerly seeking various wedlock opportunities. For you specifically."

That makes you groan only louder.

"Don't remind me. So, so what? You want to get married to me?" you snort at the idea but then, for the first time ever, Jin is not laughing.

"Yes," he says dead serious.

"Wait, is this a prank?" you glance all around in an attempt to find the hidden cameras. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"I'm pulling no legs. What a weird thing to do," Jin muses and you narrow him down.

"Don't joke. It's not funny. Say "got you" or something. You can't be serious?!"

"Listen, ___________, I've liked you for a while now. I wanted to ask you before you began university but then you brought Jae home and..."

"Jae? Jin, that was...that was five years ago! You couldn't have liked me for five years?"

He averts his eyes and sips on his champagne. Even his neck is red.

"Five years?" you cry out. "And you kept quiet?!"

"Well, I told you now!" he objects with some indignation but even more of a burning shame. "All you need to do is to decide what you're going to do. 'Cause I'll accept you as you are, belching, sweatpant wearing and all. Even if you straighten your hair with an iron."

For a second you sit still and stupefied on this ridiculously over-padded chair ad then you feel yourself match the heat blooming on his face.

"You know Giulia?" you ask, downing the entire wine while desperately trying not to smile at the soft amusement in his eyes.

"Of course, I know Giulia," Jin chuckles self-consciously. "Who do you think gave me the genius advice of this stuffy suit?"

HOSEOK: You should have known from the start that this would lead to nothing good. What else could wait for you at the end of the nondescript hallways of conference rooms? One thing you didn't expect however was the loathsome face of your ex-boyfriend. Hoseok was sitting already by the table, beautiful as ever, leg nervously bouncing against the floor and treacherously a click of a lock snapping in its place echoes behind you.

He springs up from the seat, nervously glancing at where you tried to somehow break through the door. Or the wall, whichever came first.

"Oh, hell no," you growled, nails scraping against the doorknob. The betraying Brutus of a friend he had bribed to text you to come here will find an egg on their window for sure.

"_____________, please, let's just talk," he pleads. "Just let...let me explain."

"I don't want to hear any explanation," you hissed, turning to glare at him. From the way his eyebrows sloped, you could tell he was deadset serious but then it comes too clearly back into your mind.

That you were weird, not his type, that he doesn't understand you. But instead of simply crying about it you left. To cry about it in your own space. And also then turn incredibly bitter over it.

"I just meant that..."

"That I'm a freak? Yeah, I got it," you snarled before yanking harder on the knob. "Open the damn door!"

"No. If you're going to leave then please do the courtesy of letting me memorize your face."

You close your eyes, steeling your resolve. Don't give in, you reminded yourself, not after a whole year of hunkering through yet another heartbreak. Hoseok was just like the rest. Taking weirdness in all the things you liked, that you were. Why should you ever change for anyone else?

"It's been a year," you note sternly, having slid on the floor. He's also there, watching away from the small distance with a crease of a frown between his brows.

"Exactly. This year was one of the worst I've ever had," he confesses, supposedly earnestly. "I admit the things that I said were wrong but I did not mean it like that!"

"________________ is just a bit weird. You know the people I used to date, there's a bit of a difference, softly said," you quote him word for word. "And you said that to someone else! You opened your mouth, said that shit and thought it was okay!"

The sun behind the window had nearly slipped over the horizon and the office space was illuminated with a soft orange glow.

"You know the first time I met you, that was a lie," he mutters into the air. No one had come to open the door despite you nearly beating it off the hinges.

"Oh, that too was a lie, wonderful," you groaned, rolling your eyes but Hoseok remains sitting sadly by, occasionally passively twirling his shoe laces.

"I actually went past you on the street. Remember the crossroad by that small confectionery?"

You did remember. You lived right above it for a while, making your hair smell perpetually of candy for half a year.

"I...I got lost around there and walked past you, and you were sort of listening to your headphones, not looking around. I remember," he chuckled as though taken by an old memory. "You wore that knitted jumper that kept falling off your shoulder, the faded beige one and I just...I was so jealous of you, you were so carefree."

You glanced at him surprised. As far as you knew the first time Hoseok and you met was at a graduation gathering, a friend of a friend sort of a situation. And as you sat there, enjoying your barbecue by the side, wondering whether to dip your ketchup-stained hand in some weed brownies, he came up to you with the brightest smile, talking as though he knew you. Guess he did then know you.

"And the next day I went there again. I didn't even know why but I just did and you were there again. And I kept returning," he smiled at the ground but it quickly vanished. "Every day for a month before I met you at that gathering. Sometimes you were there, a lot of times - not but when you did it lit up my entire day. I didn't know how to approach you though, it's not a thing you do in the middle of the street, you know?"

"No," you affirm faintly.

"And when you left..." Hoseok winced at the mere mention of it. "I still kept going back," his breath was nothing more than a whisper stained with regret. The look in his eyes was downright depressing and you wondered if he had roamed around bearing the same heavy chip that you had. "And our favourite cafe. And your favourite park spot. I was there like...like a ghost lingering in your presence."

"But why did you say then that I was weird?" you sniffled, letting, for the joke of your own mental stability, some of that defence down. Attempting to look at Hoseok without the veil of contempt you've draped over him for a year. Dragging yourself back from hell was hard, dragging yourself from hell when thrust there by the one person you thought wouldn't do that - even harder. But by peeling off at least one cover, you saw many wonderful memories behind it, as slightly tainted as they were.

"I don't know," he groaned, hiding his face in the palm of his hands. "I was stupid. I meant in my heart that you were unlike anyone I've been with before. Not bad but different. And, yes, sometimes I don't understand you but I want to," he rouses to look into your eyes across the room. "I want to. And even if I never fully understand, I would like to make you feel heard and stand by your side nonetheless."

You stare into the sun to avoid crying. Stupid thought as no one ever stared into this glowing orb of light hanging in the sky in order to not get misty-eyed.

"What I said there was, I admit, crass. I was scared because I...with you I don't want to leave. I don't want to call quits when it becomes uncomfortable or becomes uneasy, I want us to grow together. And that scares me because, for the first time, I can really truly get hurt," he exhaled a heavy sigh, voice growing strained. "So when you left, no explanation, just gone in the wind..." he glimpsed over the horizon. "Anyway, I recognise me cornering you like this is wrong but...if you ran away because you felt unloved, I just wanted to show that I'd be chasing after."

Hoseok wiped at his eyes and briskly got up.

"But if you didn't and don't want me, I'll open the doors," from the pocket of his jeans, he fished out a glinting silver key. "I really just wanted to memorize you for as long as I could. I'm sorry."

He opens the doors and you called out -

"Hoseok!"

JIMIN: The phone kept ringing. You'd put it on mute but even so the bright light of the flashing screen stirred you awake and after a brief wrangle of putting the chip bowl actually on the table nearby, kicking your leg free from the grasp of the blanket, you simply watched it ring. After eventually growing into silence, it went to the 45 unanswered calls like the rest. You sighed turned to your side and slid the eye mask over the face, trying to somehow coerce yourself into immediate and indisputable slumber.

This was just the outward manifestation of his bruised ego, nothing more. You don't think anyone had ever rejected Park Jimin so this must be a new, unfamiliar feeling, one he'll get over in time and then maybe even laugh about it years down the line.

I mean, come on, you thought to yourself cutting the words like bloodied post-it notes in your own mind. There's no such thing as a rich handsome guy genuinely falling for someone so...

The disgusting words sprung too freely on the tip of your tongue so you settle for normal. To not at least give into self-hatred so easy. Such was the plot of romantic dramas and fantasies hence why it was fiction. Rich, beautiful people went for other rich beautiful people, normal folks went for normal folks. Dogs did not mix with chickens or pandas with capybaras. It was simply nonsense.

But as you close your eyes, the memories make it harder to be as clinically objective. All too well, you remember. His hands on your face, grasping as though he feared you would leave.

"Why don't you ever believe me?" he asked with heated desperation. "Nothing I say is ever good enough. Nothing is trustworthy!"

You tried to pry him gently away.

"Because how can I believe you? Look at yourself and look at me. This is not even opposites it's...unfathomables!"

You wished partially that he'd go to the good old Mr Park of the beginning, one who'd walked up to you in a cafe and asked if for a fair amount of money you'd be willing to answer his phone and pretend to be his girlfriend. And since the sum he called out was the rate of an onerous monthly rent, you'd plastered the sweetest voice you could in a matter of seconds with no questions asked.

When thinking of all the troubles when he approached you again, completely by accident, you had thought to yourself jail, assault, violence, even cannibalism for good measure, who knew what kind of sicko this stranger could be, but never you considered you'd be scared by the simple fact that he was in love with you. He had been cold, rude and brusque at the start and you had been fine with that, your "job" was to sometimes go to family dinners and lie which while not moral was not a crime.

Only then he invited to accompany him to his office, then to trips, then to movies and then one day you wake up in your bed and Mr Park, once a cold and resigned man, drenched in his own riches, is now making pancakes on your old stovetop and smiles the kindest smile you'd ever seen and asks if you slept well.

How could it not be a scary sight?

"I love you!" he shook you by the shoulders, not hard enough to hurt but as if trying to shake the bad thoughts out. "But you hate yourself! And you never listen!"

"They'll think I'm a gold-digger!" you cried. Just looking around his apartment made you sick. You couldn't even afford his carpet. How could he love someone with whom he shared so little with? He had never known the feeling of counting one's last money to afford bread or not buying something out of impulse. And you had never known the etiquette of polite brutality, of caring about who sits where because one word spoken at the wrong crowd table could destroy your entire livelihood. Love didn't change two profoundly different experiences.

"They don't think that!" he argued. "My parents wanted me to be with someone-"

"Poor?" you interrupted finally wrenching yourself free. Why was he so cruelly saying these things? He will just make you love him and then dump you with nary concern. Like others and then in time you will always think that you should have known better. Should have gotten rid of those rose-tinted glasses sooner not when they're smashed in shatters on the cold concrete.

"No!" Jimin immediately counters. "Of a different social circle! And even if they did, I don't care!"

"But the press-!"

"I don't care!"

"The rest of your relatives and friends-!"

"I don't care!" he yelled back, ripping at his hair, faint tears lingering in his eyes. "What will it take for you to believe me?! Please, why don't you believe me?"

"I can't!" you shrieked back in a sob. "Because better you not love me at all than fall out of it after some time! I don't want to be loved! I don't want to trust! I just want to be alone!"

Alone is what you were now but it felt no better.

"It will," you calmed yourself aloud. "Give it some time and your life will return to how it was."

Boring. Monotone. A single actor performing the most dreadful play to an audience of no spectators. You sniffled punching the pillow. Stupid Park Jimin waltzing into your life and making you think you were not the person you saw in your mind. That you were better. But how can you be when you're always "you"? A nameless face in the crowd, a cog in the machine.

No one, really.

As a sudden hand wraps around your waist, you scream and nearly punch the lights out of the affectionate attacker before in the faint streetlight streaming through the windows you recognized Jimin's eyes.

"How did you get in here?" you rustled in indignation.

"I had a key made. Remember? So I could greet you at home after work," he explained sternly.

"Well, you can't be here now-" you tried to argue, even push him out if needed, but he grasped at your legs and wrestled you to sit atop of him. You always fretted you were too heavy but he never objected.

"I'll leave if you order me to leave. Say those exact words: "Jimin, I want you to leave and never return back."

"I want to be alone," you muttered out of force of habit playing with the neck of his shirt.

"It's not the same," he cupped your cheek. "Until you tell me to piss off in my face, I'll keep chasing you every time you run. You think no one would? I will. Over and over again."

Your lip wobbled.

"It's ungrateful work," you breathed as he tugged you closer into a hug, gently swaying from left to right.

"Not to me."

TAEHYUNG: It takes thirty minutes for your aunt, a known stick in the mud, to go from screaming why was there a whole ass adult man traipsing in the apartment her niece should keep an eye on, to peacefully discussing the best nut selection over the kitchen table with eagerly listening Taehyung on the other side.

