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undercoverpena · 7 days

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11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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thelastofhyde · 5 months

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i. sea-day 1.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. as the ship sets sail, you search for help. at the bar, you encounter a familiar stranger. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much )<3 chapter warnings. alcohol, mentions of class/wealth themes, implications that the reader has underlining mental health issues, convenient plot-devices that would only ever happen in a rom-com bc this is fun silly fiction baby!, joel suffers from acute insuferable-bastarditis :( word count. 3.7k hyde’s input. let's all hold hands and agree to ignore the fact both parts so far have opened on the reader panicking in a bathroom, okay? maybe she's a stressed girlie with a flare of ibs, you don't know her life. feeling a little insecure abt this chapter and lowkey don't wanna post it, but i promise the actual fun begins in chapter two, where we finally get to see tourguide!joel in action. previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

“What time did you say you boarded?”

Your mother’s voice travels from where your phone lays, abandoned upon the bed, all the way into the decadent bathroom.

Eyes moving a mile-a-minute, as if you're rushing to take in every jaw-dropping detail.

There’s the sink area, a double-vanity that’s centred with an array of lotions and soaps, and overlooked by an overwhelmingly large mirror that makes up half the wall, lined with a golden hue of light. A shower, with glass curtains and enough room to fit your whole wardrobe in it. Then, there’s the bathtub you’re already envisioning yourself sinking into. Marble lines the floor, and the outer wall is made up of three window panes, gifting you a view of pure blue, the sea and the sky melting into one another across the horizon. It’s making you nauseous, this looming feeling of imposter syndrome the interior brings you.

You don’t belong in this, a fancy room designed for fancy people.

An iteration of your name, back on the bed, drags you away from your own troubled reflection.

“Seven,” you call out, inching your way back into the main area of the suite.

“In the morning?!” She’s just as shocked as the first time you answered her question, fifteen minutes ago, and the second time, seven minutes ago.

Humming in approval, you give a sweeping gaze over the plush carpeted floor, the wall-mounted television displaying the cruiseship’s logo, the king sized bed that’s calling out for you, seducing you with the promise of a mattress that won’t be stabbing at your back the whole night. As if on queue, there’s a sharp pain in your lower back, a lasting reminder of the hostel you’d found little rest in last night.

“Well, there goes my jealousy!” Lacklustre replies aside, your mother continues her ramblings, used to filling the void of conversation with the sound of her own voice. “Can you imagine? Me, awake at that time? You’ll be glad you’re travelling on your own, honey.” Usually, you admire the positive spin your mother tries to bring to life. Your being alone upon this trip, however, is not a topic you want her to address, much less find the good in. “I mean, I don’t think even your sister-”

“I think they’ve made a mistake,” you cut her off, eyes zeroing in on a pair of glass doors. Snatching the phone off the bed, you turn off the speaker and press it to your ear just in time to hear your mother’s confusion, questioning what you mean. Focus on those doors, you slowly make your way over to them. “The room,” you clarify, fingers curling around a handle to unlock it, prying the doors apart. A wave of salty fresh air, hits your face as you step out onto wooden decking. You find yourself upon a balcony, facing off into the deep blue distance. To your left, there’s two sun loungers and a glass coffee table, mounted by two champagne flutes and a simple welcome note sprawled out in black ink. “I think they’ve given me the wrong room.”

It’s the next best thing to a reasonable explanation you can find, no chance on earth you were ever listed to stay in such a suite. No, a room like this is meant for a wealthy businessman and his uptight wife to overindulge themselves on gold-trimmed furniture and a fur-lined bed for a week, in which they do everything but address the lipstick stains that keep lining his collars or the chauffeur who keeps himself parked between her legs.

You can already picture such a pair now, storming over to some poor, unsuspecting deckhand, red on both their faces as they begin to berate him over the fact they're in a cabin the size of a cupboard, with a communal restroom and a bunk barely fit for one person.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“No,” it’s an answer you reluctantly give, more than aware of how ridiculous it sounds. “It’s… nice. Perfect. Too perfect, like I should feel lucky to stand in it, nevermind live in it for the next few days.”

It’s with caution that you glance over each shoulder, taking note of the seemingly never ending row of balconies that line the ship, a sizable gap between each one. Guts twisting a little at the thought, you peer ever so slightly over the right edge and are greeted with views of more balconies. Beyond that, there’s only blue. Waves crash into the ship’s side and bounce off in white foam. You renew the distance between you and the ledge, unable to stop yourself from glancing both ways, confirming there’s no neighbouring balcony that finds itself occupied.

Then bend down, clasping a hold of one of the champagne flutes.

You take your first sip like it’s a crime, wearily, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to be caught in the act and dragged out of this room, down to whatever poverty loft you really belonged in.

Or, maybe they’d just toss you overboard, rid themselves of any possible hassle. People go missing all the time at sea, right? People go missing all the time on cruises. You’d just be another blip in the system, an error that can be overwritten with a simple-

“I can hear you thinking through the phone, sweetie.”

You take another sip, and let a weight fall off your chest, dragging in a breath large enough to make up for the moment or two you’d stopped breathing. “I’m just… tired. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. No big freak out on it’s way, again.”

“Honey, you know how me and your father feel about you calling it a freak-” she must be able to hear your eye roll through the phone, cutting herself off before she can keep going. “Just, try and enjoy this trip, okay? Maybe you’re in that room because where you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’ve been awarded some free upgrade, like that time your dad got bumped up to business class!”

Bless her for trying, though she may fail. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

You swallow back what remains of the bubbled liquid.

Through the phone, you hear a door burst open and the entrance of a loud, excited little voice. Something akin to granny rings down the line, and it’s enough to have you frozen where you stand, bones rigid and unable to move. Something seems to smack into the microphone, a rustling of fabric as you envision your mother making room for little limbs on her lap.

“Hey, my little munchkin! How was soccer?” You can’t make out what the voice tells your mother, heart too busy beating louder than any drum, inching its way further up your wind pipe and threatening to choke you on it. “Guess who I’ve got on the phone?” The tiny voice squeals out your name, bile joins your heart inside your throat. Maybe this is how you find out you get seasick. “Do you wanna say hi-”

“Mum, I, uh… I’ve gotta go,” you’re eyeing the remaining glass on the table, the rising bubbles enticing you to hurry up, drink it before it goes flat. “I should go find the help desk, get this room thing sorted out.”

“Just a second, let E-”

“I’ll call you later,” you hang up.

You’re left with just the raging waters below, a caw from seagulls up above. Eyes slipping shut, you pull in a deep breath and push out a silent plea for that sting in your eyes to be from the salt in the air, not a set of unfallen tears. A few more breaths and it feels safe enough to open your eyes again, glancing down as your phone vibrates in your hand.

Two texts, each from your mother.

09:38 - She says hi, and that you better bring her back a cool souvenir. 09:39 - Doctor Anderson says she’s showing improvement and they’re finally starting to get somewhere. Just thought you’d want to know x

Giving in to temptation, you snatch up the champagne glass, bring it up to your lips and- pause, interrupted as you make eye contact with a man one balcony over. He’s older, a well-rounded gut fit into a light blue shirt and tailored trousers. With a rolex on one wrist and set of bright white teeth smiling right at you, there’s no mistaking he belongs in one of these suites.

You wonder what he thinks of you and your frayed sweater, no jewellery on your wrists.

He nods, politely, and raises his own glass towards you. A silent cheer, a recognition that you’re both here, living life in luxury. You meet it, raise your own glass, and try to smile as brightly as him.

Then knock back your second drink and saunter back inside.

“Miss, there’s been no mistake.”

In spite of it being an excuse to hang up, you stay true to your word.

Come early noon, you’re standing within the help centre. Against all odds, accidental nap and wild goose chase upon the ship deck be damned, you’ve found what you were looking for.

Or, well, an older woman with sweet smile on her face and a squinted nametag pinned to her chest found it, pointed you in the direction of the ship’s atrium. What you’re looking for is the Purser’s Office, dear.

“See? The booking under your name lists you as part of our excelsior guests.” The desk clerk turns her screen towards you, acrylic nail pointing at your booking information. Sure enough, in bold letters, your full name accompanied by a golden badge at the end. Excelsior Status, checkmarked and approved by the cruise. “This grants you access to one of our excelsior suites and all private excelsior lounges.”

In all honesty, you’re tuning her out a little.

You don’t mean to, sincerely, but you’re just so caught up in reading both your name and excelsior suite, over and over and over again, that you forget to really listen, mind running just a few seconds behind the speed of her mouth.

When you finally process what she’s saying, all you can manage is dumbstruck look on your face and a muttered, “oh.”

Paper rustles as your hands wring, the pristine pamphlet you’d been flicking through to fill the time as she’d searched up your details now rumpled, thin white cracks of paper peaking out beneath printed ink.

“I also see that you’ve added the excelsior tour package onto your booking, though I’m willing to change that for you, if you’d prefer signing onto one of our team tours instead.” Confused by her offer, you glance down and read over the pamphlet’s title- All-Aboard Tour Trips, Fun for all the Family! “Would you like to hear what your current tour package grants you?”

“If,” as if you’ve not embarrassed yourself enough with your cluelessness towards your own booking, your voice cracks under the pressure of being used, more squeak than actual intelligible words. You swallow back the lump of shame in your throat and push through. “If you don’t mind, please. This, uh- The ticket, it was a gift, so I’m just a little out of the loop of what’s been booked for me.”

“Not at all! So, the excelsior tour package gives you access to your own private tour-guide, for all seven stops we’ll be making on this cruise!” Already, you feel a little queasy at the thought. A private tour, no one but you and some stranger. It’s not exactly your dream scenario. “Your guide’s purpose won’t just be to walk you through all the memorable sites, but to curate your visits to your liking, helping you explore foreign land with a familiar taste. Where the tours in team are restricted to allocated timeslots and a set route of sites to visit, having a private tour-guide grants you the privilege of exploring where you want, for however long you want. The private tour also provides more time for you at each stop, as your timeslot to board will be the latest available, making your whole trip less of rush and more of a thrill.”

The clerk, without a doubt in your mind, is quoting a script she’s already said hundreds of time- word for word, beat for beat. Yet her voice is animated, her smile is kind, and you admire her a little for getting through it without a single laugh at the corniness of it all.

You, however, fail the challenge, glancing off to your side and biting back a giggle that you hope she takes no note of. The last thing you want is for her to mistake the laughter as directed towards her.

Weighing your options, you nervously ask, “but, you could change me over to a team tour?”

She says of course, with a smile that doesn’t waver, and the tension in your shoulders lessens, the ice cold feeling of inconveniencing her melting away at her warmth.

Her nails clack as she types away on her keyboard. A double click and then, a hiss. She’s no longer smiling, a grimace taking it place. “I’m sorry, but all of our tours are fully booked.”

“Oh. That’s- It’s okay.”

“But, I could add you to the waiting list! If there’s any cancelations for any of the stops, you’ll be the first to know. This won’t affect your excelsior tour package, so either way you’ll have some kind of guide.”

With nothing to lose, you figure why not and let her throw your name in the metaphorical hat.

Mid-typing away, eyes glued to her screen, you watch as her brows shoot up. “Oh, while I’ve got you here, there’s one more thing. With our excelsior guides, it’s customary that they meet with you on the first night, to touch base on simple things, like your interests or any goals for this trip, and to plan out tomorrow’s official first stop, which is in Santorini. Your guide has left you this, detailing where you’ve to meet him.”

With renewed hesitation, you grab at the folded note she slips over the desk. It’s small, with half an inked fingerprint burnt into the top left corner.

As you thank her for her help and bid her goodbye, she interrupts you before you can turn to leave.

“I know private tours can seem daunting but, you’re in good hands. Joel will take care of you, he’s our top-rated guide.”

The note remains folded as long as you can control your curiosity, which appears to be only until you’re back on the deck, sun shinning directly in your eyes and forcing you to squint as you read over faded blank ink.

10 pm, the Tipsy Byson bar.

Below that, in a bolder blue ink, wear something green for me to find you, JM.

You’re awfully overdressed, and painfully aware of it.

The Tipsy Byson is nestled between the arcade and the casino, a balance of childlike shrieks harmonizing over outraged yelling of men cheated out of their hands. Brown wood lines just about every inch of the place, from the walls, to the tables, to the bar. There’s an outrageously large Stars and Stripes flag hanging on the wall, and memorabilia of all things Texas Roadhouse. The place is themed, down to the cowboy hat that sits atop the bartender’s head, and clearly everyone is aware of this, decked out in scruffed up boots and worn out denim vests.

Everyone but you, dark green silk clinging to you in the shape of a laced-back midi dress, dainty black heels tucked into the footrest of the barstool you occupy.

It’s the only green thing you brought and- wear something green for me to find you- you’d had no choice.

It was a quarter to ten when you got there, earlier than you were requested, but a gentle buzz of something shooting through your nervous system left you impatient, unable to wander the ship’s halls any longer.

It was fine, you figured, gave you a chance to get a drink, cool your nerves a little. Sticking with the theme of green, you’d yelled over the line music for a midori sour, please, and even cracked a little smile at the cute bartender.

By twenty past ten, you’re still alone, no tour-guide in sight, and your glass is empty, a sole ice-cube all that remains. You order another glass, given him another smile, and return your eyes to the entryway as you sip back the taste of the dewy melon goodness.

The doors opened, your hopes rise and- a couple walks through the door, adorably dressed in matching jackets.

Another sip.

The doors open again, this time you watch as a few women walk in, party hats and bachelorette signs dripping off them.

Half your drink, gone again.

Two, three, four more times the door opens and you watch as strangers filter in and out, pretending you don’t notice the way some of their eyes linger on you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It’s as you throw back the last sip of your cocktail, eyes catching the time- 22:36-, that you watch a grin overtake the bartender’s face.

The door shuts with a slam, buried beneath the layers of stomping feet across the dance floor and the twang of a country song, yet you hear it all the same, twisting in the stool.