You were 35% convinced he knew how to do magic, and 65% convinced he was magic. And if he feasibly could he would live in your asshole. And the worst of all you can't get rid of him.

Well no, the worst of all you don't want to.

Coming from a rough environment, no matter how you slice or dice it, that leaves its own impression upon the mind. Yours being - people leave, people lie, people bad. It was easy to go through life, more than two decades of them in selective solitude, having friends but never letting them too close in and soon after they would stop even being friends. It was easy and predictable and while no one cared for you, you had to care for no one, could go where you wanted, how and when you wanted and fully enjoy doing what you liked.

And then this curly-headed now human reincarnated tiger-bear hybrid showed up. Literally dropping out of nowhere whilst still in university, pointing a finger of his frankly too large of a hand at you and then basically saying: "I want that one, that one's mine". Actually no, he did say exactly those words as you remember faintly chucking a dictionary of law at his head, thinking he'll abduct you or something.

And that's how six years later you were moved in. And he had invaded every part of your life, with his kind words, sopping eyes and chiselled chin.

As Taehyung slowly drifted to sleep, eyes falling heavier, his hand is intertwined with yours. And as you'll go to sleep yourself, despite him having his own bed, inexplicably you'll wake up with his breath against the back of your head.

Which was strange you know. You don't even remember agreeing to be friends with him. But steady as a clockwork, lo' and behold, at two in the morning, Taehyung's thigh squirms in between yours and he sighs in content.

Bizarre to say the least.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asks in wonder, poking his very shirtless body through the crack in the bathroom doors, toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Out?"

"Wait, lemme comme with."

"Can I go out on my own? As the big girl that I am?" you huffed dryly, brows furrowed.

"No," he replied with a smile. Then you walk side by side you glare at your hands, swaying together in the warm air.

"A crazy question, one I'm just putting out there, will you ever...leave?" you ask with a faint frown. There might just be this...supposition, guesswork if you will, in your mind that it might just be that somehow you're...Taehyung's partner now.

"Hmm," he makes an act of pondering it out. "No, no, I don't think I will. Unless you kick me out."

Kick him out. Why didn't you? When previous lovers threw fits about Taehyung always being near, you parted with them with nary of guilt because they were...not your rock. Your rock and safe space had become this strange, occasionally vampiric-looking, a cardigan-loving friend of yours. But he never vocalized it. Or so you thought. He was always teasing you about being hard of emotional hearing, now that you thought about it.

You halted in the middle of the sidewalk and he turns to glimpse at you, curious.

"Taehyung...are you...in love with me?"

Astonishingly, he bursts into a peal of laughter.

"I have been for years now," he chuckles light-heartedly. "Though thank you for finally noticing."

"Wh-why didn't you say something? Anything?"

An expression of deep fondness settles on his face and it warms you like the late summer sun.

"I say "I love you" every day, dumbass. I've chased after you for like six years now. Oh, god," he gasps, sounding suddenly absolutely horrified. "Six years of my life wasted chasing after your stupid head. Oh, I'm an idiot."

"So a moron for a moron, a match made in lower intelligence," you grumble and he snorts at it, crossing the distance once more. When he takes your hand it feels weird for a second. But only for one. You ask yourself what will change and realize - not much.

"That we are Mrs Kim," he coos with a broad grin. "Great! Now I can show you the plans for our shared tombstone I sketched back in the university!"

JUNGKOOK: "He's...will he be staring like that for the entire evening?" your friend asks timidly, voice nearly overshadowed even by the pleasant music of the brunch place. You glimpse over your shoulder to find him aimlessly lounging around. When meeting your gaze, his lips, almost involuntary, spread into a wide grin as his nose scrunches in a manner that is inappropriate for any self-respecting bodyguard. He at least gathers that and sobers with a stern cough.

"Yeah, he's just...my...finance manager," lamely, you trail off but at least they believe it. Considering the last three months it wasn't that believable.

"In a twist of miraculous fate, a poor vintage boutique worker becomes the sole inheritor of the Durhanan Estate," she quotes with a mysterious smile and you squirm awkwardly as you always did when it was bought up. Six years of lawsuits had rendered the luck into a frenzied fever dream one you thought would never come to fruition. Even when the final decision was laid to rest and the lawyers of your great-grandfather popped their champagnes with cheery eyes it all felt so distant. Like a different life. That feeling, you find out, never left.

"Yeah, it's...crazy," you chuckled self-consciously.

"So is the old house haunted?" she questions leaning over the table with keen interest, though every once in a while her gaze does stray worryingly to where Jungkook was standing.

"It's just creepy. It's big...and old," you confess perhaps colouring it with hues too bold, knowing only the answer such as this would satisfy her interest. It was old and entirely too big (who needed thirty-four rooms) but with Jungkook it was less lonely, less of a ghost house and more of a...

No, it's stupid, don't say it, you think to yourself.

"So now that you're rich," she throws a not-so-small of judgemental look over the crystal glass of mimosa. "Will you be forgetting all about us?"

"No," you assure her. "This means nothing. It's just a change of...housing."

But she only scoffs in reply. You think you might not have your best friend much longer.

"You look unhappy," Jungkook reckons quietly, whilst driving back to the Durhanan estate. A nearly 300-year chateau hidden within an unnamed forest deep in the countryside. Once the chief story of the local children's ghost tales and now - your home.

Of sorts.

"I'm just tired," you deny, peering into the rolling landscape of the wilting greenery. A rougher hand suddenly rests atop of yours, stopping them from ripping the skin around the fingernails. Your face swelters with heat and you gently remove his palm.

You were his boss and this was...this was not appropriate.

But Jungkook has other ideas and despite there being thirty-four rooms and whooping nine acres of gardens there's hardly any escape from him.

"My lady, oh, my lady," he calls across the gravel path leading down into the overgrown, ivy-ridden paths. He runs up to you and then gently tucks the bloom of one of the wild roses ravaging the grounds behind your ear. He tries to suppress the smirk on his face and narrows his eyes against the glaring sun.

"You're...you," he stutters. "You doing anything special, tonight?"

You don't quite know why but that question, posed so innocently and presumably out of a need to start a conversation, makes you laugh. It was only you two here, no wifi, piss-poor electricity and the nearest town, a village actually, was thirty-minute drive away and the only thing interesting there was a two-room corner shop.

"Wondering whether we're going to be killed by demons, yes," you laughed lightly.

"I was just wondering whether we could bust out the old reliable solitaire in the library?"

You sigh but it falls more endeared than annoyed.

"Jungkook, stop trying to seduce me."

At first, his face seems to be crestfallen only for a cheeky smirk to appear.

"Trying?" he echoed and slightly leaned into you. A gust of sharp wind broke through the gardens and in sync you glanced at the sky above your heads. A cluster of dark clouds was gathering in the south.

"Let's go in," he urges softly but his body standing behind you flames your back.

A thunder was ripping outside like something crazy, rattling the panes of the window so hard you fretted they would shatter at some point. And the house screamed. Every breeze of the wind seemed to tear into the old floorboards as though they were alive.

Ghosts are not real, ghosts are not real, ghosts are not-

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

You screamed your lungs out, lunging towards the golden candelabra perched on the bedside table.

"You're alright? Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice swims through the dark and you exhale in loud relief.

"Do not! Scare me like that!"

After a moment and a creak of the old floor comes a bashful.

"Sorry."

Another crack of lightning. In the brief flash, you see him standing, unsure but not leaving. It was a bodyguard's duty to protect and he always took his duty quite seriously. Even if this duty was simply to protect you from any unwanted journalists and stalkers where there was none leaving him practically with nothing to do.

"Should I stay here? Protect you...from the storm?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"The storm? That is-"

CRACK!

"Yes, please and thank you," you whimper and not even a second later, the side of your bed dips.

Crickets might as well be chirping at the moment.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" he offers, sweetly, oh so sweetly as if he wasn't a little demon wearing a cheap halo. But still, the house continues its wail. How many lives had been lost in these walls? What stories did they tell?

You didn't want to know and so you agree but as he takes your palm, your hand lands on a very firm set of muscles.

"Jungkook, please retake 9th-grade biology, your six-pack is not a hand."

"It emits the same level of comfort."

He trails your hand higher, over his pecks and lands right on his heart. It drums like a fevered bird underneath your fingertips.

"Why are you so nervous?" you hum and he rolls on his side and settles himself onto the pillow.

"Because I like you. And you like me. Even if you pretend that you don't."

"It's really not ap-"

"Appropriate?" he finishes and then tugs his hands over your waist pulling you closer. "Perhaps not but you know what happens in the spooky old mansion, stays in the spooky old mansion."

His warm palm cups your cheek, stroking it with a dizzied smile.

"And if it doesn't, I'm a really good runner, so you can scurry all you like," a pause. His hand presses you even closer.