A man stands by the entry, salt-and-peppered hair a little tousled and a scowl etched into his forehead. He moves like water, slipping through the cracks in the crowded bar with minimal effort. All the while, eyes seem to follow him, the occasional head turning in his direction. He spares no glances, to anyone.

Instead, he’s staring right at you.

And heading your way, frown and all.

There’s something in his face that feels familiar, and you swear that this is not the first time you’d stared into those eyes. Broad, scruffy facial hair, his irritation as some drunk girl slams into him so palpable, you almost taste it on your tongue.

You mumble something to the bartender, a request for another drink, a parched feeling stirring in your loins.

He’s inching closer, and closer, and closer- and, only as he’s a mere three bar stools away from you, do you realise who he is.

You’re in the way.

Signore Miller.

The rude man from the airport!

God, you can’t wait to see what this is about. He must recognise you, must feel the shame licking at his wounded ego, driving him to come over, apologise, beg for forgiveness to a stranger he unnecessarily berated.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” It’s not Signore Miller that speaks, nor is it you. It’s the bartender, arms crossing over his chest, smirk widening on his face. “Thought you said last season was your last!”

“You know me,” his eyes are still glued to you, an intense stare, even as he replies. There’s so little space between you now, you manage to notice the wrinkles in his flannel shirt. You choose to ignore the fact it’s green. “Ain’t no good at stayin’ away from the things I hate.”

“Wasn’t what you were saying at the staff party last year, Mr. Blubber-face. Took two whiskeys to get you crying ‘bout how you were gonna miss the cruising life.”

Another midori sour lands your way, yet you don’t even manage a single sip of it before he’s opening his mouth.

“Well look at you, all dressed up with nowhere to go,” his eyes still pierce into your own and, this time, it is you he’s talking to.

You’d have half the mind to throw your drink on him, if it weren’t for the fact you’re too busy taking a stabilizing gulp out of it, a sweetness to counter-attack his sour persona.

“Excuse me?!” You final sputter out, face burning too hot and pride too scorned to begin to feel even more out of place.

He seems unfazed by your outrage, turning away from you to acknowledge his friend behind the bar at last. “Do me a favour, Luke, don’t give her too much to drink.” Condescending tone perfectly intact, Signore Miller doubles down on your initial impression of him: an absolute asshole. “Last thing I need is to spend all day draggin’ around some prissy hungover diva.”

The man- Luke- scoffs back a laugh, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Quit teasin’ the poor girl, ‘fore she runs for the hills and ruins your five-star rating.”

An uncomfortable feeling creeps down your spine. It’s cold and alarming, and has your straightening your back, sitting a little tenser in your seat, realization rising in you like the dawn.

It can’t be.

He can’t be-

He’s stepping all in your space, face leaning down till his mouth is at the level of your ear. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even come close to it, yet there’s goosebumps littering your arms and hairs standing at the back of your neck.

Like touching a live wire, his proximity feels electric.

“Best be on that deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’ll be dockin’ without ya.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“Joel, tourguide. At your service.” He’s pulled back, just to thrust his hand in your face. By the time you reach to shake it, he’s retracting it, that grating quirk in his lips moving higher up his cheek. “Oh, and do yourself a favour. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. Santorini ain’t the place for dainty heels like those.”

You knock back the rest of your drink moments after he leaves, only to find Luke’s already placed a fourth glass at your side.

“Our little secret,” he faux-whispers, pressing a finger to his pursed lips. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”

Signore Miller.

Joel, tourguide.

Joel Miller.

He’s already making your trip unbearable, and it’s hardly begun.

+ extra hyde. sorry if that was a little boring it was a necessary part to get the ball moving, i promise chapter two gets right into it. again, updates to this fic happen every other friday! i'm bad at describing spaces, so if anyone is curious to know what reader's suite looks like, here are some reference pics:

taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

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milksnake-tea · 1 year

Text

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to.

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble.

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.”

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it.

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!”

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice.

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong?

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #x reader #y/n #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #rollo #roro flamme #twst rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #reader insert #oneshot #archives 🏵️

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

“Can you hold me for a while?”

You and Cal have been travelling together for a while, with something growing between you. During a cozy moment, some bottled up feelings start coming to the surface.

Fluff, basically cute fluff.

________

Nights used to be the worst. During the day, it was easy to busy yourself and keep out any unwanted thoughts, but once you retired, they would inevitably creep back up. The sounds of guns. The voices of people you trusted giving the order to shoot you on the spot. The last words your Master had ever spoken to you: “Run. You have to run. You have to live.”

Whenever these memories invaded your mind, you found yourself shivering, crying even and unable to rest at all. For the longest time, you thought it would never stop.

But it did.

When he showed up.

Crossing paths with Cal had been the most unexpected thing, but a most welcome one. You weren’t alone anymore! Together, you began fighting the Empire in your own ways, growing closer and closer over the months and years you passed together.

When had this camaraderie become romantic? It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment you had fallen for your fellow Jedi and survivor. But it hardly mattered when it started. The only thing you care about is that these newfound feelings give you a new sense of comfort and hope. And from the way he acts around you, you suspect that Cal might harbor similar feelings. Yet it hangs between you, unspoken and unseen, but clearly palpable. Like the Force itself.

Clearly, your thoughts are straying and you give up on the report you have been trying to write for the past hour to keep you from facing the night. There is no point in trying to force the summary of your last mission into words, so you turn off the communicator and begin heading toward your bedroom.

Suddenly you stop, eyes going toward the other door instead. Cal had retired only about half an hour ago… As quietly as possible, you slide open the door to his quarters.

“Cal? Are you asleep?”, you ask into the darkness of the room.

“Not anymore.”, comes the sleepy reply from the bed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You really hadn’t.

“It’s fine. What’s up?” He tries to sound more awake, but fails miserably.

“Can you hold me for a while?”, you ask, getting to the point directly. It isn’t the first time you come to him with such a request. The first few times, he had flustered and hesitated. Now, there is no pause before he says: “Of course. Come here.”

Taking off your boots and jacket, you climb into bed next to him, his strong arms surrounding your frame and pulling you to him. Instantly, the familiar feeling of peace and safety settles over you. The one thing that can keep away the nightmares and bad memories.

“Just for a few minutes.”, you mumble, trying to soak up as much of this moment as possible.

That’s how it always goes. A few minutes in his arms before you return to your room, falling asleep with more ease. But not tonight.

“How about forever?”, Cal asks, his voice steady and confident.

“What?”, your question is merely a whisper.

“Stay here. With me.” As if to underline his words, his grip around you tightens.

Is that your heartbeat or his that is pounding in your ears?

“Alright…”, you manage to say, cuddling into him, as you grip his shirt. You feel Cal relax, only just now realizing that he had tensed up in the first place, while waiting for your reply.

He says nothing more, but just closes his eyes. You follow his example and soon you are both asleep. The first of many nights, where you can finally dream about something happy.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Note

what do you think about reader being in a relationship with rhys and she’s a secret author and she is writing fanfics about rhysand and when nesta is reading her books she starts to recognize him and shows him the book, and rhys knows it’s reader, potential smut👀😋

Muse

Rhys x reader

A/n: his ego would get so big LMAO! Love this anon thank you for the request

Warnings: very suggestive at the end

Nesta enters the sitting room where Feyre, Elain, Emerie and Gwyn were sitting. All currently entertaining your and Rhys’ toddler, Seren. Nesta had a book in her hand, one of her smutty novels, and cleared her throat. The females turn their attention to her. Elain spoke up first covering Seren’s ears. “If that is one of your dirty books do not read it out loud Nesta.” She says sternly.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to read it. I’m reading a character description. I need to know if I’m going crazy or if you all agree with me.” Her eyes scan the page for the underlined words. “Listen, ‘his violet eyes sparkled looking down at me. I try to avoid his piercing gaze but all that’s in front of me was his broad, muscular chest. Good gods, it was unfair how beautiful he is. Like he’d been crafted by the Mother herself. And those warriors tattoos were divine. Proof that he was truly the strongest male among the others. The only one that could protect me.’

“Sound like anyone we know?” Nesta asks sarcastically. Everyone’s jaws were practically on the floor. “It sounds like Rhysand. Who’s the author?” Gwyn asked. She shut the book to scan the cover. “It’s by Turner Marwood.” Gwyn tilts her head curiously, lost in thought as she mouths the last name. “I think y/n’s mothers maiden name was Marwood but I’m not totally sure. I know the Marwood’s we’re a noble house a long time ago. Other than that I don’t know it.” The others shook their heads as well.

But Nesta’s brain was working a million miles a minute. Feyre broke her from her thoughts as the murmurs died down. “Yes but anyone could describe Rhys. His looks really stay with you, he’s beautiful.” The others hum in agreement but Nesta wasn’t listening.

“Yeah,” Nesta whispered, slowly turning to leave the room. She headed straight for Rhys’ office to see what he knew. Knocking on his door she entered without being told. Rhys looked up from his paper work raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hello?” Nesta gave him a mischievous smile. “Hello Rhys.” She says airily, closing the door and striding over to take a seat in front of the desk. She dramatically drops her book on his desk pushing it toward him. Rhys looks from the book back to Nesta. “Is this another smutty book?”

“Look at the name, sound familiar?” Rhys reads, nodding. “Marwood was y/n’s mothers maiden name. It could be a relative of hers.” Nesta lets out a hum as she opens a marked page. You and Nesta had spent some of your wine nights talking about your sex lives and other girl things. So she would know it if she read it. “Just thought you should read this. I don’t know, you might find it interesting.” Nesta goes to leave and Rhys picks up the book and begins reading.

———

Rocking and humming Seren you look down at her relaxed face and closed eyes. Laying her down in her crib you quietly shut her door and head to your and Rhys’ bedroom.

Your husband is sitting on his side of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles while reading a book. As you get closer you squint your eyes at the cover.

Oh shit.

Rhys looks up at you with a feline grin. “Hello, darling. See something familiar?” You try, and fail, at hiding your shock. Never in a million years did you think Rhys would pick up one of your books. It was your biggest secret, even from him!

You had started writing way before you met Rhys. It was something you started doing in your twenties, then for fun sent letters to publishers about a book you wrote, the next thing you knew you had a best selling series. You thought it would just be the one but they kept selling. You were up there with Sellyn Drake and you didn’t want to quit.

You couldn’t help but feel caught and now the truth had to come out. No avoiding it now that your husband was reading one of your books that was definitely about him. “Where did you…” “Nesta gave it to me.” You sucked in a harsh breath and looked down. Dam your wine nights.

“So…anything you want to tell me my dear wife?” He drawled. You plopped down on the end of the bed letting out a defeated sigh. “I started writing when I was younger. I never used my real name, always a fake one. I never imagined I’d get published and when I did it was the best feeling ever. My books were bestsellers, but I didn’t feel like I could share my writing with those closest to me. You remember how private I was when we met.

“So when we started getting serious you sort of became my muse for the romance genre. No one had ever treated me like you have Rhys. And you’re just the perfect male, how could I not write about you? So, yeah, now you know everything.”

Rhys crawled over to you, pulling you to sit between his legs, your back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder. This was a good sign that he wasn’t mad you were writing about your sex life for thousands of people to read.

“I’m really your muse?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. You roll your eyes, “Yes Rhys. As much as I hate boosting your ego.” Pivoting a little, Rhys takes his chin off you so your eyes locked. Your face is serious as you say, “You’re everything to me, Rhys.” He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. That look made you feel so special. So unconditionally loved.

“You’re everything to me too, y/n.” You lean into each other, nuzzling your noses. Rhys’ mischievous look returns. “What do you think,” he moves closer brushing his lips over yours, “about me giving you some new material to write?” He kisses you slowly. Your tongues exploring each others mouths.

Rhys climbs over you, gently pushing you down slotting his thigh between your legs to press against your sex. As the kiss got more and more heated you start to grind on him, desperate for friction. Your moans of want swallowed by him.

Rhys moves down your neck, pulling your shirt off you and continuing to trail down your stomach. He toys with the waistband of your pants. Looking up at you through his lashes he purrs, “Have enough yet?” “Not even close.” You breathe out.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #rhysand fluff #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you

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lonelydaydreamsalways · 1 year

Text

You, Me, and The Space In Between- Arkham! Verse Jason Todd x female reader?? Oc?? Self insert?? Idk

Authors note!! Thank you guys for all the support you’ve given me, I hope you guys like this ! let me know if I should make this into a series or not!! Also I’m writing the character as female bc I know how to write female characters more than males.

Let me know if you see any grammar or spelling errors!

As always, I don’t own any of the characters in dc!

Enjoy my loves!!

Warnings:

honestly almost cried writing this but it’s so cute!!

Tag list : @cherryinsalemverse @skypperlegacy @poisonblessedwithbeauty @thesandsofelsweyr

Let me know down below if I missed anyone or if you want to be tagged! ❤️

Jason stops, and drops to a crouch next to an all too familiar gargoyle. It’s cracked in places, old and new, and Jason sees how time has withered away at the statue.

Below him, the bustling city continues, blissfully unaware of the future in store. Above, GCPD blimps float out of reach.

It’s just like he remembers.

Goosebumps rise on his arm, feeling a familiar tickle appear. Jason hurries, flipping the armor plating backwards. To watch, as her elegant cursive manifests itself.

It’s a special feature to the Arkham Knight suit he added. An idea which became ingrained in his head so long ago.

Cold feather like strokes bring him back to reality.

Strawberries

Blackberries

Apples

Lemons

Words materialize across his skin. He makes out the first few words. Recognization flashes across his face.

She’s writing a grocery list.

A grin stretches across his face at the mundane task. Reading off the groceries, Jason unconsciously memorizes items which are heavily underlined.

A gloved thumb softly glides over her penmanship.

“Angel…” He whispers to himself, pursing his lips together,” Wait for me, just for a little bit longer.”

Numbers quickly appear soon after. Some are immediately crossed out, replaced by a bigger number. Eventually, when she’s done adding it all up, he leaves the panel as is.

He stares at his arm, incredulously.

For over a year, she wrote to him. Everyday, without fail. Of course, he couldn’t tell when she wrote him, whether it was morning, noon, or night. But, that didn’t matter to him. His days didn’t revolve around the sun or the sky anymore. His life began to revolve around her.

Or, what was left of it, anyway.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed, and lines appeared on his forehead.

I wonder what she wrote… What she managed to sprawl across her arms, day after day…Was it the same thing everyday? Or something new? How did she not give up on me?

Not once, did Jason Todd ever write back. And, still, she writes to him. Refusing to give up on him when everyone else has.

Jason scoffs, thinking back to his miniscule tenure as a Robin. When random writing and doodles ran wildly among his forearm for him to see.

He ignored them.

He refused to write back.

Jason would wring that fuckers neck If he could.

The adoption had just went through. Training hardly begun when the writing first appeared. Needless to say, Jason kept it to himself. Who knew if Bruce would keep him on this path, if he learned he had a soulmate out there, somewhere, waiting for him.

Jason wasn’t willing to risk that.

Sure, it was extremely comforting to know he wasn’t destined to be alone. But, that wasn’t the universes choice to make. It was his, and his alone.

The universe thought otherwise.

In the beginning, her writing vexed him. The day her writing first showed, Jason was sitting in the Wayne manor kitchen, mid bowl of cereal.

Dropping his spoon, Jason nearly choked. Jason clutched at his forearm, feeling the cool sensation of cursive letters materialize on his skin.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there

-William S.

Jason quit squirming. His heart began to pound, and he squinted his eyes.

No way…Jason thought to himself. Is this…what I think it is? A… A soulmate writing? What does that even mean? Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great l-

“Master Todd!”

“ Sorry!” Jason yelped, clutching his arm close,” I uh… I just missed my mouth, i uh… I’ll pick it up.”

Giving Jason a curious glance, Alfred sighed before going back to his newspaper.

“See to it that you do, Master Todd.”

That night, Jason searched the manors library to find the source of the quote. Coincidentally, it’s also where he found his passion for Shakespeare, Austen, and many other famous authors.

Days and nights passed before he got used to the little writings which would appear. Even longer, to ignore the urge to squirm around at the ticklish sensation. Constantly, Jason would fumble during training, drop a book he was reading, or clutch his arm and squirm like he was about to piss his pants.

Jason’s pretty sure Alfred had an idea as to what was going on. If he did, though, he didn’t say a word about it to him. Life continued as normal.

Until it didn’t anymore.

After that fateful night, which sealed his fate for over a year, Jason didn’t have the luxury to read what she wrote. Her writing stayed, safe, and painfully unread, under the weakened armor of his Robin uniform.

Honestly, the more he thinks about it, it’s a god damn miracle the psychopathic clown never found out. If he had…She would have been beyond fucked. There wouldn’t even have been a damn thing he could have done about it.

Joker wouldn’t have had just a Robin in his clutch, but a little birdie’s soulmate as well.

The clown would have had a fucking field day.

Clutching the skin of his left forearm, he raises both arms to his chest. He attempts to swallow spit. Borderline hyperventilating, he curls in on himself at the thoughts, feelings, and memories of it all.

He could only close his swollen eyes, to revel in the cold, almost ticklish feeling of her handwriting ghost across his skin. Inside, his heart warmed at her devotion.

The only times he would ever smile throughout his hell in Arkham.

A sigh of relief escapes his pale, chapped lips. In his his bloody, sleep deprived state, he could cry.

The only working bright fluorescent light in the room would cast an almost angelic glow around her. Light hovered atop her wavy brown hair, forming an almost halo.

He could never make out her face, always just a blur to him. That didn’t matter, though. Deep in his bones, Jason just knew it was her.

“You’re here…” Jason whispered, swallowing painfully.

“ I’m always with you, silly.”

The gentle teasing couldn’t help but escape her voice. Jason let out a faint smile at her words

“ I know, I know…” Jason agrees weakly.

“That looks like it hurts. It wasn’t there last time I was here…” She says to him.

His angel reaches her hand to his cheek, and Jason accepts, collapsing in her hand. His cheek, covered in blood, and an all too recent brand mark. The smell of burnt skin clouds the room, and flies are buzzing all around him. The brand, already turned black, with bits of damaged nerves dangling from his cheek. Yellow pus slowly oozes it’s way out.

Jason surrenders himself to her.

“Why don’t you ever write me?” She questions him softly, as butterfly kisses continue down his forearm.

He feels the familiar tingle, resisting the urge to twitch. Faintly, he smiles at her.

“You know I would if I could, Angel.” He barely says to her at last.

“ I don’t,” she starts, a teasing tone taking over her voice,” You never wrote me before…” She trails off, pouting.

“ I know, Angel,” He shudders out, writhing around pathetically in his wheelchair,” Why don’t you tell me what you’re writing?” He begs her.

She giggles at him, kneeling before him. Her wavy hair spills across his thighs and trail down the sides of his wheelchair. Gentle fingers trail up his thigh closest to her, carefully avoiding any bloody barbed wire.

“Now why would I do that?” She answers coyly.

“Because,” Jason starts, sucking in a breath,” Because I should have wrote to you before. And now…Now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

“I wonder,” She starts, tilting her head to the side,” If one soul mate dies, and the other remains, will writing still show on the dead soul mate?”

Jason doesn’t respond, retreating to the murky depths of his mind.

His Angel lets out a small sigh.

“I’m sorry, that was really depressing to think about.”

The fluttering on his forearm stops, then starts again on his other one.

“ What do you want me to write?” She finally questions him, leaning her cheek against his thighs.

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Anything,” He whines to her, closing his eyes,“Everything.”

Jason keeps his eyes shut, waiting for a response.

“Angel?” He pleads desperately.

Only when the warm, fluttering sensation leaves his forearm do they fly open. He looks to his arm, begging for the ghostly touch of her.

“Angel?” Jason questions, jerking his head in all directions he can,” Where’d you go?”

Silence is his only response.

“Don’t do this to me, too!”He bites his lip, resisting the urge to cry.

“Angel? Please! Please don’t leave me in here alone!”Jason weakly cries out, attempting to raise his hoarse voice.

“Angel?” He quietly begs.

The fluorescent light above him flickers, and cockroaches scatter across the floor beneath him as his only response.

Authors note!

The quote used in the fic was by William Shakespeare, but I don’t remember which work of his.

It turned out shorter than I wanted but oh well. I really liked the idea of him hallucinating about her

Thanks for reading!❤️❤️

#jason peter todd #arkham knight jason todd #red hood #dark fanfiction #fanfic #red hood x oc #red hood x reader #jason todd x oc #Jason Todd x reader #Arkham Knight x reader #i tried #writing fanfic is hard #jason todd fanfiction

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

Note

can we get some more ellie x red content? maybe a hc on special domestic things red has dones for ellie and vice versa?

Of course!

She doesn't push Ellie to talk in those direct few weeks after the hospital. While Red loves and appreciates Joel's attempts to get her out of her shell, she understands just needing to sit with your feelings and grief. But she always makes sure that Ellie knows she's there when she does want to talk

They tear down all the things in the dead girl's room. The posters and pictures and pink frilly things that are from a girl who is gone. They don't throw them away, but bury them in the backyard almost like a memorial.

Like Joel is quick to give her whatever she asks for, whether out of guilt or an eagerness to see Ellie perk back up, she gives her what she thinks she needs. Time, space, a blank journal to write in, an old sketchbook and pencils. New tapes for her Walkman. Anything to get the feelings out of her.

She knows what it's like to keep it inside and let it fester. Ellie is already too much like her already

The protectiveness goes both ways. When Red has to leave the house, Ellie is at her side like a small bodyguard, glaring back at anyone who wants to give them weird looks. She finds routes back to the house where there are less people, tries to find things to show Red that sell the idea of Jackson to her. The animals, the target range, the wildflower field.

Ellie wants her desperately to get use to the idea because she doesn't know what she'll do if Red doesn't want to stay.

The teenager does begin to finally come back to a semblance of herself after filling up the first journal. Red gets her more, finds her books on space and sci-fi and comics anytime she is out beyond the gates or if she spots something in the libraries.

She knows Red and Joel are together-together even if it's ambiguous to them. They aren't as secretive with their touches anymore, their looks, and they sleep in the same room. It's how Ellie has heard parents are. It just makes sense.

Sometimes the feeling of sleeping apart gets to them though. Months on the road sleeping less than a foot away from each other makes the absence feel strange. She feels awkward knocking on their door and comes up with a variety of excuses. Her room is cold, the window is broken, her bed is tilted unevenly. Joel never mocks her and Red always silently pulls her close, the three of them shifting onto the bed. She falls asleep to whispers of "Goodnight, Ellie-bean."

The first movie night Red goes to, Ellie holds her hand. She can feel her shake and doesn't let go the entire time.

Ellie's pun book goes missing after bombarding them with it constantly when they say no to her dog request. She finds it on top of the fridge a couple weeks later.

When they're getting groceries for the house, Red doesn't comment on the way Ellie blushes and stutters around the teenage girl helping them bag their supplies. She just pats her on the back reassuringly.

Ellie tells her about Riley. All of it. And afterwards, Red holds her close and let's her breakdown and finally mourn her. She tells her that first loves hurt, no matter how they end, and the young girl feels relief in the underlining acceptance.

Ellie only hears her talk about her younger sister, Annie, a handful of times. The first when Red accidentally calls her by the name after pestering her to bring the kennel puppies to the house. Her face drops, paleing, and she doesn't see her for the rest of the day. She brings home Brownie the puppy the next day for a while and Ellie doesn't mention the slip-up.

The second time is when Red tells her she had a younger sister late at night while waiting for Joel to get back from a night patrol. She'd been a little bit older than Ellie when she died. She doesn't know how it happened, but sometimes she hears her screams at night. She's not sure she wants to know.

She hears the girls voice on the cassette tape Red carries around when she finally lets her and Joel listen to it. The girl sounds like the type that would have inhabited Ellie's room before it was gutted, but she can hear the slight sarcasm and sass in the few sentences before Red sings.

When she catches Red up late at night, Ellie doesn't hesitate to sit close and lean into her. Sometimes they just need the contact. With Joel it took time to be able to just rest against him or hug him with his walls so high, but Red has always been welcoming, to her at least. So often when she just needs affection, she'll find and hug her, often falling asleep on the couch together.

She starts to draw her and Joel and the dogs and horses and everything and anything. Red is always quick to find her new art supplies to try, just happy to keep her happy.

Ellie starts to debate figuring out how to cook if only because both her parental figures are atrocious at it. Joel admits Sarah or Tommy cooked more often than he did. Red shrugs as if that's her only answer.

Red keeps her supplied with a variety of long sleeved undershirts to help cover up the bite mark. It's a nuisance but Ellie know it's more out of concern of how others may react to her.

She let's Ellie tag along with them a few times when they do group patrols. Red beats the shit out of one of the other guys when he says something Ellie doesn't hear but is directed about her. She just knows words are leaving the man's mouth and then Red is on him, fists flying hard and fast before he can react and Joel is pulling her off of him as she snarls.

Joel threatens him. The story is he slipped and fell down a ridge. Ellie doesn't think she should feel happy at the attack, but it makes her feel warm to know that they've got her.

In turn, she quick to yell and defend her, doesn't let anyone say anything bad about the wild woman who takes care of them both. Like mother, like daughter.

#anon asks #asks #series: feral #joel miller x feral reader #ellie williams fanfic #tlou #the last of us #tlou ellie #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #ellie williams #joel miller #raicodoll writes

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madeintheniamh · 1 year

Text

i want to write you a song

stmf one shot #6.

a/n: posting this very special one today because today is my 19th birthday! hope you all love it. i did cry writing it but it was well worth it.

content warnings: fluff, dadrry

song: matilda - harry styles

“Come on lovey, please go to sleep,” Harry sighed, rocking his 11-month-old daughter in his arms, his green eyes now underlined with black bags. “Daddy’s getting so tired, he needs his sleep too,”

He glanced over at the owl shaped clock on her bedside table- it was now three o’clock in the morning. He had tried and tested everything he had remembered you telling him before you left for the night to go out with Anne and Gemma for one of the first times since you had had Tilly- feeding her, sitting with her in the rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom, changing her into a different set of clothes, giving her a bath- and nothing had worked. Out of desperation, he reached into the drawer of dummies that you were hopelessly trying to wean her off of despite her teething and grabbed one. Her red rimmed emerald eyes lit up as she saw it in his hand, tiny fingers reaching out to grab it from him.

“Don’t tell mummy,” He whispered, smiling. “Because she says you shouldn’t have it, because you’re nearly one. When did you get so big, eh?”

Her dainty little eyelashes were glistening with tears, her eyes still glossy as she stared up at him, now sucking on the pink pacifier between her lips. She cooed softly as she stared at him.

“That’s better baby, isn’t it,” He smiled. “Daddy loves you so, so much. He wishes you could stay this little forever,”

She gripped onto the grey material of his t-shirt with her fists, still staring aimlessly at him, eyes wide, listening carefully. She suddenly spat the dummy out and began to wail again.

“Oh no, no, no, no, baby,” He moaned softly. “Please,”

He was out of ideas. There was only one option left, and he felt his stomach beginning to warm slightly at the idea of it. As he began to sing, he felt her tiny frame relax into his chest.

“You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know,” He crooned slowly, watching her eyes begin to close. “You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days,”

It had come so naturally to him, that he hadn’t even really thought about the words coming out of his mouth until she had finally fallen asleep. As he placed her softly back down into her cot, the realisation hit him. He quickly dashed downstairs to pour himself a glass of water, frantically rushing through the kitchen drawers to find a pen and paper.