368 notes · View notes

cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

nrc & random word prompts

SUMMARY: Random words + NRC students = This

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: This was super fun to write!! Me and a friend of mine did this together,,.., we assigned numbers to twst characters and then used a random number generator and then used a random WORD generator for that character and that's what created this mess.

~~~~~

Heartslabyul

Riddle - Lesson

Lessons with Riddle Rosehearts involve tea on a sunny afternoon, staying at the school library surrounded by highlighters and gen pens. You doodle little things on his notes that he looks back on later with a smile, though he reprimands you during the lessons. He takes pride in your scores as if they were his own, giving you a gentle headpat whenever you finally understand a topic you’ve been struggling with for so long. Lessons with Riddle Rosehearts are warm, productive, and understanding.

Trey - Leader

Leader with Trey Clover is recognizing that he’s more than warmth. It’s knowing that beneath the gentle face and tender gestures, Trey Clover is strong and knowing. He’s perceptive in a way that could be dangerous, yet he usesthis trait to help others. It’s acknowledging how he steps up when Riddle loses his temper, and how valuable he is to his dorm at the end of the day. It’s giving him a bit of praise for once, a forehead kiss or a short hug, and letting him know that you see him.

Cater - Visual

Visual with Cater Diamond is telling him how radiant he is. It’s telling him that it’s not just his attitude you find beautiful, but all of him. It’s you telling him that you’d like to get to know him more, it’s watching his face slowly shift to a vulnerable hesitation, it’s guiding him through opening up. Letting his emotions spill into greens and blues and oranges and purples, instead of the muted yellow that he actively tries to display. It’s showing him that he’s a mural of color, not just a single shade of happiness.

Deuce - Food

Food with Deuce is letting him take a bite of your sandwich and him sharing a dessert his mom sent him with you. His eyes shine when you offer to share food, lips twitching into a smile as you hold out a spoonful of your pudding. You tell him he’s so strong and reliable when he holds the food you buy for his dorm, and he flushes the same shade as the cherry pie Ace shared with you two yesterday. He blushes even harder when you kiss off a spot of sauce or whipped cream smeared on his cheek, little things he does on purpose hoping you’ll do just that.

Ace - Declaration

Declaration with Ace is listening to him spell it all out for you. He’s not going to hide how he feels about you any longer than he has to, especially not when the next day could be your last. It’s more serious than you ever thought it would be, his hands clasping yours with the subtle force of an entire ocean. He doesn’t shy away from your gaze once, but then again, how could he? He’s convinced you’re everything he’s ever wanted, so he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t tell you now.

Savanaclaw

Leona - Thank

Thanks with Leona Kingscholar is knowing that his gratitude is nonverbal. It’s knowing that even though he still acts smug and irritating, he was saved because of you. You think it’s funny how he lets you sleep in his room after Ramshackle Dorm has been taken, and you know full well he would have kicked you out immediately if you were anyone else. It’s knowing that he owes you and exploiting that just a bit, watching with amusement as he rolls his eyes at you and pretends you don't matter. It’s being the slightest bit surprised when a small golden bracelet shows up at Ramshackle once the whole ordeal is over and Leona has gone away for Winter Break. You know it’s only a trinket to him, but the small note left with it just says thanks and you laugh loudly when you recognize Leona’s handwriting.

Jack - Combination

Combination with Jack is helping him care for his cacti. It’s waking up early and rushing to Savanaclaw too give him a water bottle since you know he’s on a run. You join him sometimes,and you notice how he matches your pace. It’s eating together in silence when he doesn’t feel like talking much, and it’s listening to him quietly ramble when something exciting happened. It’s noticing how his tail wags when you talk to him, and it’s holding the small acts of service he does for you close to your heart. It’s returning the favor.

Ruggie - Glow

Glow with Ruggie Bucchi is noticing how he seems to shine in the sunset. It’s being in awe of how beautiful he looks, smirking about the day’s exploits and bragging about how cool he is to you. It’s him noticing how you’re staring and making fun of you for it, but you can’t say anything back because the setting sun is framing his head like a halo. It’s realizing that you’re probably in love with him, and he’s known it longer than you have. His eyes shimmer the second you make that realization, and you know he knows. But like always, as his growing smirk lights up your world brighter than that sun ever could, you can’t bring yourself to take it that seriously.

Octavinelle

Azul - Bridge

Bridge with Azul is knowing how to communicate with him. It’s not letting him walk away, it’s chasing him whenever he feels like he’s going to shut you out, and it’s constantly making your bond stronger. It’s starting out with a tightrope and working your way towards a steel bridge. It’s holding his hand gently whenever he allows it, never pushing him too far outside his comfort zone. It’s staying with him as he holds his head in his hands, the VIP Room silent except for the sound of his quiet sobs. It’s hoping that someday, Azul will realize how beautiful he is and help build the bridge with you, where you two will watch the starry sky as it fades to a rising sun.

Jade - Script

Script with Jade Leech is being just as devious as he is. It’s playing up his act when he needs to be the poor, sad eel. It’s laughing about it later when you’re succeeded in your mission to grab whatever you needed from whomever Azul wanted it from. Jade’s eyes shine at the feeling of mutual understanding, amused that someone he thought would be so boring turns out to be much more like him. You would pretend to be disgusted if he ever compared himself to you, he knows, but would that be so bad? You’re just like him and you know it.

Floyd - Mislead

Mislead with Floyd Leech is finding him funny. You don’t run away or tiptoe around him, and he thinks you’re so interesting for that. You laugh when he makes fun of Kingscholar and you try to hide your smile when he calls Azul cringe. Nobody has ever reacted to him in this way before, since he’s known as sneaky and deceptive and known to mislead. It’s funny how you almost seem to trust him, even though you don’t, and that paradox will interest him forever. It’s giving him something to look forward to every day, a solid foundation that he never really needed but appreciates anyway.

Scarabia

Kalim - Frighten

Frighten with Kalim Al-Asim is acknowledging the evolutionary fear of heights when he takes you on a carpet ride for the first time. He’s so excited he doesn’t think about you at first, and immediately aims straight for the clouds. You shriek as he whoops, relishing the way you cling to him. It isn’t until he turns to you to ask you how the moon looks that he realizes how scared you actually are. His eyes go wide as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you firmly as he slowly descends. You’re trying not to look down, focusing on the beautiful night sky instead, and you’re so absorbed you don’t see Kalim staring. You have the galaxies within your eyes, and he can’t help but laugh because to him, you always have.

Jamil - Scream

Scream with Jamil Viper is killing bugs for him. It’s hearing the very rare shout of surprise from the kitchen and excusing yourself from Kalim immediately. Rushing over and throwing the door open, you’re greeted by the sight of Jamil with his back pressed against the far right corner. His eyes find yours immediately and he points to the stove, whenever a spider sits on the wall. You swallow your own fear and grab the nearby spatula, slapping the hell out of the spider the second you’re close enough. Jamil is composed as he wipes the guts off the wall, and you don’t mention it as you clean off the spatula.

Pomfiore

Vil - Strain

Strain with Vil Schoenheit is watching him work so hard for the SDC. It’s watching the long hours he spends creating the absolute piece of art that is Night Raven College’s show. You give him a bottle of water with a crestfallen face as he pays you no mind. It’s admiring him, watching him soar, and watching him crash as he sees Niege. It’s listening to him check who the most beautiful person is over and over and over, frustrated by the fact that he’s denying words like ambitious, stunning, lovely, hard working, gorgeous. It’s catching him when he falls and helping him back to his feet, having those ambitious stunning lovely hard working gorgeous eyes finally fixed on you.

Rook - Worth

Worth with Rook Hunt is listening to him sing your praises every day. It’s thinking that he’s not genuine because he’s told seven other people the same thing in the last nine hours alone, but having him assure you that he is. It’s him slowly becoming more focused on you once he realizes what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, taking care to compliment the parts of you he finds the most beautiful. Now you’re confused as to why he’s spending so much time on you instead of chasing after some Savanaclaw student, but whenever you bring it up he just holds a finger to his lips and winks. It’s not understanding why he’s so fixated on you, but knowing that someday you’ll figure it out.

Epel - Hostility

Hostility with Epel Felmier is confronting Vil about how he treats Epel. It’s finding out about how Vil has demanded Epel stop speaking with the accent that makes him who he is. It’s you storming into the SDC rehearsal with fire in your eyes, all the anger directed at the one boy who organized all of this. Ace and Deuce are in shock as you storm right up to him, staring Vil Schoenheit right in the eye. Epel’s heart has stopped in his chest, the memories of Vil beating him up flooding back. Your mouth opens and words flood out, piercing and loud and ringing throughout the entire room as you jam your finger into Vil’s chest, over and over and over. Epel knows you’ll get beat up for this just like he does, but he’s so thankful that you thought he was worth fighting for.

Ignihyde

Idia - Shortage

Shortage with Idia Shroud is coming through for him when he needs someone. Ortho needs some new parts for an upgrade Idia desperately wants to do that can’t be ordered online, and Idia doesn’t want to bother Azul any more than he has to. He calls you for help, explaining his situation over the phone in soft whispers and telling you he’ll pay you back. It’s when you agree without hesitation, telling him you’ll stop by Sam’s Shop since he’s sure to have them. He sends you a message with everything he needs and a bunch of thank yous, pale face flushed with gratitude from the other side of the phone. You tell him it’s no problem, that you’d be happy to help him with the upgrade too if he needs it, and now all Idia can think about is how lucky he is to have you.

Ortho - Guest

Guest with Ortho Shroud is coming over when he wants to play a new game. Ortho doesn’t have many friends. He’s only really close to his brother, and recently he’s taken a liking to you as well. Ortho knows your time is Ortho knows your time is monopolized by Grim and a few other students (cough cough), but he’s managed to set aside an entire afternoon on the weekend to play board games with you. India has recommended a few he enjoyed to Ortho, and now he wants to play them! He’s not very competitive but finds it very amusing if you end up all fired up. It’s spending time with the school’s only robot student and treating him like a person, treatment that isn’t common at NRC.

Diasomnia

Malleus - Green

Green with Malleus is taking nighttime walks with him as fireflies light the way. His eyes shine unnaturally in the darkness, but you aren’t afraid. He knows you’re not. It’s letting his hand brush against yours, a silent question that you respond to with intertwining your fingers. It’s not saying a word as you walk, taking in the scenery as you walk side by side, one of the most powerful mages in the world holding your hand with gentleness that others will never receive from him. The thought makes you feel smug, and maybe it’s the occasional envy you feel within you when Malleus is crowded by admirers, but you quell the feeling for now. With all this plant life surrounding you and nobody else around, Malleus is yours.

Sebek - Demonstrate

Demonstrate with Sebek Zigvolt being more absorbed in his body’s closeness to yours than his instruction on how to use a sword. It’s the little gasp that leaves your mouth when he adjusts your stance, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration like he doesn’t understand what he’s doing. He pulls back with a satisfied nod, smirking as he crosses his arms. He makes some comment about even humans being able to handle swords moderately well, and you can’t bring yourself to shoot something equally as snarky back because the spot where his hands brushed your fingers and back are still burning with warmth.

Silver - Lunch

Lunch with Silver is setting up a picnic around him when you find him asleep in the courtyard. It’s waking him up so he’ll eat for once, watching as his hair falls away from his face as he sits up. Silver apologizes and thanks you in one breath, accepting the sandwich you hand him with bleary eyes. It’s selecting the best fruits you had in Ramshackle’s fridge for him and waiting anxiously for his opinion. A soft “it’s good,” it’s all you need to have your heart burst, the warmth from the sun making him seem more radiant than usual.

Lilia - Misplace

Misplace with Lilia Vanrouge is knowing he hates looking for things and stealing his jacket anyway. It’s accepting the fact that you two have the same closet at this point, and that you stealing his clothes is just as acceptable as him stealing yours. It’s explaining where his jacket went when he comes to you for help, already dreading the idea of tearing apart his room to look for such a crucial part of his uniform. It’s having him see you in it and laugh, relieved that he doesn’t have to spend useful time searching for it. It’s Lilia having to take it back from you with a promise of giving you something else to wear later.

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callsignspark · 7 months

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soft-tober | 05 | Jake Seresin