As soon as the ink hit the page, the words just wouldn’t stop coming. Harry had never thought he was good at English at school- he had always struggled come up with his own poems when he had been put on the spot. Over the years, he had realised that he had always written the best songs out of the most unexpected situations. He looked back down, his messy handwriting littering the page, and smiled to himself. This was the one, and pencilled in his diary for the next day just so happened to be a meeting with Jeff. He traipsed back upstairs, peeping in at the crack in Tilly’s bedroom door to make sure she was still asleep.

“Goodnight, Tilly Gem,” he smiled down at her. “I know you’re little now, and you won’t know what it means, but I think Daddy might have just found the best first birthday present for you,”

---

Two years later- Wembley Stadium, June 2022

As he opened his mouth to announce the next song, he felt that same warmth at the bottom of his tummy that he had felt when he had sung it for the first time to Tilly two years ago on that warm, May night.

“This next song is very special to me, because it’s a song I wrote for my little girl, and tomorrow is her third birthday,” he smiled. “So happy birthday, to my little Matilda. You make me a better person every-day,”

He met her gaze, as Anne held her up in the executive box. She was still tiny enough, that he could barely make her out, but he could recognise those curly brunette locks from any distance. He waved up at her, hoping she could see him too.

He had to hold himself together as he felt his voice beginning to crack. “I’m so proud of you, and I’m the luckiest man in the world that I get to watch you grow up,”

When he began to sing Matilda that night, he let the tears flow freely, with no shame whatsoever. There were more songs he had written for her, and he was now a dad of two girls, but that had always been their song, and it always would be, for the rest of time.

“You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up,"

---------

awww! i love the concept of harry writing songs for his girls. maybe he'll write more songs in the future...

my requests are always open!

#harry styles #dadrry #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot

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werewolfnightwalker · 4 months

Text

Author!Dabi; Part Two

Part One here!

Dabi pretended to forget about the book after a while. Hawks never really brought it up again, though Dabi caught him reading it every now and then.

Sometimes he called Dabi "Raven," to which Dabi replied, "Songbird," but that was it. He never confirmed or denied that it was his book, that he wrote, that contained dozens of poems that were dedicated to his hero. He didn't want to, nor did he need to, so he didn't say anything when he spotted even more books by T. T. Arrow show up on Hawks' bookshelf.

He did watch, though. Watched as the first book- Starless Night and Other Poems- was read again, and again, and again. Dabi watched the spine crack, the page corners get dog-eared, the dustcover begin to tear at the edges.

All from repeated rereads.

"Read any good books lately?" He asked Hawks casually as he saw the hero glancing at the worn tome again.

Hawks hummed, smiling to himself. "Yeah, been thinking about rereading my favorite, though."

His favorite. Not even the five stars and essay-length, raving reviews from critics gave Dabi the same warm, fluttery feeling as that simple statement.

Finally, on a rainy afternoon that had him cooped up in Hawks' apartment while the hero was napping, Dabi got up and approached the bookshelf. He tipped the book towards himself with a finger and pulled it out of its place, carrying it with both hands back to the couch.

He retook his seat and flipped it open, searching the front page for… something. A sign, maybe. A reason, an explanation as to why it was Hawks' favorite.

The pages whispered against each other as he turned to the first poem; Mountainside of Embers was the title. His eyes completely passed over the printed words, so nearly packed into their stanzas, as they zeroed in on the messy scrawls along the sides.

"I'm so sorry." It was written in Hawks' slanted, curly handwriting, next to the paragraph lamenting how hard it was to breathe with lungs full of ash.

"I would have dug you out of the ashes and carried you home." Was scribbled at the end, that compared the mountainside to a graveyard for a single child.

Dabi flipped to another poem quickly; Sleepyhead.

"I wouldn't have left your side." Hawks' pen strokes promised next to the story of a sleeping, yet lonely boy.

"And he woke alone, so alone. Second, he thought of hunger, but firstly thought of home."

The whole line was highlighted, underlined, with a scrawled note beside it: "Come home with me!"

That fluttering back in his stomach, Dabi turned the pages with trembling fingers. Poem after poem was highlighted, underlined, scribbled, and doodled by. Notes and comments filled the margins, filled Dabi's vision and chest.

He turned to the first poem he'd written for Hawks, Origami Butterflies, and quickly scanned to one of the middle stanzas:

"Take my sharp edges and fold me together. Make me something beautiful, something that lasts forever. Tuck me safe into your pocket, Into your heart, into your bag, or your locket. Cradle me in work-worn hands, Promise never to let go again."

Next to it, in red ink and in all capital letters, Hawks wrote, "I PROMISE!"

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat now, Dabi looked through a few more before he finally dared himself to look at their poem, Cage of Bone.

The first page was blank.

As was the second.

The third page, where the story of the raven and the songbird ended, only had a single note by the final stanza:

"Begging forgiveness, as towards dawn they flew, The raven sobbed, "I love you, I love you, I love you.""

The poem ended there, in black, printed ink. But the note, written in blue, added on:

"The song bird settled into raven's chest, into his cage, into his nest, And began to sing into the sunrise, "It's alright, raven, dry your eyes. I am swift, and I am strong, And it was always you who heard my song. My wings do ache, my back is sore, So I will rest with you a little more.

Don't weep, dear raven, for you see, When I'm in here, I am free. I will stay in this cage of bone, So you and I are not alone.

Be my wings, and I'll be your heart, Because from you, dear raven, I wish never to part. So you start the song, and I take my cue, To sing on for forever, "I love you, I love you, I love you, too.""

Dabi closed the book like it would fall apart in his hands, carrying back to the shelf and slotting it into its place with the reverence due a holy scripture.

Wiping the blood from his cheeks, he headed for the bedroom, to do just as his songbird, his heart, had said.

He never fully figured out why it was Hawks' favorite book. But when he looked down at his hero, asleep, his head on Dabi's chest, he realized he didn't need to.

Not when the sound of their heartbeats, the sound of their breathing, the sound of Hawks' wings fluttering and the sheets shuffling and bloody tears pattering off Dabi's chin-

Not when they made a symphony, a song, all their own, that sang more than a raven and songbird ever could.

End.

#conans writing #dabihawks #dabi #hawks #keigo takami #touya todoroki #mha dabi #toukei #mha hawks #bnha hawks #bnha dabi #long post #poetry

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classickook · 2 years

Text

star-crossed | eddie munson

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: while studying for an upcoming test, your boyfriend pays you a late-night visit by climbing up your window and reciting shakespeare. who would’ve thought eddie “the freak” munson was a romantic? (inspired by this post by @writing-fanics.)

warnings: just kissing and fluff :)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i came across this super cute idea and wanted to give it a try! hope you like it <3

you‘re lying on your bed, dogeared books and colorfully-highlighted notes scattered around you as you study for an upcoming english test, soft music drifting throughout your bedroom from the small radio on your desk that helps to battle the deafening silence that would just distract you otherwise. the current topic of the class, and what you would soon be tested on, was shakespeare’s plays, your favorite of which being romeo and juliet.

markings littered every page of your copy; color-coded highlighting for each character, circles for recurring themes here and there, and underlined phrases that stood out to you. as you begin to re-read the scene in which the two star-crossed lovers meet for the first time, you hear a soft clinking noise against your window.

clink. clink. clink.

smiling to yourself, you mark your page before stepping down from your bed and walking toward the window. pushing aside the curtains, you peer outside and see none other than your boyfriend, eddie, standing down below in your backyard.

“to what do i owe this pleasure, my dear romeo?” you call softly, hoping your voice doesn’t carry too far to where your parents might hear.

the curly-haired boy, decked out in his famous hellfire club t-shirt, offers a sweet smile that is just barely visible from the warm glow of your bedroom light. “oh juliet, juliet, let down your hair.”

you cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. “that’s rapunzel, dweeb,” you correct him.

he pauses. “i knew that.”

leaning on the window frame, you recite the correct line to him, “it’s ‘oh romeo, romeo, wherefore art thou, romeo?’”

“he’s right here, sweetheart,” he responds with a wink.

you roll your eyes playfully.

“english class was never my strong suit,” he states, voice soft and shy, his bangs curling across his forehead and hiding his wide brown eyes from view.

“all the more reason for you to come up here and study with me then, huh?”

eddie casually leans against the side of your house, hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped black jeans, the movement causing the linked chain to rustle softly from its position on his beltloop. “hmm… i don’t know if i’m in the mood for studying,” he says slyly.

“just get up here already, would you?”

“yes ma’am,” he says with a salute before climbing up the lattice beneath your window like he’s done numerous times before when he comes to visit you late at night. honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t been caught yet. your parents wouldn’t approve of you dating the tattooed metalhead who plays d&d in his spare time, so you’ve been keeping these nightly meetings with eddie a secret. so far, you’ve been successful, and with graduation right around the corner, you didn’t want to ruin your streak now.

you return to your position on the bed as he crawls through the window and quietly slides it closed behind him. patting the empty space next to you on the bed, you beckon him over. “come on, then. these notes aren’t going to study themselves.”

he pushes aside your books and highlighted notes as he moves to sit down, tipping up your chin with his ring-clad index finger. “why would i want to study when i could kiss my pretty girlfriend instead?” he whispers against your lips.

you smile as you barely brush your lips against his, the lightest touch, just enough to tease, before you pull back to look at his soft brown eyes that you love so much. “hmm…” you say, pretending to consider the choices. “gee, i don’t know… maybe so you can pass this class and we can graduate together? ’86, baby, remember?” you quote him.

he pouts at you.

“i can help you with this, eddie. how about we study for a bit and then we’ll do whatever you want afterwards, okay? i’ll quiz you and for each question you get correct, i’ll give you a kiss,” you say, leaning forward to press your lips along the underside of his jaw. “how does that sound?” you whisper against his skin.

a wicked grin pulls at his lips. “sounds like a deal, sweetheart.”

the two of you peruse your copy of romeo and juliet, with you quietly reading aloud to him as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his fingers trace patterns on your forearm, the cold metal of his rings a sharp contrast against his warm skin.

“okay,” you announce after you finish a particular scene. “tell me one of the lines from romeo’s speech in act two, scene two.”

eddie hums, the vibration in his chest rumbling against your side from where he’s pressed into you. “but soft! what light through yonder window breaks wind?” he says and you can hear the humor in his tone, so proud of himself for the joke.

“very funny,” you muse, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. “try again and maybe you’ll get a reward.”

he sighs. “fine… ‘but soft! what light through yonder window breaks? it is the east, and y/n is the sun. arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she.’” the replacement of your name with juliet’s doesn’t escape your notice and you feel your face heat. turning your head to look back at him, you ask, shocked at his perfect recitation, “you were actually paying attention?”

he scoffs. “of course i was.” his fingers brush your hair across your shoulder so he can press a kiss to the exposed skin along the side of your neck. “i always pay attention when it’s you.”

“well, aren’t you a charmer,” you say, slightly breathless.

“that’s me, sweetheart,” he says, flashing you a charming grin. “so, how about my reward?”

you roll your eyes but you’re smiling nonetheless. “well, i guess a promise is a promise,” you whisper as you meet him halfway and press your lips against his, and he slips his tongue in your mouth. you could kiss this boy for hours and never grow tired of it. his hands slide down to your waist and slip beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin of your sides that cause goosebumps to erupt in their wake. his lips are soft and warm on yours, and utterly perfect.

it takes everything in you to pull away from him, but you know your time has come to an end. his lips linger on yours, however, following you as you lean back. “okay, that’s enough for now,” you giggle as you place your palms on his chest. your eyes land on the alarm clock resting on your nightstand, the time reading 12:30am. “it’s late, eddie. you should probably head home now,” you announce sadly, wishing he didn’t have to leave, always dreading this moment where you have to part ways.

“i could always stay…” he offers.

“and risk my parents catching you in my bed? i don’t think that would go over very well,” you tease. “but once we graduate, which you will graduate,” you say pointedly, “we’ll get an apartment together, just you and me, and we can fall asleep together every night and wake up together every morning.” you smile at the thought of your future together.

he smiles sweetly, his cheeks pulling up and creasing just beneath his eyes. “that sounds nice.”

you lead him back to the window and watch as he throws one leg over the ledge before pausing in his descent as he turns to look at you. your eyebrows furrow when he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“‘good night, good night,’ he says softly, brown eyes twinkling in the moonlight peeking in through the open window. ‘parting is such sweet sorrow, that i shall say good night till it be morrow.’”

your heart swells at his perfect delivery of the line, once again. breaching the gap between the two of you, you give him one last parting kiss. “good night, my romeo.”

he offers you a wink and then disappears into the night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger thjngs fanfic #stranger thjngs fanfiction

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berry-messy-scribbles · 1 year

Text

Lend me a helping hand

Pairing: Jesse Pinkman x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Jesse Pinkman attend the same class back in high school days. One day both of you become study buddies after Walt decides to pair you up to help him with chemistry. Little does he know that you two won’t pay much attention to textbooks, as a mutual crush begins to unfold.

Words: 3,131

Tags: SFW; gender-neutral reader; general fluff that turns a little angsty in the process but don’t worry it ends on a light note; reader and Jesse are younger due to this being set in his high school times.

Warnings/triggers: curse words; mentions of smoking cigarettes and drug use.

A/N: Reader’s implied favourite subject is chemistry so the plot can include Jesse’s trouble with White’s class and having him assign you as Jesse’s tutor.

“ This is my first piece ever writing Jesse so I apologise in advance if it seems out of character but we can all agree that our boy deserves more loving.” - Mod Berry

Ever since childhood, your eyes were set on an academic pursuit and it certainly didn’t change in your high school years. But the effort wasn’t just for any other subject than your beloved chemistry, which took up so much of your free time. Staying up all night to pass Mr White’s exams with flying colours wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. All those sticky notes and underlines made with fancy markers in vivid colours present in your textbook were a plain sign, that you struck to be one of the smartest if not the smartest in class. One of your classmates specifically caught your eye – no other than the troublemaker by the name of Jesse Pinkman.