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Jake and Flora with “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.4k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, lots of kissing

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

05. “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.”

“A little to the left… no, right. Left. Right. Don’t you know how to center something, Jake?!”

The blonde man turns on the ladder, eyebrows raised in amusement. “It is centered, Flora. You’re just standing at an angle.”

Her heart drops as she looks around, realizing she is off-center. A couple scoots to the left tells her that Jake does have the wreath perfectly centered on the balcony.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is muffled as she rubs at her eyes. Flora knows she’s being ridiculous, putting way too much effort into decorating for the shop-or-treat the business of Madison Ave are hosting during the fall block party. Staying open later than usual to hand out candy to costumed children while their parents patronize the shops.

She’s trying her hardest to appeal to kids so they’ll drag their parents inside. A florist isn’t exciting to little ones, not when there’s a bakery three doors down and a comic book store across the street. So the décor - a strategic blend of fall and Halloween - is going to be doing the heavy lifting to get people to stay for longer than it takes to put a Snickers in a pumpkin bucket.

Jake climbs down the ladder after securing the wreath in place, wrapping his arms around Flora and pulling her into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again, her face pressed against his strong chest.

“It’s okay.” He reassures her, his warm hands rubbing her back. “I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to worry about Studio Cacti taking over.”

Studio Cacti. Another florist shop that opened up over the summer only two blocks away. Owned by some snobby girl who was paying the bills with Daddy’s money. Flora felt hypocritical saying that, considering how she paid for the shop’s remodel and the new flower cooler, but she had started all on her own. Scrimping and saving, pouring every available cent into her shop. During that first year, she had even slept on an air mattress in her office, unable to afford the store mortgage and her apartment rent at the same time.

“Yes, I do, Jake. She’s got more money at her disposal than I’ll make in my entire life. When push comes to shove, she’ll win because she can afford it.”

“Trust me, I have a few ideas, and if I can get everything into place, you’ll be the most successful florist in the city, maybe even the county.”

Flora pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ears as she stares at Jake. The smug look on his face should make her wary - should turn her off - but it doesn’t. It makes her feel giddy whenever she sees it; she’s pretty sure he Pavloved her with his bright smile.

“And am I allowed to know about these plans?”

“Nope, just worry about shop-or-treat for now.”

“It’s my shop, Jacob.”

“God, I love when you call me that.”

“Focus.”

The undignified noise that escapes as he squats down and wraps her legs around his waist makes her cheeks burn. Usually, she hates when men try to pick her up, but she never hates when Jake does it. Flora is taken off guard again when he plops her on the counter next to the register, using the distraction to ignore the voice telling her it’s okay when Jake does it because she likes him.

“I am focused, Phillips. C’mere.”

He kisses her just like he did the first time, like he’s done every time. Gentle at first, simply pressing their lips together as he cups her neck, then he tugs her closer, intensity increasing as he tests the waters to see if she wants to go further.

Normally, she’s all in for a good makeout session, one where his big hands will roam and caress her body in just the right way that will lead to them being naked later on, but tonight, she pulls back.

“Can we do a test run?”

“A test- of what?”

“Of shop-or-treat. You go out and come in pretending to be a kid. Use fresh eyes; look for anything that needs improving.”

“You want me to pretend to be a ten-year-old boy?”

“It should be easy; that’s how mature you are.” She regrets the snipe as soon as it leaves her mouth, Jake immediately attacking her sides. Flora holds out for about five seconds, laughter bubbling out as she gives in. “Uncle! Uncle!”

“I just want to put it on record that I think this is a dumb idea because everything is already great, but I’m doing this anyway. For you.”

She hates the way her heart flutters at his wink. They had agreed to be friends-with-benefits, nothing more. Heart thumping was definitely not within the bounds of their agreement. Maybe it was time to end the arrangement.

The bells ring as Jake walks back in, doing exactly what she asked and interrupting her thoughts. Green eyes big and round as he looks around the store like a kid in a candy shop. His eyebrows furrow slightly at different points in the room, and Flora knows he’s making mental notes on what needs to be changed.

She lets him go on for a few minutes, swinging her legs and admiring how his gray t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Shoulders that probably still have marks where her nails dug into him a few days ago.

“Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?” He asks as he finishes his examination, standing a few feet in front of her.

“Trick or treat?”

“Well… depends on if you’re the treat or not.” He laughs as she whines his name. “Everything is great. The only thing that’s going to make it better is us finishing what you already had planned.”

“Really?”

“Even the most sticky, snotty-nose brat will want to come into the flower shop with the pretty lady behind the counter.”

Flora’s breath hitches as he crowds into her space, hands tugging her hips closer as their lips meet. She melts into the kiss, sinking her hands into his hair. It’s getting a bit long; he’ll need to get a trim soon so he’s up to regulations, but she loves how it feels between her fingers. He’s the only man she didn’t have to introduce to conditioner, his sisters taking care of that lesson back in high school.

“Excuse me, are you open?”

Her internal debate about whether to hook her legs around him here or pull him up to her office and put the couch to good use is interrupted as they break apart.

“What?” Flora pants, brain still scrambled from how Jake was grabbing at her thighs.

“Are you open?”

“No, ma’am; I’m sorry, we’re not open right now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! I wanted to get flowers for my daughter, she just gave birth! Lilies are her favorite, and I saw your case through the window. You have the most beautiful options.”

“I’m sorry if you want to come back-”

“Is it your first grandchild?” Jake interrupts, sliding Flora off the counter.

“It is! A little girl!”

“Congratulations!” He smiles, turning to Flora. “Take the sale; I’ll finish decorating.”

A kiss on her forehead, and he’s making his way up the stairs, unraveling leaf garland to wrap around the banister.

She’s only slightly distracted as she puts together a bouquet filled with white lilies, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus for the new grandmother, Jake constantly on her mind. And after cashing out her newest customer and locking the door, Flora makes her way upstairs. Her heart soft as she watches Jake carefully string twinkle lights along the railing he just finished decorating, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin'?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” His pretty green eyes blink up at her in confusion, and she realizes she’s not quite sure how to answer.

Thank you for helping decorate.

Thank you for understanding about how much I work.

Thank you for accepting that I can only do friends-with-benefits with you.

“Just… for everything.”

“Of course, whatever you need, Flora. You know that.”

She feels herself weakening as he stands up and saunters over to her, his smile so big that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. This time, Flora doesn’t make a noise when he lifts her; just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. The two of them giggling when Jake drops her onto the couch and climbs on top of her, hooking her legs over his hips.

The decorating is so not getting finished tonight… oh well.

#elle’s soft october #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #DSS universe #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #Xs and Os fic #X&O fic #elle writes

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

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How do you think the M6 would react to a lying MC? Whether it’s to them or some one else is up to you or how extreme the lie is. Thank you, Arcana Headcannon Jesus <3

The Arcana HCs: M6 and the lies MC tries to tell them

~ oh boy, i did not expect being called Arcana Headcannon Jesus to hit my religious trauma like that, that was a vibe check lol

considering how in the stories MC tends to omit the truth at worst and be painfully blunt at best, i'm going to write them as a terrible liar just as a personal design choice. and also because it makes me laugh. thanks for the prompt, anon, i hope it makes you smile! - brainrot ~

Julian

You can totally read his handwriting

You love it when he writes you love letters, they warm your heart, but truthfully you can only make out maybe a quarter of the words on the page

But you can't tell him that because you don't want him to feel like all that beautiful poetry went to waste

At least you think it was poetry

You're running some errands, does he need anything?

Ah, a list of obscure medical devices. Which may or may not be available. And he wrote it down for you, how sweet!

You're so busy trying to decipher the ink blotches that you don't notice his smirk

He totally believes you can read his writing, and all the words on the paper are totally not made up medical jargon

He never says anything because he lives for the moment he can bend over your shoulder and murmur the words he wrote into your quickly reddening ear

Asra

You don't mind the questionable objects they bring into the shop without warning at all

Nope, not the bidet-shaped flamethrower

Or the screeching rattle he replaced the shop's front door bell with that makes every incoming customer jump

Or their favorite painting containing colors that the human eye was not intended to see, prominently hung on your kitchen wall

Or the jar of kool-aid pickled garlic, which he still can't open even though it's been slowly emitting a toxic stench for the last month, and which he refuses to part with because he hasn't been able to try it yet

They love you, but they love pranking you too, and seeing your reactions makes them giggle

He would never cause you any harm though

Which is why their collection of poison spitting cacti stays in a pocket realm, next to the void that wouldn't stop teaching the stove salamander explosive curse words

Nadia

You know royal etiquette like it's second nature

You know all the titles there are, you never get things like pontifex and praetor and procurator mixed up

The table place settings make total sense, who wouldn't use a slightly different type of fork to eat every kind of dish?

And nothing entertains you more than petty politics, nothing at all

In fact, you don't even find Nadia's highly accomplished family remotely intimidating

They're perfectly normal people, just like you, and you are just like them, every move is graceful and your clothes are always pristine

Nadia adores your spirited approach and will happily move purposefully slowly at the dinner table so you know which fork to grab and how to eat the complicated dishes that get served

According to her, you know what you're doing better than anyone else does

Muriel

You can reach and lift anything he can, no problem

You just need a little more time, but you'll get it

You can get the fallen tree split up for firewood and carted into storage, no biggie

Okay so the sun is setting now and you started before lunch and it never takes him longer than half an hour, but you took a lot of breaks okay

But if he wants to spend time with you that badly, he can help a little

Now you just need to lift those bowls down to eat, you've got this, you're a good climber

You never develop any suspicions around why daily necessities always end up on the top shelves, or why Muriel is so open to you helping with outside chores

He likes being needed

The face you make when you're frustrated is adorable

And he loves that you will never admit it

Portia

Please, you can absolutely keep up with her energy levels

Walking to the palace to get a shopping list

And trekking down into the city and through the floating market, the center marketplace, and the south end market to get everything

All to climb back up countless stairs with all your purchases

And walk through all the hallways to give everything to the multitude of requesters

And then back to the cottage for the evening

So you can cook the big evening meal and sweep and mop the floors and spend a few hours weeding the garden

And then all the way back out to the Rowdy Raven for a night of drinking and dancing

And then all the way back home so you can go to bed

She never pressures you to join her, but she always invites you

Hey, she likes spending time with you and you're cute when you're flushed

Lucio

You believe all his tall tales, they're so realistic

Dove to the depths of the ocean and defeated a giant minnow? Totally

Took out a thousand trained killers with one swipe of his mighty gauntlet? Mmmhm

Climbed to the top of the highest mountain to pluck some stars from the sky, which is how he got these diamonds? Of course

He can go days without eating or drinking and never crave sustenance? That tracks, he doesn't have a gluttonous bone in his body

He knows he can be narcissistic sometimes, but he's not *that* delusional

But he likes seeing your little smile as you indulge his fantasies, because you do it out of love and not mockery

And maybe he likes pretending just for a minute that what he's saying is true

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana shitpost #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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sunshiline-writes · 9 months

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Desert Whump Prompts

As a true desert rat, I decided to give people some desert whump prompts for your liking. a lot of this is mostly environmental whump but yeah. Let me know if you'd like me to do more!!!

The sun is so bright and is in the sky for so long, if you leave a whumpee outside in the sun they will BAKE so quickly. Tie them to a post with their shirt off and let them BURN.