After all, you've been taking the same class for over a year now so you observed all sorts of shenanigans unravel. He’s mostly known as that one kid that always has some snarky comments ready and is an absolute menace to the teacher. At first, it would be making paper planes to throw at Mr White. Gradually it evolved to him drawing caricatures of the old bald man on the whiteboard with captions such as “Sit on an Erlenmeyer flask dick”. The doodle obviously showed in detail a figure of him sitting on the described object. It led to many visits to the principal’s office. Even after all this time you barely have spoken to each other, maybe besides the occasional “Can I borrow a pen” moments.

It seems as no surprise that when this certain student known for not caring about anything really, had you assigned as his study buddy. That is why one day after class Mr White decided to pair you up as study partners.

“Y/N you surely know of Pinkman. The one that barely makes any effort? I told myself if I can’t get through to him with my lectures that maybe someone his age would. I am sure that he could use a positive influence like you.”

He then murmurs to himself while looking outside the classroom “Maybe then he’ll make something out of himself.”

You never understood why he was so hard on Jesse, sure he wasn’t an easy student but immediately shutting him down as a hopeless case seemed too harsh for you. Either way, you decided to help him.

“Don’t worry sir. I am sure Jesse and I will get along just fine.”

But fine was the last word you would use to describe this situation, in fact, it was one of those times when you weren’t sure how to react. On one hand, you two barely spoken to each other. On the other hand, you were eager to chat about your favourite subject. But what other thing were you supposed to talk about really? Your only similarities ended in attending the same class and that fact certainly didn’t make it any easier. However the next day you gathered as much confidence as you could when you approached him after class.

‘‘Hi, Jesse. I don’t mean to bother you but -”

You are then interrupted midsentence by Jesse.

“Uh Hi Y/N right? Look I know what this buzzkill Mr White told you but you don’t need to do all that teaching me crap. ”

“Okay wait wait, don’t be silly now. It’s not a problem for me at all. In fact, I’m glad I can finally ramble to somebody about chemistry, haha and maybe just maybe I’ll be able to change your mind about it” you respond with a smile.

That smile certainly caught Jesse off guard by how pretty it looked on your face. He felt strange? Were you doing this out of pity for him or were you seriously this kind? He wasn’t sure but decided to continue the conversation playfully.

“Pff I’d like to see you try. Anyways Mx teacher when and where are we going to have our first study session?”

“Already with formal titles, I see. Hmm since it’s a nice day outside so would you like to have our first study session in the library? I promise I won’t make it as boring as it sounds.”

“Geez, I don’t know. Do you seriously see me as the kind of guy who regularly goes to libraries? You flatter me Y/N but I hate to break it to you the librarian is probably going to have a heart attack when she sees me.”

“Come on now I don’t think there is a “kind of person” - it is for everyone. Whether you want to admit it or not the library lady will see you just as another plain guy. Or are you scared of being called a nerd huh? you teased him.

“Whatever. So are we going or what?”

That’s how your weekly chemistry study sessions started out. In the beginning, it would be at Albuquerque’s public library, where you two spent time together. It is worth mentioning that the first time you were there the old librarian lady Judith made an embarrassing remark at the time:

“Y/N dearie it is so nice to see you again but who could that young man be? Oh are you two perhaps...”

“Study buddies. We’re study buddies! Yup, nothing more than that haha.” you quickly responded as you didn’t want to make Jesse feel uncomfortable. Hoping that he didn’t catch your face flush bright red for a moment there, you headed to the quiet area with a spare desk and quickly took out your books.

Those study sessions over time evolved into more casual hangouts such as going to a park, café and so on. Sometimes they would also include obligatory smoke breaks or buying sweet treats for later. There was this one time when you both went out to grab some doughnuts beforehand and Jesse had to get himself the popular pink glazed doughnuts, which resulted in one of your puns:

“Ah, so your last name obliges you to buy them? Huh, Pinkman? Get it?”

“All that time spent buried in the books and it is the only pun you could come up with? Shame on you Y/N shame. To think an egghead like you would get more creative.”

“Oh shut up we’ll see how creative you’re gonna be when we will be solving tasks from the textbooks and workbooks I have.”

Something you began to look forward to during your week was seeing Jesse. He seemed as if he could listen to you for hours and hours. That is why you began to feel comfortable around him - like you could finally be yourself around somebody else. It can be said that he was your best hypeman by saying things such as “Yeah Science bitch!” or “Right on!” even when you explained the most mundane of things. There was this one time when you let yourself go and started ranting about your hobbies such as writing and reading books ( or whatever you like to do in your free time, he’ll be so supportive anyways ) so when you finally realised you were getting distracted you quickly added the following:

“Oh sorry I’m just used to people not caring about my special interests or straight up finding it annoying.”

“Are you kidding? Fuck them. I’d like to get to know you more, other than the fact that you are a huge nerd. Also, I think you’d make a great teacher or something because hey you’ve managed to make me pay attention."

That response definitely warmed up your heart.

On the surface, both of you seemed like total solar opposites but maybe that’s why you two connected so well. As you often put it in your mind “positively charged objects attract negatively charged objects”. Jesse would probably groan at the thought that you had to compare your friendship to some nerdy topic. During that time, you noticed that there was so much more to Jesse than people thought. For instance, his notebook had pages that were entirely covered in drawings of figures done in a comic book art style, some of which were superheroes while the others were villains. Initially, Jesse was nervous that you found them but then all that doubt disappeared when he was smothered in positive feedback from you. You eagerly asked about their names, superpowers and origin stories and then proceeded to listen to his explanations with joy in your eyes. That alone made Jesse feel so weak around you - you were actually interested in spending time with him and in what he wanted to say ( and by god we all know how much he needs that in his life ).

Up to this point, you didn’t realise that you started to develop feelings towards Jesse, but when he didn’t show up at your usual meeting spot you immediately started to worry. It’s not as if Jesse wouldn’t let you know if something bad happened, because he had felt sick before. The significant difference is that he always called or texted when he couldn’t make it. This time however it was total silence. At first, you tried calling him, then you moved on to texting multiple messages saying “Are you alright? Did something happen?” followed by “I hope everything is okay Jesse text me whenever you can”. You weren’t sure if you were overreacting a bit, but you didn’t care – the most important thing was his well-being. Time passed and it has been a week since your last message and there was no sign of him at school either. Now you were certain that something felt off… Maybe that’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands when you visited the Pinkmans’ residence. You were more than thankful, that you remembered where it was located since Jesse never really invited you over. The only time when you two were near his house he’d quickly brush it off as if he didn’t want to attract your attention to it. When you arrived and knocked on the door a short blonde woman opened. She was clearly confused by your presence.

“Can I help you with something? I don’t believe we have met before?”

"Oh hi, you must be Jesse’s mother. My name is Y/N nice to meet you, I am Jesse’s friend.”

It was strange to call him that since you weren’t sure if Jesse considered you his friend, but you certainly considered him to be yours. A small shocked expression appeared on her face, however before she could say anything you continued:

You didn’t quite understand her passive-aggressive response. At the same time, she was glad that you thought about her son but also said something about being an “unusual” friend of his. What did she mean by that? Was she trying to insult you or her own son? You thought that to yourself but decided to shrug it off as there were more important things right now.

“Listen Mrs Pinkman I am so sorry to bother you but Jesse hasn’t been responding to my messages for the past week and he also wasn’t at school so I wanted to make sure that he’s okay.”

“Hmm I have to say you don’t seem like Jesse’s usual kind of “friend”, but it’s nice that you worried about him. Pleasure to meet you too.”

“Listen Jesse has been lately um I am not sure how to put it...”

The older woman seemed at loss for words. To your surprise at that moment a taller older man came up behind Mrs Pinkman, which you suspected probably was Jesse’s father.

“Is there a problem here dear?” and then Mrs Pinkman had to assure him there was none but also had to explain why you were here in the first place.

“Oh, you are here for Jesse huh? Well then colour me surprised, to say the least. About our son - you’ll understand what my wife wanted to tell you in a moment. How about I show you his room, then you can go ask him yourself.”

The tension in that conversation caught you off-guard. For some reason, both of them seemed angry inside but they covered it in their nice suburban behaviour. Before you could even properly react to that exchange of words they both walked into their house, gesturing you to follow them.

They stopped at the door, which you could only assume belonged to Jesse’s room. His father then proceeded to knock on the door while saying “Jesse you have a visitor.” and then both left you alone in awkward silence while standing outside his room.

A couple of minutes passed and then you heard a loud thud and steps of someone approaching the door. Then the door swung right open followed by:

“Uh. I didn’t want you to see me like this Y/N.” Jesse sighed.

The room looked as if a tornado came through - all his belongings scattered on the bedroom floor. From his usual baggy clothes, beanies and a used bong to boxes of frozen pizza with few slices left untouched. The air in the room was heavy and the atmosphere was even heavier when you noticed Jesse nervously looking at you in the doorframe.

You have never seen Jesse in that state before. His usual entrancing blue eyes were all red. Not only that but it appeared that even weighty eyebags began to show on his face. Jesse anxiously held his arm around you. He was so afraid that sooner or later you would witness him like this. He expected the worst to come from your mouth and was preparing himself for the harsh reality of that situation to unfold, but then he heard a quiet sob coming from you.

“I was so worried that something bad happened to you. I am so glad that you are okay you asshole!” you immediately hugged Jesse.

“But um Jesse what happened? Is there something that worried you so much, which lead to this state?” you gestured at the room and him.

Jesse was knocked-out at that moment. Out of all the reactions he suspected he would get from you a warm embrace wasn’t on that list.

“Next time check your goddamn phone you hear me? A simple “I am alive” would be great you know?” you quickly added as you let go of that hug.

“I don’t want to come off as nosy or anything but just so you know you can always talk to me. I’ll make sure to be of help to you.” you added.

Jesse was absolutely stunned at that moment. Nobody ever cared about him that much and you didn’t even judge him? You didn’t think of him less after witnessing him at his worst? After all of that, you still wanted to know what was wrong? What exactly was happening? He finally responded:

“Heh I don’t know what to say Y/N. Look for the past few days I haven’t been feeling very well. You probably met my parents - we don’t exactly get along.” before he could finish that sentence he made sure to close the door so they wouldn’t hear what he says.

“So about a week ago they found my secret stash and went fucking crazy. It wasn’t only about that oh no no no. Mrs and Mr Perfect had to bring up my shitty grades and how I will never amount to anything. Parents of the year huh? After that, the only thing I knew would make me feel good is smoke some weed and spend time alone. My buddies suggested meeting up but I wasn't feeling like it. I just felt like a burden to everyone I have ever met."

"God and the fact that this dickhead White told my parents I was a lost cause was just a cherry on top of that shitshow." he added with frustration building inside him.

Seeing Jesse in that vulnerable position made you even more motivated to comfort him. You carefully started:

"First of all you are certainly not a burden, how could you even think that for a moment? Look even if your parents are acting like assholes towards you they don't define your worth. "

"I am so sorry that your parents and White told you those awful words but if you asked me I think you are pretty great. Sure you aren't the best at certain things but you are getting better each and every single day. If it makes any real difference to you I'm rooting for you, Jesse."

"And hey just a friendly suggestion when you do succeed you can rub it in their face you know? That certainly is something to look forward to right?"

That made Jesse chuckle a bit.

"Thanks, Y/N. I am very glad that you came here."

"No problem at all. Say do you need any help with cleaning your room? And before you say you don't want to make me do your chores I don't mind and also I insist."

Even if he said no you would help him so after that you and Jesse got up to start cleaning his room and of course had some more heart-to-heart conversations while doing so. It brought you two closer than ever and you both realized that your feelings were more than friendship.

Since that day some time passed and your first study sessions came faster than expected. Jesse was so happy that he could finally spend more time with you and so were you. You took your usual path to the library and sat in an empty desk. This time you decided to start with organic chemistry, in particular, a topic revolving around saccharides. Before you could explain anything Jesse asked you:

"So today we are doing what? Saccharides? What a mouthful. Why do eggheads always come up with the most idiotic names instead of calling it oh I don't know... something anyone can say outloud?"

"Pff you can always just call them sugars you know. It is still a correct nomenclature so feel free to use that one."

"Yeah but I would rather call you sugar." he responded without a second thought.

"Wait what did you say?" you felt blood rush to your face.

Silence fell between you two. Expression or sheer shock on both of your faces. Jesse couldn't believe he said that out loud. The silence was then broken by him coughing and finally adding:

"Y/N I didn't mean to make any of this awkward I just... I just think that you are sweet."

"Well if that makes any difference I think you are cute too Pinkman." you responded and softly placed a kiss on his lips.

Truth be told that day you didn't do any of the material you had planned in advance. The only chemistry that was on your mind was between you and Jesse.

#breaking bad x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman fanfic #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fanfic

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vintagepresley · 1 year

Text

68′ Comeback Special... Part 6. (After the special)

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Word Count: 10,172 words

Warning: 18+ SMUTSMUTSMUT. Fluff, angst, cursing, fighting, oral (f receiving), rough sex, getting caught in the act, squirting, choking, spanking, public sex, praise, a very dominate Elvis. typical Elvis stuff. TW: Sexual assault.

Author’s notes: SOOOO.... I was feeling super inspired with this story and I immediately began working on this chapter for you guys. Things are really heating up with these two!! Oh, knows what may happen next with them. Maybe a possible time jump in the next one?? Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Possibly spelling errors!

Part one! Part two! Part three! Part four! Part five!

I want you, I need you, I love you….

Hours had now gone by as you laid by Elvis’ side, still in his arms and you could hear his quiet snores against you, you drifted in and out of sleep in those hours, it was a bit hard for you sleep after the conversation you two had and the way he reacted. But you knew this was something the two of you had to talk about, because you had to be honest with him about why you weren’t ready for such a huge commitment like marriage for several reasons, but there was one big reason and you were afraid to say because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings and you were beginning to notice how sensitive he was even though he wouldn’t admit it. But if this relationship was going to work the two of you were going to have to communicate with one another in a better way. You laid there wide awake now doing your best to not wake him and you began to stare over at the dark curtains that constantly covered the windows, trying to figure out if it was almost morning because you’ve given up on trying to get anymore sleep. You slowly turned around in Elvis’ arms a small smile on your lips at the sight of him sleeping peacefully and you lifted your head up a bit to catch a glimpse of his alarm clock and seeing it was only 3:00AM.

You let out a soft sigh as you laid back down, resting your hand over Elvis’ arm that was wrapped around you and stared up at the ceiling, you felt him move a bit his head now resting against your shoulder as he continued to snore, you glanced down at him for a moment and just watched him sleep. This all still felt like a dream to you. You wish you could call your mother up right now, wanting to ask her advice about men and just all of this and just communicating your feelings without hurting someone. But you knew it was late over in California and she wouldn’t be awake. You glanced over at the bedside table next to you where Elvis had a bunch of his numerology books along with his bible and you carefully reached over to grab one of them, not really knowing a thing about numerology, but you need something to maybe help you fall asleep, so you began to read through some of it, noticing a lot of markings and the notes he made as well as sentences he had underlined. After a while you eventually nodded off to sleep the book laying open against your chest.

It was late into the morning now almost hitting noon by the time Elvis had finally woken up and you were still fast asleep, and he sat up looking over at you with one his books laying on top of you, he laughed softly a bit confused at what you were doing with it, but figured you must of woken up before him at some point, he was bit impressed that you had chosen to read one of those books. He reached over and grabbed it, sitting it on the bedside table next to him, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a smile. He knew you were a bit upset with him last night, but he was hoping that maybe you’d move on from it today. He wasn’t trying to upset you or ruin the mood. So, he just figured he wouldn’t even mention anything today even though he had said you’d talk about it the next day. He had a few things to take care of today and he was also going to be hearing about when the special was going to be airing, which he was hoping the two of you would watch together at some point.

He went and got himself showered and ready for the day and he had been making quite a bit of noise that ended up waking you up out of your sleep and you looked around the room confused and wondering what time it was, you rubbed your eyes a bit, seeing Elvis already dressed and walking around the room doing god knows what. “Elvis?” you say sleepily. He looks over at you with a smile. “Oh, baby, you’re awake... Sorry if I woke you.” He says. You shake your head a bit. “It’s okay, honey. Where are you going?” you asked curiously. “I’ve just got some business with the colonel. He’ll be here soon.” He says with a smile. “Oh okay. Can we talk about last night before you go?” you ask quietly. “Baby, we don’t need to talk about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.” He says. “No, Elvis... I think we need to talk about it. I would like to talk about it, please.” You say with a bit of sternness in your voice. “Now, honey, listen... I said we can talk about it later. It’s not a big deal.” He says casually trying to brush it off. You sighed softly, shaking your head. “Stop, please. I have something I need to say. So, we need to talk about it.” You say demandingly.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and he sighed softly. He was hoping that you two could just move on, but he could tell by the look on your face that it wasn’t going to happen. He walked over to the bed now, sitting down at the edge by your side. “What’s on your mind?” he asks. You weren’t sure how you were going to say this or how to even communicate it properly without him getting upset, you sat up now pulling the blankets up along with you to cover yourself up. “I just want you to know that I don’t have an issue considering marriage with you, I don’t. But there are other reasons why I am not completely ready to get into all that. One of them being that I feel it’s so soon to be talking about that stuff. I just want to enjoy what we have now.” You stared at him as you watched him listening to you intently. “Okay, I understand that. So, what’s the other reasons?” he asks curiously. You inhaled sharply, not knowing how to put this into words, you reached over to grab one of his hands, holding it gently. “I just have some concerns… You have women practically throwing themselves at you all the time and who’s to say if I married you that you wouldn’t eventually get bored? Then what? You find someone new? Or you go on tour and sleep around with other women? You can’t just get married because you may have these feelings for me now and you think I could be the one. What if that changes, once we make a big commitment like that? What if you realize you didn’t want to get married after all??” you softly feeling a huge weight off your shoulder after getting that off your chest.

Elvis was quiet now, real quiet and you could see the look on his face that he wasn’t happy at all with what you just said. You were staring at him waiting for him to say something, anything. He just nodded his head, and he got up from the bed now. “Elvis? Please say something.” you say hesitantly. “The hell you want me to say? You don’t fuckin’ trust me so that’s why you won’t consider marrying me?” he shouts. “N..No, that’s not what I meant.. Please.” You say trying to calm him down. “That’s what it sounds like, N/A. You don’t trust me. Maybe bringing you here was a mistake. Maybe I should send you back home to your parents.” He says angrily. “What?! No! Elvis, please… I don’t want to leave. I love you; I do trust you. I’m just afraid of you’ll get bored of being married.” you say softly as you felt your eyes welling up with tears now and you quickly get up from the bed, grabbing your robe off the floor and slipping it on, walking over to him and grabbing a hold of his hand. “Please don’t make me leave… I’m sorry.” You say in a shaky voice as you began to cry.

He pulls away from you in anger, shaking his head. “I poured my heart out about how I felt about you and this is the shit you say. I don’t give a damn about these other women. It’s you that I want. But maybe I should’ve left you back in California. You’re clearly a goddamn child who isn’t ready for a relationship.” He says upset now. Tears were running down your face and you sniffled softly trying to stop them. “But.. I.. I love you.. I want this relationship more than anything. I don’t want to go home.. I want to be here with you.” You pleaded as you tried grab a hold of his hand again, but he wasn’t having it. “I’ve got to meet with the colonel now.” He says coldly and he walked out the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The moment he walked out the room you just began to sob, you didn’t think he’d react that way. You felt so stupid for bringing it up now. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t trust him. You did. You knew he loved you and that he meant every word he said yesterday. But you were just insecure. Now you were afraid he was serious about sending you home. You couldn’t handle the thought of being away from him. You were hoping he would calm down and maybe come to his senses and change his mind. So, you decided you’d give him his space.

You tried your best to stop crying and now more than anything you wanted to talk to your mother, so you grabbed the phone and started dialing your parents phone number, sniffling softly as you held the phone up to your ear and heard the phone trilling on the other end and then you hear your mother’s voice. “Hello?” she says. “Mom? It’s me..” you say softly. “Oh, N/A, sweetie! How are you? How’s Memphis and Elvis?” she says excitedly. You try your best to make it sound like you haven’t been crying, but by the sound of your voice she could already tell something was wrong. “It’s okay...” you say quietly. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asks concerned and the moment she asked that you burst out into tears again. “Elvis is angry with me and now I don’t think he wants to be with me anymore. I don’t know what to do.” You say in a panic through your tears. “Okay, okay, calm down, honey. Did you have a fight?” she asks. “Y-Yes..” you say quietly. “Well, you just need to work it out with him. He seemed very taken with you and I don’t think he would just dump you over a fight. You just both need to talk it out.” She says. You let out a soft sigh at her words, not wanting to tell her too much. “I tried to talk to him. He just got angry.” You say. “He’ll come to his senses and the two of you will work things out.” She says. You decided to take her advice and to help you calm down she changes the subject and asks about Graceland. You decided to go along with it and began to describe the house to her.

Meanwhile downstairs Elvis was in his office speaking with the colonel about their next plans and a few talks about a possible tour and this new hotel opening in Las Vegas. He sat there doing his best to listen to what the Colonel was saying but he was too distracted by the fight the two of you just had and was hurt that you felt like you couldn’t trust him. He may have gone too far, and he started to feel bad about what he said and threatening to send you home. He knew he would have to apologize. But he was just so hurt that you felt he’d get bored and cheat on you. He knew he didn’t have the best track record with women, but you were different for him, and he would never hurt you. But he couldn’t help but just feel so angry that you assumed the worse of him. He couldn’t wait for the Colonel to leave he just wasn’t in the mood today. He lit up one of his cigars taking a big drag from it as his leg began to shake nervously, he was hoping he didn’t completely screw things up with you.

You eventually got off of the phone with your mom and even though you were going to take her advice you wanted to also give him his space, you went into the bathroom to wash your face and try to make it look like you haven’t been crying and you didn’t even both to get dressed you kept your robe on, tying it in the front. You didn’t want to be in his room just in case he came back up here once he was done with his business with the Colonel. But you were also afraid of running into him downstairs. You through your hair up into a messy bun and decided to just go downstairs to the kitchen for some coffee and to get some food in your system. You slowly walked out of the room, not seeing any sign of Elvis, but you could hear his voice and the Colonel’s coming from his office, you let out a sigh of relief as you slowly walked downstairs and made your way into the kitchen. You saw some of the guys outside and you could hear a few of them downstairs. You were happy to have the kitchen to yourself for moment as you try to gather yourself as you made a cup of coffee, you were trying so hard not to cry again. You felt like such a baby and Elvis calling you child made it even worse.

Once you finished your coffee you decided to check the fridge to see what there was to eat, but nothing really appealed to you, so you check the freezer and seeing a carton of ice cream and decided just to eat that. You were in a wallowing mood anyway, so ice cream just seemed fitting. You grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and decided just to eat it straight from the carton. You suddenly hear Elvis and the Colonel talking out in the hallway and you feel your heart drop to your stomach, the nerves building up in you. You wanted to hide or just runaway, but you were hoping maybe he’d go hangout with the guys. You hear him walk the Colonel out and shut the door and you tried to be as quiet as possible in the kitchen as you heard his footsteps suddenly stop and then you hear him walk upstairs but then come back down seconds later and before you could go even think about going to a different room, he was already walking into the kitchen. The silence was deafening between the two of you. You didn’t even want to look at him so you just kept your head down as you continued to eat your ice cream and you could feel him staring at you. You cleared your throat a bit. “I.. Um… I’ll get out of your way.” You say quietly as you began to walk out but before you could go any further, he grabbed you by the arm to stop you.

He was hurting you a bit and you tried to pull away, but he pushed you up against the counter and now he was moving toward you, placing his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you there with him, you stared up at him a bit confused, licking the ice cream off your spoon. “I changed my mind about sending you home. I’m sorry for getting upset with you. But what I won’t tolerate is you thinking that I’d really get bored of you and go out and cheat.” He says sternly. You nodded your head slowly at him before looking down. He reached his right hand up grab your face and forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when I’m speakin’ to you, little one. What do I need to prove for you to understand I just want you? Huh?” He says. You let out a soft noise by the way he grabbed your face and now you were staring at him with innocent eyes, and he was pressing himself up against you now, you shrugged at his words not knowing how to respond. “Maybe I need to fuck you until you get the point, hm?” he barked, squeezing your face a bit tighter in his hand. Your eyes widen at his words, you couldn’t believe you were getting turned on by this. You felt like you should have been upset with him with the way he spoke to you and made you cry, but you were feeling all sorts of other things now, slowly placed the carton of ice cream on the counter as you watched him. “Maybe….” You muttered.

He smirked at your words, and he let go of your face now and moved his hand down to your robe, untying it and forcing it open and exposing your naked body right there in the kitchen. You let out a small gasp, looking around and quickly closing your robe up. “Elvis! What are you doing?! All your guys are here. The staff. Someone could walk in.” you said frantically. He chuckled softly at your words with a sly grin on his face, not having a care in the world, he yanked open your robe again and pressing himself up against you firmly, your back completely pressed up against the counter and he grabbed your face again a bit harder this time, his face close to yours. “I don’t care… This is where I wanna to fuck you.” He whispered. “Now take your robe off.” He demanded. You hesitated at first, but you nodded at his words, slipping your robe off and letting it fall to the kitchen floor, you stood there completely exposed and so worried that someone was going to walk in at any moment. Elvis let go of your face and began to run his hands along the curves of your body, resting his hands on your hips as he pressed himself back up against you and pulling your waist forward, you could feel his growing bulge right up against you. You inhaled sharply as you licked your lips, staring up at him, waiting for what he was going to do next.

He gripped your waist in his hands before turning you around and pushing your face down against the cold countertop and you let out a soft squeal from his roughness, he was arching your back and raising your ass up toward him and with a smirk he began to spank your ass several times, you winced softly from the feeling and each slap became harder a soft whine escaping your lips and then he pressed his cock up against your ass, the fabric of his pants rubbing up against you roughly as he leaned down toward you, reaching his hand up to grasp your hair, yanking your head back slightly, you whimpered softly. “This is what happens when you misbehave…” he whispered into your ear and he let go of your hair, pushing your face back against the counter, you lifted your arms up to rest against the counter, grasping at it a bit with your hands as you anticipated his next move, he was bringing his hand back down to your ass and rubbing his hand gently over it before he began spank it once again and now he was hitting you even harder and you chewed on your bottom lip as whimpers grew louder with each slap, you knew your ass was going to be sore after this.

He suddenly stopped and you could hear him unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, he tugged them down just enough to pull his cock out which was fully hard now, he guided the tip between your ass cheeks, you let out a soft moan from the feeling of him. “Let’s see if I can fuck some sense into you..” he muttered softly. You felt his cock teasing your wet entrance and you brushed your ass up against his cock in desperation and it caused him to smirk. He reached down to get a nice grip on your hair which was now falling out of the bun you put it in and he tugged on your hair roughly as he slammed his cock into your pussy, you let out a loud moan the moment you felt him inside of you, trying your best to grip at the counter, he was usually so gentle but that was gone now. He placed his free hand on your waist to hold you still as he thrusted his hips into you at a fast and rough pace, you let out a whimpering cry and you were trying to do your best to be quiet because you were still afraid someone was going to walk in but there was nothing you’d be able to do about that, because Elvis had complete control.