Make a whumpee work in the sun and give them heatstroke. Fainting, vomiting, dizziness, headache, feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Its very FUN!

Nighttime in the desert in contrast is very COLD so if you really want to punish whumpee for having heatstroke during the day, leave them out at night with no blankets (or clothes) and see if they like that better!

Cacti are also very fun to throw a whumpee in! There are different types of cacti too! If you want to throw your whumpee into a pit of jumping cactus they’re very small and their needles hook into the skin. They also itch like a bitch even when they’re out of the skin.

Tie a whumpee to a saguaro cactus! Their needles can grow up to two to three inches long! So tying up a whumpee to that type of cacti nice and tight, so they sink into the needles (free acupuncture!!) can also be very fun

Rattlesnake bites! Those are very painful and very very deadly. They can kill you if you don’t get to the hospital fast enough. They cause chills, seizures, vomiting, muscle spasms, and more. Very fun if a whumper has the anti venom and likes to watch how whumpee reacts to the snake bite

#whumpblr #whump blog #whump prompts #desert whump #environmental whump #sunshine writes whump

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miracles-and-butterflies · 3 months

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For @jacarandaaaas, based on the premise of “Julieta cooking with her daughters as a bonding exercise.”

Post rebuild, Julieta encourages her three girls to make arepas with her. Somewhere along the way it becomes a competition and chaos ensues. But she still loves them.

My Cooking Skills (do not run in the family)

“What? No!” Luisa jumped, already moving to block the doorway. “You aren’t coming in my kitchen, demon!”

Isabela snickered. Luisa getting way too aggressive in the kitchen was always amusing. She pushed at a bicep, with no success. “Come on, stand aside, sis. Papa said Mama wants to see me in here.”

“That’s weird, he said the same thing to me.” Luisa mumbled to herself. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Luisa, you don’t own the fucking kitchen.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a—”

“Oh, hi hermanas,” came Mirabel’s voice, having appeared just behind Isabela. She wasn’t paying too much attention to what they were doing, which explained why they hadn’t been immediately lectured for it. She was somehow walking while also keeping her attention on her embroidery ring. “Does Mama want to speak with you both, too?”

“Yep. But try telling chef Luisa that.”

“I’m not letting you in my kitchen, every time I do you ruin what I’m cooking.” Luisa snapped, crossing her arms. “Wait, so Mama does actually want to speak with all of us? Isabela wasn’t just lying?”

Isabela swat a handful of petals at her. “I’m starting to hope she doesn’t, just so I can annoy you.”

Luisa glared at her, Isabela happily glared back. She had missed this. Their little, petty rivalries from when they were younger.

Finally, their mother stepped over, tying up her apron. She smiled at her girls before realising that Isabela and Luisa were engaged in a staring contest. She cleared her throat, unceremoniously.

“Ha! You blinked, I won!” Isabela exclaimed.

“Luisa, let your sisters in.” Julieta called.

Luisa spluttered. “But Bela—”

“Is going to behave herself in the kitchen. Aren’t you, Isabelita?” She stopped her eldest as she passed Luisa, giving her a pointed look. Isabela mocked a look of offence before agreeing, though she did stick her tongue out at Luisa before taking a seat on the counter. “Why do I think I’ve called you three here today?”

“To tell us that you love us?” Isabela suggested, half-joking.

At the same time, Luisa winced, scratching the back of her head nervously. “To tell Isabela and I off for stealing a bottle of wine for our sleepover with Dolores last weekend.”

“I do love you, but that is not what I—” their mother stopped for a minute. They could almost see her hair getting greyer. “You three did what?”

“It was Isabela’s fault. She stole it.” Luisa accused.

“It was Dolores’ idea.” Isabela added.

She let out a heavy sigh, “We’ll talk about that with your cousin and Tía later. But, for now, I’ve brought you three in here to do some cooking with me.”

The idea was not met with much or any enthusiasm from the girls. Isabela rolled her eyes before suddenly smirking with mischief; Luisa initially lit up before realising what exactly it meant and deflated. Julieta was prepared for what drama it would be like having those two in the kitchen together.

The last time they had was when Isabela was six and Luisa was four, just after Mirabel’s birth. She had been hoping to spend some nice quality time with her daughters, so they didn’t feel too replaced with attention by the new baby. And it ended with a massive food fight, some inedible and flora filled obleas, and the pair of them being grounded for biting each other. A few months ago, she would have confidently said that they wouldn’t be like that now. Now? She wasn’t as confident and seriously doubted her judgement.

“That’s just great, Mama. Luisa was just telling me how much she loves it when I help her in the kitchen, weren’t you, sis?” Isabela prompted. Trying her best to lean on her taller sister.

“I will feed your cacti to a donkey.” Luisa said through gritted teeth, but kept the smile for her mother and nodded her head like she agreed. “Thank you, Mama, for this wonderful afternoon. I can’t wait to get started and cook with my two lovely sisters. Can I just ask, why are you making us do this?”

She chuckled, “Well, I just thought it would be nice for us to spend some together. And that some of us could put the embroidery down and socialise for a change.”

Her change in tone did have the wanted effect as Mirabel did look up from the bird she was sewing, glancing at the three of them in turn.

“I’m listening,” the girl insisted before immediately going back to her needle.

“Wrong move, little sis.” Isabela whispered under her breath. Just loud enough for Luisa, who found herself swallowing nervously, to give a hum of agreement.

Mirabel yelped when Julieta tore the thing from her hand. “You can have it back when we are finished,” their mother stated. She set on a shelf, well out of Mirabel’s reach, before directing her to go stand alongside her sisters. She walked off to go get aprons for the three before Mirabel could start her usual concerns about the risk of her embroidery getting ruined.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Mirabel asked her sisters.

“I don’t know, Mirabel, we’re in the kitchen. What do you think we’re doing? I think we’re gonna go swimming!” Isabela retorted.

“I know that, but what are we cooking is what I meant?” Mirabel corrected, huffing a little at Isabela’s childishness. She turned to Luisa, but she only offered her a shrug.

Julieta returned, tossing an apron to each of her girls. Isabela and Luisa both went for the same one and then squabbled about it for the next two minutes - it was Luisa’s usual apron, for she often helped Julieta in the kitchen, but Isabela was clearly just looking to stir the pot of Luisa’s baking anger. Finally, work done, she gave in and let Luisa have it, taking the remaining apron.

She didn’t attempt to let the three try agree on a recipe; she was well aware how that would go. So she herself chose to make arepas. It was something that they could all do. Luisa is just a good a cook as she was herself and would find it no bother, which meant she could potentially help one of her sisters while Julieta helped the other. Mirabel could cook, she was just very slow and pedantic - and couldn’t bring herself to deviate from instructions, ensuring everything looked picture perfect to the recipe book. And Isabela? Well… she was never allowed in the kitchen, so today would be interesting.

“Now, this isn’t a competition, so you can all take your time.” Julieta reminded.

Luisa nodded. “That’s fine. We all know mine are the best.”

“It’s going to be mine. Mine will win.” Isabela argued. She looked down at Luisa’s bowl. “Yours… I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

“It’s the exact same as yours! Just a bowl full of corn meal and water!”

“You remember when Antonio was a baby and he was sick on Tío Félix’s shoulder that one time at dinner? Yeah, that’s what yours looks like.”

“Well, you’re not gonna have anything left if you keeping mixing it so hard. Stop splashing me!”

“You’re just jealous that I’m the fastest here.” Isabela scoffed. “I mean, look at Mirabel. Her bowl’s still empty.”

Mirabel clicked her tongue. “Unlike you two, I am following a recipe book and measuring out my ingredients. We are just cooking. It’s not a competition. And, even if it were, the taking part and having fun is what counts.”

“That’s what losers say.” Isabela and Luisa both muttered coincidentally. They both shared a high five before going back to mixing.

“Ay, don’t bully your sister.” Julieta said. “But Mirabel, you’ve measured the corn meal out several times now. It’s not going to have changed, mi amor, you can add it into your bowl.”

“But I’m not sure it is—”

“It is, Mirabel. I’ve told you twice.”

“Even if it isn’t, you can just add it, hermanita. It doesn’t matter.” Luisa piped up.

“It does matter! Everything in life matters.” Mirabel countered, as though Luisa saying that had shattered her entire world. She continued to mutter to herself as she began measuring again, just to be sure. “Even the smallest things matter. Every step, every word, every stitch, every grain—”

Isabela interrupted. “You’re still like seven small steps behind us, sis.”

Before anybody could say anything more, Isabela dumped her clump of dough onto the countertop with an audible splat.

“Okay, there’s no way that’s done.” Julieta chided.

“Look how wet it is— keep it on your side of the fucking counter!” Luisa demanded, shoving it aside, trying to shield her dough from any drops from Isabela’s tainted dough.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Isabela continued. “It’ll dry when it’s cooking.”

As they both began to shape their dough, nobody noticed the vines picking up the relatively empty jug of water and pouring it on Luisa. Most of it went her head, but a few drops landed on the counter, brushing against her dough.

“You look a little wet, Lulu.”

“Fuck you, Bela!”

“You wanna take this outside, brawn?”

“I will rip your arm out of its socket and then let’s see you try grow shit.”

“Luisa, Isabela! Behave yourselves. You aren’t children.” Julieta stared them down for a long minute, shaking her head. “No me importa la edad que tengas, igual te regañaré.”

Isabela and Luisa progressed in a very similar fashion. Occasional bickering and bragging about who was doing better, but they were getting through it a relatively decent pace. Julieta couldn’t tell whether or not Luisa was enjoying Isabela’s company, she seemed to flick from happily laughing or playing along to threatening Isabela with a rolling pin.

Julieta had taken the time to prepare various fillings for the girls, most of it had just been left overs from over the last few days.

“You’re doing shit, Bela.” Luisa chuckled to herself.

Julieta came over and corrected her daughter. “Just try doing it a little bit gentler. See? That’s much better.” She cast a glance at Luisa, who didn’t need help. “Don’t insult your sister. It is important to help and encourage people while they are cooking, you wouldn’t want to get in their head and make them think that they can’t cook.”

“Yeah, especially when they’re beside someone who is doing really well.” Luisa snarked, proudly.

Isabela poked a finger at one of Luisa’s arepas on the stove top, earning a disgruntled cry from her sister as she hurried to fix it. She, meanwhile, presented her final completed arepa to her mother.

Julieta blinked at the arepa. “Um, that isn’t—”

“I shaped mine into cacti.” Isabela explained.

“Isabela’s trying to go for the creative points because she can’t win on anything else.” Luisa cackled.

“Bitch, I will shove yours off the stove to the floor.”

Their mother quickly intervened stepping between the two. “No, nobody is touching the stove top. Isabela, here, let me show you how to cook them.”

“What do you mean how?” She asked. “I leave them and come back in an hour to eat them.”

Luisa burst out laughing. “If you want to burn them, then sure.”

“This is why you are meant to follow the instructions,” Mirabel’s voice rang, smug as anything.

“Sis, you have only just made it on to step four. You’re not better than me at anything—”

“I’m on step three, actually… which I am realising is not much better. Give me twenty minutes to think of a better comeback.”

“No, arepas don’t take that long. And you have to flip them, Isabela. You can’t leave them.” Julieta went on to explain. She managed to convince Luisa to step aside for a moment, so she could show Isabela what she needed to do.

The next few minutes had passed without anything of note. Isabela stopped mucking around long enough to at least attempt flipping her arepas. Luisa decided she was going to make a topping from scratch, just to show off her culinary skills. And Mirabel was slowly catching up to her sisters.

The enticing smell coming from the kitchen later prompted Agustín to come check how his girls were doing. Only to find them not in the kitchen and cooking like he expected. Isabela and Luisa were giggling in the dining room over three plates of (very different looking) arepas that Julieta had set down. Mirabel was cleaning dishes in the kitchen.

“Something smells good,” he commented.

“We’ve been cooking, Papí,” Luisa explained, happily learning back for a kiss on her forehead as he hugged her.

“You should try them. Tell us which one’s the best.” Isabela went on to add. While he stopped to give her a kiss in their embrace, she then whispered, “It’s going to be mine, but let’s not destroy Luisa’s ego too quickly. She’s very fragile.”

He chuckled before kissing Julieta on the lips. “No disasters this time?” He asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she teased. “I’ll go get Mirabel.”

He settled into a seat on the other side of Isabela. “You two didn’t leave your little sister to clean your mess alone, did you?”

“She wanted to do it.” Isabela shrugged.

“We were kicked out for splashing each other again.” Luisa answered honestly.

Mirabel went for the chair the other side of Luisa, seeing as Julieta had taken the one on Agustín’s other side. But not before he gave her a quick pat on the hand - she wasn’t as physically affectionate as the other two, especially after getting caught in a collapsing building.

“Can you guess whose is whose?” Luisa inquired, gesturing to the three plates.

The plates weren’t their usual signature ones, instead just plain and white. Each with five arepas. The one on his left had them all set with a good helping of fried chorizo, some vegetables and spices. The middle were just set on the plate, off-shape and cooked to various levels, piled high with leftovers. The one on his right were all neatly aligned against one another, perfectly coloured and symmetrical, sprinkled with a few herbs and some small flowers as a garnish.

“Yours is the left - I’ve seen it on my breakfast plate before. Middle is Isa’s because she made it as different as humanly possible. Right is Mirabel’s because it looks like it came out of a fancy painting or something. She definitely wins for presentation.”

“Well, nobody told me to plate it like that!” Isabela slumped back into her chair.

Mirabel hummed, “I don’t have many skills, but I can make things look good. I wasn’t adventurous at all with mine, but I like my arepa con quesos plain. I’ll take the win; people do say you eat with your eyes.”

“Congratulations, Mira. You make a very pretty meal.” Luisa praised. “But the real factor is how good it tastes, so it doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“…When did you become so competitive?”

“Back when you were still twelve steps behind, keep up.”

The tasting of the dishes had gone as anyone would expect: Mirabel’s being good, simple and plain; Isabela’s being hardly edible but they got a good laugh out of it; Luisa’s were obviously the best of the lot and she bragged indefinitely about the win. Though it was later admitted that Luisa and Isabela had both tempered with each other’s arepas, so who could really say was the winner?

“So, what are you going to make next?”

“I think we’re done with cooking,” Julieta said. “Why don’t you take them to try one of your hobbies, mi vida?”

“Um, yes?” Isabela exclaimed, standing up. “I’d be so good with an axe.”

Luisa scoffed, leaning over to Mirabel. “How long do you think it would take for her to accidentally chop a finger off?”

“Who says that Pa will make us do carpentry anyways? He might have us do something more musical.” Mirabel challenged. “Which would be an instant win for me as you two can’t read sheet music or play instruments.”

As the three girls descended into playful bickering, Agustín pulled Julieta in for a hug.

“I love our girls.”

“I do, too.”

#encanto #my writing #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #the cold family #julieta x agustín

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thatbanditqueen · 11 months

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George's Garage

An Elvis Presley one-shot response to the prompt: How are we going to solve this problem?

Summary: Elvis and the Memphis Mafia are driving back to Hollywood from Memphis to shoot Kissin' Cousins, when the car breaks down on Route 66. Luckily they are not too far from George's garage and her skilled, lady mechanic fingers.

Warnings: 18+ DNI, E to L (ish), fellatio, swearing, implied drug use. Also some minor historical inaccuracies. ALL THE TYPOS. Written in haste under pressure. Sort of.

Word Count: Yeah, this one got away from me.... 7.5 K

Saturday, October 5, 1963

They were an hour away from Needles, and the crisp, hot midday air blew over Billy’s face as as he steadied his arm on the white convertible. He turned his eyes to the burnt desert, taking in the cacti and shrubbery below a clear, powder blue sky. The Yucca trees stood tall, like hunched warriors in the distance, bent over and ready to descend on Elvis’ caravan racing along the highway. The radio fizzled and Billy turned to watch Elvis roll the dial knob between his fingers until he got reception and began singing along to Bobby Vinton’s latest hit, “Blue Velvet,” in an offkey high voice, laughing at himself. Billy forced a smile and twisted awkwardly in his seat, the blue leather creaked under him, and he wished he was back in Memphis eating dinner with Jo. He’d been riding shotgun the last four days ago. His butt ached and he was struggling to stay on the same mental frequency as his cousin, who had started the trip with the same high enthusiasm he usually had for the road. However, the closer they got to Hollywood, the more erratic Elvis’ mood had become. He had ranged from being introspective and engaging, talking softly and seriously about plans to expand Graceland, to despondent rants about how nice it was to be with the guys away from women. Billy assumed this specifically referred to one woman in particular and her persistent requests to come to Los Angeles with them. Then there had been the violent tantrums about "that embarrassin,' sorry-ass excuse for a” movie they were driving to LA to shoot, every time Joe brought up the fact that they were supposed to be in LA already. Elvis began halting their progress even more after the fight with Joe. There were now impromptu football games on the side of the road several times a day, meals had become long, leisurely affairs and each stop along the way involved intense pranks. Billy had rings of black shoe shine around his eyes for the better part of yesterday after looking though a pair of Elvis’ binoculars. Though he'd had been glad to see Elvis smile, even if it was at his expense.

The Buick drove on, and Billy watched Elvis adjust the black yachting hat on his head.

“Man oh man, Joe says we’re ‘posed to film all the Great Smoky scenes in Big Bear. Big Bear! Can ya believe it? Ain’t no one gonna believe those scraggly ass sorry California ant hills are the Blue Ridge mountains. I can tell you that, man. I can tell you that.”

Billy tightened his smile and contemplated the right thing to say.

“I said, can ya believe that?” Elvis jabbed Billy expectantly. “With me, ME, of all people, goddammit. Those Hollywood jackasses ain’t ever even been to Tennessee and they want me to go round chasin’ after my cousin’s coochie like some inbred hillbilly pretendin’ Big Bear is goddamn Cades Cove.”

“You know ain’t no one looking at the background EP, specially not with you bein’ all handsome, uh, up der on the screen. Singing the way you do. With all those beautiful girls. Shouldn't worry so much, everything is gonna be good.”

Elvis looked ahead, grunting, while Billy turned his head around to look back and nod at Alan driving the motor home behind them, seemingly laughing and smoking a cigar with Red, Sonny and Joe. Alan tipped his head with a wink, and Billy rolled his eyes, jarred from his backwards view by the slap of Elvis’ hand.

“Hey, man, hey, hand me my toiletries, huh Billum?”

Billy nodded with a “Sure,” and reached his hand back along the floor of the back seat. Not finding it through touch, Billy flipped around and began to panic, because Billy was an observant man. He knew what Elvis’ black travel case full of pills looked like. And as he stared down at the blue carpeted floor beneath him he did not see it there. He also knew that when he reported this to Elvis he was going to regret coming on this trip more than he already did. So he squirmed, letting the expensice, custom blue leather squeak under him as he shifted from side-to-side, hesitating to meet Elvis’ eyes in the rear view mirror. Ten minutes later, Billy was leaning against the side of the RV smoking in Sonny’s shadow and staring silently at Joe and Red while Elvis stomped up and down the motor home screeching at Alan.

“Whatcha mean you ain’t seen it? Ya hog-eared fat, useless sonabitch. I - I -I.” They heard the sound of trampling feet stop. “Goddamit, I ‘member vividly handin’ it to you, and telling you ta put in the back seat of the car.”

They could hear Alan’s pitiful words stammer out through the walls. “I musta - musta put it down in the bathroom at that rest stop.”

“I musta put it down in the bathroom in that rest stop!” Elvis high vibrato mimicking Alan reverberated through the metal, and Billy saw Red shoot Sonny a knowing look as they listened. “Well you’re the one whose gonna ‘splain ta Billy why he and I are turnin’ around and going back.”

The mood in the car was decidedly different three hours later as the Buick sped over the same stretch of pavement flying through the Yucca Valley and past Needles. Billy was still in the convertible, trying to think of any reasonable excuse why he needed to be in the RV with the others. Now he sat quietly, nodding occasionally as Elvis muttered angrily to himself, his black toiletry case neatly tucked next to Billy’s feet in the car cabin. Billy started planning out how he would explain why Joe should be driving with Elvis to go over the upcoming filming schedule, and he planned to suggest this when they eventually caught up to the others. He wondered if the guys were already at the motel in Barstow, but did not have long to contemplate his escape from these close quarters with Elvis before a milky white cloud of smoke exploded out of the engine in front of them and he found himself clutching the seat for dear life as Elvis guided the sputtering Buick to the side of the road.

Billy was once again leaning against a car smoking. He was not exactly sure where they were, somewhere between between Needles and Barstow, he figured. However, the desire to know precisely where they were was secondary to his innate desire to not be there at all. Where ever here actually was. Billy watched a lizard crawl over the warm road, then scamper off at the sound of Elvis shrill high pitched screams. Billy had never wished more fervently that he was a lizard, or anything else at all, actually, then in that moment as he looked at the reptile slither off the road away from the sound of Elvis kicking the front tire, his voice ringing out through the stillness of the Mojave desert at sunset.

“GODDDAMMIT! God fucking dammit. GOD. DAMN. IT.”

Billy wiped the sweat off his forehead and squinting at what looked like a cluster of buildings further along on the horizon.

************************************************************************

The office counter fan pushed cool air on George and blew her dark brown curls into her face. She tucked them back behind her ear as she stared down at her crossword puzzle and bobbed a pencil against her lip in contemplation, sucking it momentarily.

“Five letter word for neckwear. Hmmm.”

Frustrated, she moved on to the next across word clue, pausing as her eyes roamed over the stack of paperwork she was supposed to be working on.

“Ugh, c’mon, just knock out these orders and then you can close up. It’s almost 6.”

Nodding to the sound of her own voice, George had just resolved to set aside the crossword puzzle when the front door bell startled her and she looked up to see two men stagger into the office, panting and laughing.

The one in front had on a black yachting hat, and his head was down as he tucked his shirt in. There across his neck was a jaunty, white decorative scarf held by a golden cravat.

“Ascot!” Georgie exclaimed, grabbing her pencil and excitedly filling in 5 Across. But her smile quickly faded as she looked up to see the quizzical face of Elvis Presley looking back.

“Huh, yeah, uh huh.” He pushed his gold cravat up his very short, very shiny, very expensive white silk ascot tie.

Elvis’ face went from confused to confident as he steadied himself, placing his thumbs in his belt loops, and sauntering up to the counter to lay his hand down. He moved it over George’s hand in an instantly familiar and somewhat intensely intimate manner. George was not prepared for the sweaty, pit stained lanky mass of charisma now rubbing his thumb along side the pinky of her left hand.

“Like that, huh, darlin?” Elvis winked, and tugged at the edge of the ascot as he purred. “Listen, is your boss around?”

George looked down at her hand, Elvis’ forwardness had shocked her and she recoiled into herself for a moment before pulling her hand away. She glanced at the short, skinny guy behind him who was avoiding her gaze and suddenly taking an intense interest in the photos hanging on the office wall.

It had been almost ten years since he first began performing, yet, watching women's awestruck expressions still gave Elvis a warm rush and made him feel special. Elvis winked at George, and decided to try and make her feel comfortable.

He smiled shyly and looked down, grasping her hand back up between his.

“Shhh, s’ok , honey, it's ok, now."

He sucked in a deep breath, chuckling.

"I, uh, I really would rather ya treated me like a normal person. No need to get flustered.”

He turned his blue eyes back up to her and waggled his eyebrows.

“So, uh, now, c’mon honey, can you grab ya boss, hmmm? We’re in need of help somethin' awful.”

“Well, honey,” George collected her self, and pulled her hand back. Again. She looked Elvis in the eyes, glancing back at his ascot for a moment. What a pointless, ridiculous, pompous accessory. “I assure you I am not flustered.”

“Well, uh, good, then. I reckon that ya can hop to it, woman, go get ya boss.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, tilting his head to the side door that led to the garage. “We need ta get back on tha - “

Billy squinted and looked closer at one of the photos, and turned to interrupt his cousin.

“Hey, EP, I th-th-th —”

“Shhh, Billy, just a second.”

George pursed her lips and then smiled tightly.

“Why don’t you tell me what brings you guys in tonight?”

Elvis grinned at her, the length of his chin extended as the right side of his mouth crooked up in another smile and exposed his teeth. He patted the top of her hand. Again. George flinched back. Again.

“Hmm, I’d love to spend all night talking cars with ya sugar.”

Elvis looked back at Billy, who immediately chuckled nervously.

“But,uh, well, we got an urgent situation. Now, be a good girl and go run an get the mechanic.”

Billy stepped closer to try whisper in Elvis’ ear, but he shushed him as George narrowed her eyes, straightening her body so she sat taller above the counter, almost even with Elvis’ gaze. This did not seem to deter Elvis’ from leaning closer into her personal space, his face now just inches above hers.

Lips quirking into a tight, polite exaggerated smile, George shook her head as she reclaimed her hand. Again. How did he do it? She hadn’t even noticed it was on her.

“I’m sorry boys.” She put on an exaggerated pout. “The boss decided not take anymore jobs today. We close in five minutes anyway —”

“Now, now, now, wait just a goddamn minute. What do you expect us to do?”

Elvis’s nostrils flared out, and he clenched his fists, his voice rising into a growl. All that charm was now replaced by disbelief as he stepped back and crossed his arms.

“Nah, uh uh, we ain’t leavin’ til you take your sweet little behind and go find who ever, ever, who ever runs this place.” He slammed his fist on the counter to show that he meant business.

For the twentieth time today, Billy looked down into the ground and wished he was in Memphis.

Nonplussed, George pulled her mouth into an even wider smile.