With each movement that he had you could feel his cock moving deeper into your pussy, he was trying to keep his groans quiet but that was becoming impossible, he was pulling your hair to the point that he was lifting your head up off the counter and you cried out his name softly, “Elvis… F.. fuck…” you managed to get out. You could overhear the guys from the room just below you and you prayed that they didn’t come upstairs. Now both of his hands were holding onto your hips as he began to move you against him, his pace quickening and he tilted his head back slightly as he groaned softly, your legs were shaking because of the way he had you propped up against the counter and from how rough he was fucking you. You could feel his rings digging into your skin as he tightened his grip on your hips forcing you to take every single inch of him. You placed your hand over your mouth as you tried to muffle your moans as they escaped past your lips even louder. Suddenly Elvis was pulling out of you and grabbing you and dragging you over to the kitchen table, kicking one of the chairs away with his foot and he slams you down roughly onto the tabletop, you let out a soft groan from the feeling, your pussy was throbbing and aching for his cock to be back inside of you.

He didn’t waste a moment slamming his cock back into your dripping wet pussy, the familiar feeling causing your eyes to roll back in pleasure as your upper body laid flat on the table. You felt his left-hand slip between your legs now as his cock moved at a steady and fast pace inside of you, his groans soft and long. You felt two of his long fingers circle around your sensitive clit and in between your folds, your slick coating his fingertips and you felt him circling around your clit again, pressing his fingers firmly against it and now you were moaning out his name. “Mm.. Elvis.. E-Elvis…” the words slipping past your lips louder, he pulled his hand from between your legs and brought it up to your lips, forcing his fingers into your mouth. You sucked slowly on his fingers, tasting yourself on him. He leaned down against your back, kissing along your left shoulder blade. “Mm… I hope someone walks in and sees you takin’ this cock like a good little girl.” He uttered softly in your ear. Something about that sentence just turned you on so much and part of you didn’t want to be caught but then another part of you secretly did. What is happening to me?

Elvis shoved his fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to slightly gag around his fingers as you sucked on them even faster and now you felt his other hand wrapping around your throat, the coldness from his rings sending a shiver down your spine and they were piercing your skin a bit as he squeezed tightly as he fucked you into the table, the quicker he began to move it started to cause the table to make noise, the sound of your muffled moans, his groans filling the air simultaneously that the two of you didn’t even hear Sonny walking into the kitchen as he shouting out for Elvis. “Hey, EP.. We’re ready-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence when he saw the two of you and Elvis glanced up to see him standing there, he was still fucking you completely unbothered. “Uh, shit.. Sorry.. I.. Sorry..” he says, Sonny was at a loss for words as he quickly walked out. Elvis just smirked. “I’ll be done shortly, Sonny!” he shouted to him, laughing to himself. You were in shock and your face flustered at the fact that Sonny caught the two of you. You just knew he was going to tell the rest of the guys and you didn’t know how you were going to face them now.

But you had no time to even dwell on that because Elvis pulling out of you and flipping you around now and lifting your lower body onto the table now as he spread your legs apart and wrapped his hands around your thighs, tugging you forward toward him, he moved his right hand between your legs letting his fingertips run between your soaking wet folds, giving your pussy a slap and you let out a soft squeal, as you watched him closely, chewing on your bottom lip. It didn’t matter what happened between the two of you this man always found a way to make you forget that you were even having a fight. He just had that kind of control over you, any thoughts of him becoming bored with you or not wanting you faded. You interrupted from your thoughts as he slammed his cock back inside you, burying it deep into your pussy, grabbing a hold of your thighs. You tilted your head back against the table, arching your back and moaning out his name repeatedly as your hands gripped at the sides of the table as he fucked you so good almost making you forget that you were in the kitchen where everyone could hear you, but at this point you didn’t even care. You didn’t want him to stop fucking you, hitting all those spots that drove you wild, those spots that made you want squirt all over him.

His groans were growing almost as loud as your moans. “Oh.. fuck.. baby… You feel so fuckin’ good ‘round my cock...” he uttered breathlessly. You could feel your orgasm suddenly building within you and suddenly Elvis moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in sync with his movements, your mouth formed an O shape as you moaned but it came out airy and your toes began to curl and your body trembling from how overstimulating everything was and you knew what was going to happen if he kept this up. You couldn’t believe he was really going to make you squirt right here in the kitchen, his orgasm was almost building, and he was getting close, but he wanted to make you cum first. “Mm.. C’mon, baby. Give me what I want… I want you to make a mess for me…” he groaned out. His fingers moving quicker against your clit, pressing firmly against it and you could feel your legs wanting to close around him and you reached your hands up, cupping your breast and squeezing at them tight as you arched your back more, it was coming. Your orgasm was approaching quick, and you knew once it hit you couldn’t control what your body was going to do. You were breathing heavily, your eyes closed shut, your body tensing up. “I’m.. I’m gonna cum, baby… Fuck…” you cried out and then that’s when everything came crashing and you cried out his name loudly as your body gave way and you came and squirted all over his cock, making a mess on him and his clothes. “Goddamm, baby… Shit..” he muttered beneath his groans as his orgasm followed right behind yours and he pulled his cock out of your dripping pussy, stroking his messy cock with his hand as his warm cum rained down onto your stomach, some of it dripping down onto your pussy.

You felt completely drained as your body collapsed against the table, you laid there a mess and covered in his cum and he smirked at the sight of you as he pulled his pants back up and buttoning them up and fixing his belt, trying to clean himself up a bit. You watched him closely and he walked over to the side of the table, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. “Did you learn your lesson?” He mumbled softly against your lips. You nodded your head slowly at his words, staring up at him innocently. “Good… Now go clean yourself up, little one. Meet me back down here.” He mumbled softly, stealing another kiss from your lips. You nodded again. “Yes, daddy...” You whispered softly. He smirked as he walked out of the kitchen and to where the guys were, he didn’t even bother to change the clothes that you had made a mess on, he thought it was kind of hot being able to smell you on him. As soon as he left the room you managed to get yourself up, your legs almost giving out on you from how wobbly they felt and you quickly grabbed your robe off the floor and slipped it back on, quickly making your way upstairs to the bedroom.

Once you came into the bedroom you headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower, you felt like you were on cloud 9 after the way Elvis just fucked you and as you showered you couldn’t stop thinking about the roughness of it and that no matter what Elvis could have you anyway and anywhere, he pleased. You just weren’t expecting it to be right in the kitchen. You assumed that was your way of making up with one another. Once you finished showering you, you got out and wrapped a towel around your body and began to brush your teeth and as you stared in the mirror at yourself you noticed a few of the bruises that Elvis had left on you. Each time you fucked it seemed like there was a new one, you shook your head with a small smirk and once you finished brushing your teeth you began to do your hair and makeup, you weren’t sure what Elvis had planned for the two of you, but you wanted to look your best. You carefully covered some of the bruises with some cover up. Once your hair was styled the way you liked it, you walked back into the bedroom and toward the closet, the rest of your things had finally arrived at Graceland and Elvis had taken the time to make space for you in his closet, which you thought was very sweet of him. You picked out a black and white floral bell-sleeved mini dress, laying it out on the bed and you paired it with your favorite white ankle boots with a block heel. You then grabbed a white bra and pair white lace panties to match, smirking to yourself because you knew they were Elvis’ favorite, you removed your towel letting it fall to the floor as you proceeded to get dressed. Once you were done you went over to the mirror to check yourself out. You knew Elvis would love your dress and love what you were wearing underneath even more. You grabbed your purse and then headed downstairs.

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs you were looking around for Elvis, you could overhear him talking with the guys outside, so you made your way outside and you could see some of the guys’ kind of avoiding eye contact with you, especially Sonny and you rolled your eyes knowing he told them. You did your best to brush it off as you walked over to Elvis who was in the middle of telling them a story and you slip your arm around his and he glanced over at you with a smile, which completely made him lose his train of thought when he saw what you were wearing, and he leaned over to press a kiss to your lips. “Wow, You look gorgeous, baby.” He said with a chuckle. You smiled at him. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt” You said softly. He wrapped an around your waist, pulling you close to him, and he shook his head. “You’re not interrupting. I was waiting for you.” He said. “Oh? What are we going?” you asked curiously. “I want to take shopping and maybe show you around Memphis a bit. We were also planning on going to the amusement park tonight. We’ll have it all to ourselves.” He nodded with a smile. “Oh! That sounds like fun.” You exclaimed.

He smiled and pulled his arm away from your waist and grabbing a hold of your hand, leading you over to his car. You were surprised that he was going to be driving himself. But you knew the Memphis mafia wasn’t too far behind because they always went everywhere with him. He opened the car door for you, and you smiled at him as you got into the car and he closed the door behind you and then jogged over to the driver’s side of the car, getting in. It was a beautiful afternoon, so Elvis let the top down on the car. Meanwhile all the guys were getting into their own cars and Elvis led the way down the driveway of Graceland and through the gates where a crowd of fans stood, and Elvis waved and smiled at them at all as he drove by. You were surprised to see some of them even waving at you and you waved back with a smile. You were still getting use to all of this. So, you were always so amazed by how many people were always standing by the gates just waiting to catch a glimpse of Elvis or waiting for him to come down to sign autographs.

As Elvis drove into town and down to Beale St., you were taking in all the sites, it was different than California, but you loved it. Things were different the music, the style, the culture. Elvis smiled over at you as he caught a glimpse of you looking at everything. He reached over to grab a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it. You looked over at him with a smile. “We’re okay, right?” he asked. It took you moment to understand what he meant, then you realized, nodding your head at him. “We’re okay, baby.” You said with smile. He smiled giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he continued to hold it. Moments later you arrived at a small boutique. Elvis parked the car, and he got out, walking over to your side and opening the door for you, taking your hand into his as he helped you out of the car, shutting the door behind you. You saw the guys pulling up behind him and he signaled for them to wait in their cars as the two of you walked into the boutique. You looked around at all the cute clothes they had, and you smiled. The girl at the checkout counter immediately recognizing Elvis and he smiled at her politely and saying hello.

She got so nervous just from him speaking to her and you laughed a bit because you sometimes felt the same way. “D-Did you need any help with anything, Mr. Presley?” she asks kindly. He shook his head with a smile. “Call me Elvis and no I think we’re okay for now. Thank you, though.” He said and she nodded with a smile. He now was guiding you over to a few different racks of clothing and you watched as he sorted through them, picking out a few things for you. You raised an eyebrow at him, some things he was picking out were your style and some you could tell were for him and what he liked seeing you wear. As he was doing that a few pieces of jewelry caught your eye, so you wandered off to where they were. Once Elvis had quite a few outfits in his hand he walked over to the checkout girl and asked her if she would place the items, he picked out in the dressing room for him. Of course, she didn’t waste a moment saying yes and off she went with the collection of new clothing that was soon to be yours. As you were still looking at some of the jewelry, you felt Elvis’ arms wrap around you and hugging your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “See anything you like, little one?” he mumbled softly. “Maybeee...” You said in a sing song voice, smiling and placing your hands over his arms. “Mm, okay, we’ll come back over here then. I have a few things I want you to try on for me, baby.” He said with a grin.

“Oh? Just try them on? That’s all?” you teased with a grin. He chuckled softly. “Well… I can’t promise I won’t get a bit handsy with ya.” He smirked, pulling away and grabbing your hand. You rolled your eyes playfully at him as you followed him to the dressing room, and you glanced over to see the checkout girl not noticing the two of you going into the dressing room. He closed curtain behind you and then he took a seat on the small bench, and he pointed at some of the dresses that were hanging up. You sifted through some of the dresses, Elvis certainly had a unique taste in fashion, and you loved that about him. You set your purse next to him as you decided to go with the first dress which was a simple long-sleeved mini dress, emphasis on the mini. It was a black multi-colored dress. You slipped off your boots and then slowly slipped off your own dress, setting it beside Elvis as well. His eyes on you intensely especially once the undergarments you were wearing caught his eye and he smirked widely, licking his lips as his eyes looked you up and down. You couldn’t help but giggle from the look he was giving you. You slipped the dress off the hanger and slowly began to slip it on, soothing the dress out once it was on and you looked at yourself in the mirror seeing how the dress slightly hugged some of your curves and you smiled over at Elvis who was still staring at you.

You began to model the dress for him with a smirk and you lifted your foot up and placing it on his left thigh, the dress sliding up and revealing more of your thigh and your white panties. “Do you like it?” you say with a grin. He looked up at you and nodded his head slowly with a smirk, placing his hand on your foot and running it up your leg and then your thigh slowly. “I like it a lot..” he said softly. You could feel his hand inching up a bit further and you moved your leg away from him, shaking your head at him. “Don’t get too handsy, baby.” You said softly with a smile. Now you were taking that dress off and tossing it at him and taking the next outfit off the hanger and this time it was a plaid skirt which looked like the one you had which you knew Elvis loved from the night of the party in California. This one had more a schoolgirl vibe to it and you stepped into it, slipping it on and you went searching for the shirt to go with it and then you look at Elvis, your hands on your hips now. “Where’s the top?” you ask him. He chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders. “Didn’t think you needed one..” he said teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not happening in here, mister.” You said playfully.

“Oh? Is that so? We’ll see about that.” He said with a grin, reaching his hands out to you and he grabbed a hold of your waist, pulling you toward him and he looked up at you with a sly smirk. “You shouldn’t have worn those panties that I love…” he mumbled softly. You tried to squirm from his grip, biting down on your bottom lip and trying so hard not to completely fold just from his touch. He ran his hands down the fabric of the skirt and down your thighs and he sat back now, his hands resting on his thighs now. “Pull that skirt up and show me those panties again, baby.” He muttered softly. His very words were enough to make you fold and you could feel your pussy practically throbbing from how turned on you were becoming. You let out a small huff and decided to just play along with him because you knew it’d be hard to resist. You reached your hands down to the bottom of the skirt and slowly lifting it up revealing your thighs and then panties that were peeking through. “Higher…” he mumbled. You nodded and lifted the skirt slightly above your hips, your panties on full display for him. “Fuck..” he uttered quietly. You let the skirt go letting it fall back down. “That’s all you get, Elvis.” You giggled softly.