“Listen, Barstow’s an hour away, by car. Not sure how long it would take you to walk.”

She strolled around toward the swinging door that led to the garage.

“We open at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”

She turned to go back to the workshop, pausing at the whine in Elvis’ voice.

“Now, now, uh uh. We ain’t leavin’ til we talk to your boss.”

Georgie raised her eyebrow and tilted her head.

“Suit yourself.”

She went into the shop and began pulling down the service bay doors that opened up to parking lot.

After the door swung shut, Billy pulled on Elvis’ shirt.

“Did you get a load of that chick, huh, Bill? Who pissed in her coffee this morinin’, that’s what I wanna know. Was it me, now, or did she go from gobsmacked fan to cool bitch in under two minutes. Weren’t asking for any special treatment. You heard me, I asked to be treated like, like, like any regular, normal customer. Right?”

Elvis threw his yachting cap on the counter in a huff, and stomped his foot. Billy watched as Elvis adjusted his little gold cravat and leaned back on the raised heel of his Italian black leather boots. Yup, just a regular guy...

“She wouldn’t even go get her boss —”

Billy coughed. “Oh, I think she got the boss alright.”

Elvis raised his eyebrows, and Billy pointed to the photos on the wall of a female in dirty coveralls working on cars, in some she was standing next to an older women who was also in coveralls.

“Huh, well I’ll be. A lady grease monkey. So that’s why she’s got her panties in a twist.”

Billy grinned. “Well, I reckon if anyone can untwist a girl’s panties, it’s you.”

Elvis shoved his cousin’s shoulder and winked as he walked backwards through the swinging door into the auto shop. George turned from rolling down the last bay door and crossed her arms, glaring, as Elvis walked toward her. His hat was gone and his arms hung back under his chest, the sleeves of his blue, silk shirt were rolled up and his left hand was notched at his waist. The way his long fingers stretched out over his hip gave his stance an air of purpose. She met his blue eyes and they twinkled with amusement.

“Here now, I - I- I think we got off on the wrong foot out there, bossman.”

Georgie wiped her hands on her jeans, realizing just how much taller he was as he strode toward her. “Hmmm, there’s no need for that, George is fine.”

“George?”

“Georgina if you wanna be more formal, George, Georgie, G, I answer to ‘em all.”

“Alright Georgie George. Can we start again?”

Georgie crossed her arms and pursed her lips, but nodded, moving Elvis’ hand from her waist as she jutted her chin up to look at him. He instantly moved his left hand to her shoulder, once again his thumb was immediate and intimate as it rubbed her collar bone.

“Look, pretty girl like you? How were we sposed to know —”

George lifted his hand from her shoulder, smoothing out her blouse.

“You can lay off the charm. Trust me, you are not the first schmuck to walk in here thinking I’m the secretary.”

Elvis lifted his hands up in defeat.

“OK, ok, now, no charm, I got it. Just brass tacks, jack. George, I mean.”

He winked. Again. A stifled laugh rippled under his cheeks, and George found his smug manner both infuriating and magnetic. She also felt an inexplicable desire to slap his face.

“So, my car’s broke down back on the highway. How are we going to solve this problem, huh?”

George looked at the clock on the wall above her work bench. 6:15. Maude would just be finishing up supper over at the motel, and her stomach had started to growl in anticipation. She looked at Elvis then back at the floor.

“Technically, WE are done working for the day.”

She sighed, somehow his hand was back at her waist and George felt her resolve fading.

“BUT, I hate to think of what I’m guessing is a very fancy, expensive car out there on the highway over night.”

Elvis smirked and adjusted his silk ascot. “Now, wait a minute here, what makes you think I’d own a fancy car?”

“Oh, let’s just call it female intuition. Handier than you’d think in this line of work.”

George removed Elvis hand from her waist, and looked towards the corner of her shop, as she found it increasingly difficult to maintain her brusk, professional demeanor when staring directly into his face.

“Look, I am due for supper, but after, I can drive out with my tow truck and bring your vehicle back here to look over in the morning. How bout that?”

“Sss - sounds good, sounds real good. We can definitely go after we eat, cuz I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

************************************************************************

It was dark when they returned to the garage and George led the way around the back to her tow truck. Billy’s small, short body sat on the passenger side of the cab, and George’s small, short figure sat in the driver’s seat. In between them sat the large, wide, body of Elvis Presley, his arms extended over the back of the seat in both directions, mirrored by the wide berth of his spread legs as he made himself comfortable. He stroked his chin as he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, running his hand through his hair, then pulling out a comb to fix it. George rolled her eyes.

“Trust me, no one is gonna see you out here. In the desert. At 8 o’clock at night.” She motioned to the murky, black expanse of the highway ahead of them.

“Just feel more comfortable to have it all neat and tidy and in the right place. You know how it is, Georgie George, with ya do-hickey here holding this mess a curls back.”

Elvis tugged on George’s pony tail, and she swatted his hand away with an annoyed sigh, then decided to push her knee back against him and reclaim some of her leg room. George’s smile at her triumph was short lived, for, while Elvis held his knees closer together, now his hand slid down along her thigh to envelope her knee cap, squeezing absentmindedly while Billy talked at length about nothing at all. George pushed his hand off her knee, only to find it around her shoulders a moment later, and she gave up, actually pressing into him harder when she saw the white car and turned her steering wheel to parallel park the back of the tow truck at the trunk of the Buick.

Elvis started to reach up for the hook and George hit his hand away from her equipment.

“Stop. I need to line them up a little better. If you want to be helpful, stand there.” She pointed to the edge of the car’s trunk. “And guide me back so the tires are straight from each other, can you handle that?”

“Yes bossman, you just go right ahead, me an Billum are standing by for your orders.” He smirked as he gave George a salute. Billy smiled apologetically

George ignored them, jumping out again when she was content that the tires were lined up and quietly asked if someone would put the car in neutral. Elvis threw Billy the keys, and stood watching as George bent down with her flashlight and pushed herself over the dirt so she was under the back of the Buick. Elvis whistled.

“Hmm, really get down in there, don’t ya?”

“Hmmpf. I’m not afraid of dirt, Mr. Presley.”

George called up to him, as she pulled the lift bar out under the Buick, hitching it to the car, then pulling her up and grabbing a wrench to jack the back of the car until the two back tires were now held completely off the ground. Elvis’ bottom lip hung down as he watched George jump up on the back of the tow truck, and swing down with the hook hangingcoff the boom to secure it to the Buick. When she was satisfied it would hold, George called to Billy to turn the Buick’s lights on, and jumped on the ground, moving towards the driver’s seat as she wiped her hands.

“Hold on, now.”

Elvis whispered, holding George by her shoulders and licking his thumb.

“Not afraid of grease, neither, huh?”

He rolled his wet thumb slowly over the long black streak on her cheek, back and forth until it was gone. His eyes roamed over her face, taking in the way the bottom of her front teeth appeared just slightly under her top lip as she looked up at him and trembled ever so slightly from his touch. He chuckled when she grimaced and pushed his hand away, replacing it with a bandana that she furnished from her coveralls to wipe her face herself .

Elvis brushed dirt off her chest, and moved her around, ignoring the way her hands tried to push him off, as he wiped the dirt off her back and bottom.

“Hush now, I know ya ain’t scared of dirt, doesn’t mean ya wanna be covered in it.”

He brushed his hands off and held her at her waist.

“Moon’s out tonight. Kinda pretty out here in the quiet of the desert.”

Neither of them looked at the moon. Or the desert. They didn't move until the sound of Billy’s footsteps in the gravel broke the spell and they remembered where they were and what was happening. George jolted back, smoothing her hair, as she nodded and walked over to get in the car.

George was silent on the drive back, turning the radio up to let the voices of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons tell her, Billy and Elvis how to walk like a man. Billy droned on about how he never got used to looking out at the desert, and wondered what tumbleweeds really were and where they came from. She was glad for all the noise, it helped her focus her mind on the road ahead and the tasks she needed to do to when they got back, and led her attention away from the strong, warm thigh pressing against her own. George softened into making requests instead of barking commands back at the shop, though she avoided looking directly at Elvis as she said goodnight. Instead, she nodded into Billy’s eyes as she told them to come back in the morning.

************************************************************************

Morning was approximately 11:17 a.m. At least it was for the occupants of room 217. It was 11:45 when they rambled into the motel office and Elvis sweet talked George’s older sister, Maude, into making breakfast, showing her how to burn her bacon the way he liked it as she laughed and answered his random questions about their family and life on Route 66. It was well past noon when Elvis finished the last of his black coffee, and made Maude blush when he crept up behind her at the kitchen sink to kiss her cheek with a “Thanks for breakfast, honey.” Then he gave Billy very detailed instructions to keep calling the house back in LA, find out where the RV was, and get Joe up to speed on what had happened.

“He needs to get out here and bring money, cause I don’t know how long this whole thing is gonna take.”

Billy looked over at his cousin. “Gonna have him drive you back tonight?”

“Hell no, I ain’t leaving my car here. Where’d ya get that idea?”

“Joe ain’t gonna be happy with me, EP, tomorrow is Monday, aintcha ‘sposed to go in to record them songs for Kissin——”

“You can tell ol Diamond Joe, from me, that he’s just gonna have to put ‘em off. This car is a custom, one-of-a-kind Buick Skylark with leather seats, a gold plated dash board and a car phone. If he thinks I’m leaving without overseeing its repair, he’s off his goddamn rocker.”

Billy gulped with an uneasy smile. He loved his cousin, but couldn’t help wishing it was a year ago and they were setting off to Hawaii to do exterior shots for Girls, Girls, Girls, when the mood was lighter and Marty and Lamar were still around.

Ignoring Billy’s puppy dog eyes, Elvis set off across the highway to George’s garage. He smiled at the sight of her legs sticking out from under his car, and he stood for a while admiring them before he whistled flirtatiously and watched her grease streaked face emerge rolling out.

“Never thought I’d like the look of canvas coveralls so much.” Elvis’ cheeks hollowed out as he grinned in boyish glee at George’s disdainful look, then willfully ignored it, walking closer to her and leaning on his car. “What’s the word, bossman?”

“Hmmm. Well, all it needs is an oil change.”

“Oh? That all? ”

“Oh yeah, that’s all. Just make it a month ago. That pan is bone dry, and you’ve blown the head gasket, which explains the white smoke you described. And your engine is starting to warp.”

Elvis smiled as he watched her talk.

“Mr. Presley, I hardly think this is something to smile about, this car - well, normally I’d recommend—"

“Elvis.” He stepped closer.

George looked at him confused, realizing her head was at eye level with the front pocket of his dark blue polka dotted satin shirt.

“What?”

“Elvis, baby, how many times I gotta tell ya to call me Elvis?”

He rubbed her waist. And George lifted his hand off her body, ignoring the tingling feeling she felt as she patted his chest deliberately to push him back.

“Um, huh.”

She breathed.

“Right, ok, Mr. Presley. I mean Elvis. As I was saying, um, usually, in these circumstances I recommend getting a new car, because the cost of a new engine is about the same as a new Buick. But you have a lot of.”

She paused to lift his hand from her shoulder, unsure how it got there, but instinctively stepping back when she saw Elvis take a step closer to her, his hand rolling over the white metal of the Skylark’s rim.

“Um - uh. A lot of expensive-looking modifications that make this vehicle, erm, um, valuable.”

George tripped over her sliding roller and Elvis caught her in his arms, grinning as she looked up into his eyes.

“Hmmm, yeah, I know all ‘bout those modifications, Georgie Girl. Oversaw the custi-a-mi-zation of this baby myself, ev’ry inch.”

He smirked at way George trembled and then pushed him off, steadying herself as she stumbled back.

“Hmm, well, for someone so involved you seem to have little regard for your car’s well being.”

Elvis frowned, and shook his head.

“What now?”

“I said, for someone who throws so much money into cars, you don’t seem to care much or know much about them. That car needed an oil change weeks ago, and now I’ll be lucky if I can salvage it. It’s gonna take me days to undo the damage you’ve caused driving it across the country on sludge.”

Elvis rolled back onto the heels of his expensive, Italian boots. He suddenly wished he’d worn an ascot today, it would have been nice to have something there to pull on for comfort. Instead, he braced himself at his hips, his stomach jutting up as he looked at George and frowned. She was pretty, smart, and the her utter obliviousness to how good looking she was, along with the way she seemed to try very hard to resist his advances, aroused him even more. But now she was criticizing how he took care of his cars and seemed to be questioning his very understanding of how motor vehicles. Which, to be fair to George, was an entirely accurate estimation of Elvis. His main question getting into one of his cars was: “Where is the key?” Though, in his defense, this was the only question usually necessary, because Lamar had been taking care of everything, until the ungrateful bastard had run off to work in Nashville and left the car maintenance to the other guys. Who had promptly forgot about it.

“Now, wait just a goddamn minute, honey, I don’t much appreciate the way y-y- y.”

Elvis clenched his fist and breathed deeply.

“If you are insinuating I don’t know how to take care of my cars, well, you must be outta your goddamn mind. Do you know how many cars I own? What my work schedule is like? I’ll have you know that I have so many cars, I just go out and jump into one, and usually everything is fine, cuz my guys keep em all lubed up real good. It’s just that, well, my car guy just quit, and this one musta fallen by the wayside before he left.”

“Hmmm.” George crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine why someone would want to leave your employment.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

“It means that you are difficult and you are spoiled. And full of your self. Think you can go where ever you want, do whatever you please. Got my sister as your short order cook now too. You know, it is just the two of us running the motel and garage out here. She was supposed to be overseeing check out this morning, but no, she’s cooking for you, and so the maids were running to me for direction while she serves you breakfast.”

Elvis stepped forward, hovering over George’s face.

“Jealous, baby? Sounds a lot like you wished it were you a - puttin’ somethin’ in my mouth.”

George slapped him, her eyes on fire.

“Get out of my garage. You’re lucky I’m still willing to - to - work on your - your - stupid, absurdly customized, ridiculous car.”

Elvis rubbed his smarting cheek, with a smirk, then shook his head.

“Ok, ok. I’m leaving. I just came over to see what the diagnosis was, crazy woman.”

George turned around and went to grab a wrench.

“It’s going to be two more days, at the soonest. And I charge double for today, on account that it’s Sunday. Looking at that gold plated dashboard, I figure you can afford my hourly rate.”

“Mhmmm. Uh huh. Don’t you worry, honey, I’m used to paying women double for their hourly rate. Long as I get what I pay for.”

“Get. Out. Before I change my mind.”

George stared ahead at the tools hanging in front her, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to dissipate before she turned around and screamed into the counter below her. She hated Elvis Presley, she hated the ostentatious way he had poured money into superficial aspects of a car that do not make a difference to its performance, and she hated the way his smug face smirked down at her when he talked. But most of all, she hated, hated, hated the way he seemed to always be touching her, it wasn’t even necessarily sexual, just a reflex, like breathing.

“Like his stupid, heavy opened mouth breathing. Ugh. The sooner you get this car fixed, the sooner you an get him out of your hair and back on the road.”

George threw herself into fixing the Buick like a woman possessed.

************************************************************************

George did not join them for dinner, and Elvis politely asked Maude for a second helping of her chili con carne while Billy regaled her with tales from previous road trips. The sanitized versions, of course, with a promise that they would never pull any of the pranks he described at her motel.

“I reckon we ain’t never stayed here no how, cuz it’s so close to LA, usually try to get to Winslow the first night out to Memphis. Same on the way back, lessen we cut over to Sin City.”

He looked at Elvis, whose eyes were gazing at the lit window above the garage, his mind lost in thought remembering the fiery look in George’s hazel eyes, and the shapely contour of her bottom underneath his hands as he’d wiped the dirt off her the night before.

“Right, EP?” Billy repeated himself, and Elvis looked up in a daze, and stood.

“Hmmm, sorry y’all. This is very good chili, ma’am, very good. I like that you don’t put onions in yours, no, no, it’s just right. Just how I like it.”

He brought his bowl to the sink, and looked at Billy’s quizzical face, as he excused himself.

“I, uh, I. Well, I think I need to go apologize to your sister. I have a bad temper, I know it, boy do I know it. Mighty Mouth ova there knows it.”

Billy nodded, slowly, waiting to see where this was going.

”I ,uh, well, I reckon I need to go straighten things out with George, so she ain’t liable to pour sugar in my gas tank or nothin.”

George was on her third beer when she opened the door of her apartment to find Elvis’ dark front hair flop dangling down toward her. She sipped from the bottle as she started to ask him what he wanted, only to watch him push through her outstretched arm, the she was using to block his entry to her flat, and proceed to pace around the living room.

“Look, I came over because, uh, well.”

He ran his right hand through his hair, his left hand hitched at his belt. The sound of Patsy Cline singing wafted through the room as he turned.

“Well, I didn’t like how we left things earlier.”

“Mhmmm.”

George grunted, taking another swig of beer and holding the door open with the back of her bare foot. The strap of her her brown, A-line dress fell over her shoulder and she pulled it back up, fixing the loose bust that covered her small, modest bosom.

“Ok, apology accepted, you can go.”

Elvis raised his eyebrow and strode toward her.

“See, now that, that right there, is the problem. I come over to patch things up and you get all nasty. Like I was tha only one, uh, the only one spoutin’ vinegar earlier.”

His hands found their way to her hips, and rolled over them. George shivered at the warm murmur of his voice.

“Why is it so hard for you to just be nice to me? To just be a nice girl?”

George felt the cool of her beer bottle as it hung heavy in her right hand, her eyes flittered up to Elvis’ where he hovered over her, pushing her against the open, apartment door she had been so hasty to send him out of thirty seconds ago.

“But I’m not a nice girl, Mr. Presley.”

She lowered her yes, turning to the right.

“Why even pretend.” She whispered.

Elvis leaned forward.

“Hmmm."

His thumbs rolled up and down the sides of her belly like slow, small window wipers clearing away the doubt and hesitancy that tightened her stomach. His lips wavered over hers as he muttered into her cheek.

“How many times I gotta tell you to call me Elvis?”

He leaned in closer, lips just above her skin as she closed her eyes and a moan escaped her mouth. Elvis tightened his grip at her waist.

“Mr. Presley is my daddy.”

He laid his lips softly over her, as he smooshed into them awkwardly, tenderly, taking several clumsy tackles until they settled over hers and then gently crushed into her. All George could hear were the sloppy clicks of air echoing between their lips as she closed her eyes and felt his mouth press onto hers. His hands traced further down her sides and his tongue gently teased the entrance of her mouth.

George pulled back, panting, and pushed Elvis into the apartment, setting her beer on top of the bookcase by the door. He wiped his mouth, an apologetic expression forming as he started to talk.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, I , uh, I didn’—”

George put her finger to his mouth and pulled himto her. Elvis’ eyes lit up as he opened his lips over it and George pushed her finger inside his mouth, tingling with electricity as it grazed against Elvis’ teeth. She saddled closer, tilting her chest into his, lifting her self closer to his face. He inhaled with a shudder, hands stroking her waist, eyes closed, his lips more forceful now and she groaned as she met his tongue with hers. Elvis caught George as she tripped backwards and cupped her bottom cheeks, carrying her to the couch. Her arms wound around his neck and she peppered his face with sweet, light kisses.

He plopped down laughing as she straddled over his lap, exploring his neck with her mouth while her fingers grasped at the back of his head, hair, shoulders. Elvis hands roamed over the top of George’s brown cotton dress, slowly pulling it up as his thumbs trailed over the white panties he found there, roving over her thighs and around to caresses her buttucks. The way she looked down and blushed made Elvis’ cock twitch and she bit her lip when she felt it. Looking into his eye’s with devilish intent, George arched her eyebrow and slide down to the carpet to nestle herself between Elvis’ legs. His reached down to stop her eager hands, eyes narrowing as he shook his head.

“Uh uhhhhhh, you’re a nice girl, nice girls don, uh, well, nice girls don do that. Ain’t gonna let ya do something you gonna regret tomorrow morning.”

Elvis took her hand up, and kissed the bottom of her palm as George surged up taller on her haunches to kiss him back, her fingers caressed his neck as she moaned a whiny please into his mouth.

“Pleasseeee. This. This is my favorite thing.”

She kissed him, freeing her right hand from his grasp, and then dipping down to nuzzle against his hardened length.

“C’mon….uh…goddammit honey… fuck.”

He breathed in, opening his eyes to still her with a grip to her chin.

“You really wanna… wanna see ‘im, huh?”

George nodded, and bit her lip. A crooked grin spread over Elvis’ face as he shook his head again, and undid his belt, lifting up as he unzipped and pulled his pants down, his smile widening as George smiled coyly, waggling her eye brows and then leaning in to lightly kiss his foreskin. Elvis tilted his head back at the sensation, and thrust his hips closer to George’s face as she pressed her lips over the head, slowly gliding down as Elvis’ tip emerged from his foreskin.

He groaned out, and she giggled into the pink head of his penis. He opened his eyes and looked down, hand moving down to run his fingers through the side of her hair.

“What’s so funny, huh, lil girl?”

George savored the way his quizzical expression changed from amused to almost terrified pleasure as her lips popped off.

“You. The noises you make. I find them—” she dove back down, plunging farther as she finished her sentence with a mouth full of Elvis. “He-war-ee-ousss.”

Her response didn’t really register with him, as he sunk back into the couch cushions at the charged, blissful surge of George’s mouth up his cock, his fingers threading through the left side of her hair. Elvis bucked into her mouth as her lips met his base, and he hit the back of her throat. She smiled inward because she could tell he was trying to hold his hips still so as not to press to far in and gag her. His fingers were soft, and his mouth ushered forth a mantra of sweet “oh gawds,” as George sucked back and forth, her tongue darting to swirl around the edge, then she pulled off to catch her breath, looking up into Elvis’ sweet, grateful dopey smile. George beamed back, maintaining eye contact as she plunged down again with a fervent thirst, her cheeks hollowing with determination as she flattened her tongue beneath his cock, swallowing it in long, slow strokes, sinking down over him and relishing the needy, almost shocked look in his eyes as she throbbed up and down, his hand lightly following in her hair. His moans became louder, and George quickened her pace, thrusting her chest forward to delve further, harder, softer with each successive delicious movement downward. Elvis gripped her hair, looking down.

“Hey baby, heyyy, Immaa - Immma ‘bout to explode, hmmmm? ahhhhh”

George nodded, and groaned as her mouth worked its way down faster, sucking in with heightened, electric anticipation until she heard him cry out and felt the spasm of Elvis’ pulsating into her mouth. She swallowing, sloppily, as she rotated up and down, holding him at his waist for balance until he stilled, his hand caressing her cheek up and down. She settled back and leaned into his thigh, looking up at a goofy, crooked smile under eyes half lidded in contentment.

************************************************************************

It was 11 a.m. when Elvis awoke to Billy’s hand on his shoulder, bewildered and uncertain where he was. He made eye contact with his cousin, taking in how the furnishings of George’s bedroom looked in the morning (technically it was still morning).

Elvis blinked, unlike Billy, he didn't know what time it was, or why his cousin was there, or where the occupant of the apartment was.

“Heh, uh, hey there, Bill, what’s - uh - what’s the idea?”

Billy gulped, this was not the most embarrassing situation he had ever been in. Not by far. So he smiled, and looked around, beginning to gather up Elvis pants, socks and shoes, which were carefully folded and stacked on the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

“Uh, hey, man, uh Joe’s here. Sonny and Alan too. We’re, uh, all paid up, ready to head out? I brought ya some coffee.”

Elvis sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Uh, wait, what, uh, what about the car?”

Billy looked back out to the living room as Elvis stood and put his pants on.

“Um, its ready, actually.”

Elvis looked up from where he was rolling his sock over his foot.

“What?”

“Uh, yeah, Maude, um, Miss Morgenstern, that is, well, um, she said her sister must have gotten up and been working on it from four or five this morning ‘fore she lit out for Carson City.”

Elvis started buttoning up his shirt.

“Carson City?”

Billy coughed and straightened his own shirt.

“Uh, yeah, Miss George, um. Well, guess she had to go pick up some auto supplies or sumpthin’ like that. Gosh, huh, girl mechanic, can’t believe it, right? Maybe those little hands give ‘em an advantage?”

He gulped again as he met Elvis’ disappointed stare.

“Yeah, erm, um. Anyhow, she’s not fixing to be back til late tonight.”

They were twenty minutes outside of Los Angeles when Joe and Sonny watched the white Buick Skylark pull over in front of them. Jumping out of the black, Lincoln Contintential they were driving behind Billy and Elvis, Sonny walked up the passenger side of the car and leaned over the rail.

“Sup boss?”

Elvis gripped the steering wheel, then lifted his right hand to fix his yachting hat.

“Goddamit, what do ya think Son, Billy left my goddamn toiletry bag back at that goddamn motel in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Gonna have to go back.”

Billy started to interject, saying, “I double, triple checked and we didn—” but was met with a swift elbow to the ribs.

Sonny clenched his fists as he walked back to Joe, asked for all the money in Joe’s wallet, and handed it over to Elvis, before watching the Skylark make a three point turn and head back along the road into the powder blue sky behind them.

************************************************************

Many thanks to my fellow players @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @whositmcwhatsit

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis smut #writing prompt game #thatbanditqueen #georgesgarage

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