“C’mon, baby.. Just let me see ‘em one more time..” he begged. You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “Fine, one more time.” You said and you lifted your skirt up for him again and he smiled widely and now he was moving and you watched as he got down on his knees in front of you, grabbing a hold of your hips and pulling you closer to him, his lips pressing kisses against the fabric of your panties. You let out a soft noise, your hands holding onto his shoulders and then shaking your head once you came to your senses. “Elvis!” you whispered. He peeked his head out from underneath your skirt. “Hm??” he said innocently. “We can’t do this here. The girl out there may hear or other customers.” You said quietly. “Well, you’ll just have to be quiet then, little one.” He said with a smirk. You knew there was no fighting him on this. He always just had this power over you where you couldn’t say no. You finally admit defeat especially because you were so turned on at this point. “Okay, fine.” You muttered. He had that stupid grin on his face whenever he got what he wanted.

You watched as his head disappeared again underneath your skirt and he held onto your waist a bit tighter and continued to kiss along your panties, and he smirked to himself when he could feel that you had already gotten your panties a bit soaked. “For someone so against this.. You’re so wet already, darlin’.” You heard him say quietly as he laughed. You blushed a bit. You couldn’t help that your body just absolutely folded when he touches you. “Shut up.” You say playfully with a grin. He kissed every inch of your panties, you chewed on your bottom lip, holding onto his shoulder with one hand while the other tangled into his hair and then he reached his hands up to hook his fingers between the hem of your panties and slowly tugged them down your legs, you slowly stepped out of them and the minute you did he snatched them up and placed them into his back pocket. “Hey! I’m gonna need those back.” you whispered. He laughed softly, peeking his head out to look up at you. “They’re mine now. I like when you wear no panties, because I know I’ve got easy access to what’s mine.” He said with a smirk. His words just made you even more wet and you were just ready for him to devour you at this point.

You smirked to yourself and lifted your right leg up onto the bench behind him, so that your legs were spread open for him and you pulled onto his hair a bit, shoving his face in between your legs. “Better start eating what’s yours then, baby.” You muttered softly, throwing your head back a bit. He smirked at your words, his hands gripping onto your thighs as he buried his face into your pussy, dragging his tongue in between your wet folds and finding your clit, pressing his tongue firmly against it as he circled around it and flicked your clit back and forth between his tongue, you rolled your eyes back and let out a soft moan, you were still sensitive from earlier today, you pursed your lips together trying to keep your moans muffled as you gripped his hair tighter in your hands and holding onto his shoulder still with your left hand trying to keep yourself balanced. Elvis groaned up against your pussy and the vibrations from his groans felt so good against your pussy. He began to suck slowly on your clit, pulling you even closer to him, you loved when he ate you out, he always just devoured you like you were his last meal. He released your clit and moved his tongue down and he leaned back against the bench, resting his head up against it and now he was completely sitting on the floor of the dressing room, pulling you on top of his face.

You positioned yourself more comfortably on top of him, your knees now resting on that same bench, and he pushed you down on his face, shoving his tongue deep into your pussy and pumping it in and out of you at a steady and fast pace and he slowly began to rock your hips back and forth on top of him, the tip of his nose pressed up against your clit. You let out a louder moan, your eyes rolling shut from the pleasure, you quickly bit down on your bottom lip trying your best to keep quiet, your hands now resting up against the wall and you glanced down at him for a moment and you couldn’t even see him because of the skirt. He reached his hands around to place on your ass, squeezing it tightly as he rocked you even faster on his face, his tongue fucking your pussy deep and he would hold you, tongue for a moment on his face just to get his tongue nice and deep inside of you. “Fuck, Elvis…” you cried out. It was becoming harder to keep yourself quiet with the things he was doing to you. You needed something, anything to grip onto and so you reached your hands down to his head and grabbed onto his hair for leverage as you began to ride his tongue steadily. While the two of you were occupied in the dressing room a few customers had come in and anyone who walked by the dressing room had a good idea of what was happening from inside of it from the sounds that were coming from it. The poor checkout girl also knew especially when she didn’t see either of you on the floor. She just kept apologizing to everyone that complained.

You weren’t sure how long you were going to last; you were still recovering from what he did to you earlier that afternoon and you were surprised you even had it in you to do this right now. You were riding his face faster and now he let you take control his hands resting on the floor, his tongue and your movements were in sync with one another. You were whimpering and moaning out his name over and over. You could hear his muffled groans, he loved when you sat on his face. If could be buried in your pussy all day, he probably would be with the way he eats you out. At this point your orgasm was already building quickly and your legs were shaking as you felt yourself grow closer to cumming your thighs slightly closed around his head. You muttered out in an airy breath, “Mm, baby… I’m gonna cum…” when he heard your words, he raised his hands up and held you down on his face as his tongue thrusted out of you at a faster pace, rubbing his nose firmly against your clit. That pushed you way over the edge and you through your head back in complete ecstasy and your orgasm came out in droves, the noises leaving you were hard to contain as they echoed in the dressing room and you came on his face, riding out your orgasm for a few seconds more until you couldn’t anymore. You were heavily breathing your eyes still rolling back as you let out a soft whine, carefully moving off his face and sitting up on your knees on the bench and he moved from where he was sitting, and he stood up with a smirk. His face and is hair a mess, he grabbed your panties that were in his back pocket using them to wipe his face clean, giving them a quick sniff before stuffing them back in his pocket.

You watched him, bringing one of your hands up to your mouth and biting at your nails a bit as you began flustered and you watched him fixing his hair. He looked over at you with a wide grin. “Mm, thank you for that, darlin’.” He said softly. You got up off the bench, smiling at him. “So, I guess we’re getting this skirt?” you laughed. “Oh, baby.. We’re getting all of them. You can model the rest of the clothes for me at home.” He said with a grin. You nodded at his words, smiling as you slipped the skirt off and grabbed your dress and slipped it back on, looking in the mirror with him as you soothed out your dress and fixed yourself up a bit. Now you had no panties on now, so you had to be careful how you moved in your dress. Elvis was grabbing all the clothes he planned on buying for you, gathering them up. “Let’s go, I’m sure the poor girl out there is wondering where we went.” He chuckled softly as he opened the dressing room curtain, you quickly grabbed your purse and followed behind him, shaking your head. The two of you walked up to the checkout counter and the girl was giving you both a look and Elvis just seemed completely unphased and you couldn’t help but laugh a little as she began to check your things out.

“Oh wait!” Elvis exclaims. “Baby, go get the jewelry you were lookin’ at over there.” He says. “No. itt’s okay, baby. We can get it next time.” You say with a smile, wanting to just get out of there. Elvis smirked and shook his head a bit and he walked over to the jewelry picking out the ones he saw you looking at and then coming back to place it on the counter. You rolled your eyes at Elvis because he couldn’t just take no for an answer. Once she finished checking you guys out, Elvis paid and grabbed all the bags. He politely said thank you to the girl and gestured for you to lead the way out. You smiled at him and began walking to the door, holding it open as you both walked out and to the car, Elvis sat the bags in the back seat and then he opened the passenger side door for you, closing it shut and then getting in on the driver’s side. “Are we going to the amusement park now? You asked sweetly.

“Not yet, honey. I want to show you around more.” He nodded with smile, Elvis’ favorite thing to do whenever he brought someone to Memphis was to show them around and point out all the different places he used to hang out at or where he cut his first record and even where he went to school. You smiled at him and nodded slowly, reaching over to take his hand into yours, taking in the sites as he drove, whenever you were coming up on a place, he would tell you a story of something that happened to him there. You’d smile at him; he was a great storyteller that you could listen to him all day. You rode around for a few hours and once it was getting dark that’s when Elvis decided it was time to go to the amusement park. Little did you know that he had paid to rent the place out for the night. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing several kisses against it. “Alright, now it’s time for the amusement park!” he said happily, and he began the drive there.

You were so happy because it had been a while since you’ve been to an amusement park, and you knew it was bound to be a great time with Elvis and his friends. It didn’t take long for you and Elvis to arrive along with his entourage behind you. The amusement park was completely lit up and empty, you’ve never experienced something like this before. Elvis parked the car and excitedly got out; you couldn’t help but laugh at him a bit he looked like a giddy little kid. You stepped out of the car, leaving your purse behind as you watched Elvis and the guys acting like little kids and you just stood back watching them all and suddenly Elvis and the guys were running over to the bumper cars and you followed behind them, laughing to yourself. You watched from the sidelines as they all hopped into a car, you’ve seen how they roughhoused with each other, so you knew bumper cars wouldn’t be any different. You watched with a smile, seeing how happy Elvis looked, you loved seeing him smile. Elvis was waving at you now and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, he was so cute.

As you continued to stand there out of the corner of your eyes you saw someone coming up to stand beside you and you realized it was Sonny and you quickly looked away from him, unable to look him after what he witnessed you and Elvis doing. He reeked of alcohol, and you noticed Elvis was too distracted with the guys to notice and you stood there silently. Sonny was staring at you now a drunken smirk on his face and you noticed him moving closer to you which only caused you to move away from him. “You ain’t gotta be shy with me, honey. You certainly weren’t shy earlier today.” He said with grin and now he was wrapping his arm around your waist, and you quickly pushed him away from you. “Stop it, Sonny. You’re drunk.” You say sternly. “Aw, c’mon… Don’t be like that.” He says and now he was grabbing you, his hands pulling up your dress as he kissed you and you were hitting him and trying to shove him off you. “No, stop it! Let me go!” you screamed and now you had caught Elvis’ attention and when he saw what was happening, he immediately stopped what he was doing and jumped out of the bumper car, running over to you, yanking Sonny off you and you stumbled back a bit as you watched Elvis slam him to the ground and punching him in the face. You were trying to comprehend what just happened, you watched as the other guys came running over trying to pull Elvis off him. “You sonaofbitch! You lay a finger on her again and I’ll rip your goddamn tongue out by the roots!” Elvis yelled as Joe and Charlie managed to pull Elvis away from him. “Get him the hell out of here!” he barked. Charlie and Joe now help Sonny up and remove him from the amusement park.

You stood off to the side, shaken up from what just happened and what could’ve happened if Elvis didn’t hear you scream, your eyes were welling up with tears. Once they got Elvis to calm down, he pushed through the guys to make his way over to you, his hands cupping your face as he looked at you with such concern. “Are you okay, baby? Did he hurt you?” he asks frantically. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight as a few tears fell from your eyes and he wrapped his arms around you, his right-hand tangling in your hair as he kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now.” He said softly. You continued to hug him tight not wanting to let him go, you sniffled quietly, looking up at him and he smiled at you, wiping some of your tears away with his thumb, he kissed your cheek gently. “Did you want to go home, honey?” he asked. You shook your head at his words, not wanting to ruin the fun for him or his friends. “No, I’m okay. I promise, baby.” You said softly. “You sure?” he asked, and you nodded slowly.

“Okay, c’mon, you and I will go on a ride together, little one.” He said with a smile, pulling away and taking your hand into his, you nodded and smiled at him, holding onto his hand tightly as you walked along side him, you didn’t want to let him, you tried your best to relax even though you were still shaken up. But you knew you were safe now. You were always safe with Elvis. He was leading the two of you to the Ferris wheel and he gave a smile and wave at the operator of the ride, as the two of you walked up and into one of the pods as you both sat down, Elvis wrapped his arms around your shoulders you laid your head against him, wrapping your arms around his torso, he kissed the top of your head and now the Ferris wheel began to move. Elvis glanced down at you with a smile. “You sure you’re okay, baby?” he asked. You nodded your head; you were going to be a bit clingy with him after what almost happened. “I’m sure, honey.” You said softly.

It was quiet between the two of you for a few minutes. “N/A?” he asked. “Yes, Elvis?” You lifted your head up to look at him. “I just wanted to properly apologize to you for the way I acted today. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you or make you cry. I just-” before he could finish his sentence you had placed your fingertips against his lips. “Shh..” you said quietly. “I should have never questioned your feelings for me, so I’m sorry too. I just want you to know, I will consider marrying you when the time comes. But that better not have been your way of asking me.” You giggled softly. He grinned at your words and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips and he mumbled the words, “I love you.” Softly against your lips. “I love you too, baby.” You mumbled back. “And no.. That wasn’t my way of asking you. When the time is right for us... I’ll ask.” He nodded with a smile

“Good.” You mumbled softly, kissing his cheek several times before you rested your head back against him now, the two of you going around the Ferris wheel a few times. Just enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. You loved him so much. You already knew this was the man you wanted to spend forever with. Mrs. N/A Presley… It has a nice ring to it…

TAGLIST: @erutluve @idk3453 @natipooxx @elvisgirl35 @godlypresley @lindszeppelin @re3kin @elvisdoll @pennyroyalcreep @kaitaesupremacy @presleyturner @presleybewbie @thesandmanarchive

#elvis presley #Elvis #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis presely smut #elvis fluff #elvisaaronpresley #Graceland #68 comeback special #elvis fandom #fanfic

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

Note

*rolls this over to you for Consideration* Probably gonna make a post on this later but personal headcanon that Vergil and Dante would both be really good at dance in an AU, or even in canon (they do it for fun), just because of how physically demanding it is. Dante I could see having the most fun with it, but Vergil I feel like could be good too. Probably better at keeping up with the rhythm and showing his partner off than Dante, but probably hates being the center of attention himself. Especially if it involves emotional stuff. (That and because Vergil knowing how to tango is just 👀 I would like to see it 👀 Would also like to see him get flustered and blush while dancing with somebody he's got a crush on, just because it'd be cute 💙)

AH OKAY, SO I ACTUALLY HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS (because I've read quite a few one-shots that involve dancing with the Sparda babs) AND I AM GLAD YOU MENTIONED IT!

All underlined things are links to videos of the dance(s) that I referenced in my research lol Forgive the pixelated quality of some of these, they can get kinda old lmao

So, for starters: I think that all of the Sparda-bloodline would have been/are good dancers, some more than others. All of them are talented swordsmen and fighters which in and of itself is a type of dance. All of their heights might be an issue, however. As someone who is a very tall 5' 2" the fact that they are all over 6' tall would make dancing hard.

Sparda would've been the best of the four and he would've had the most knowledge on it. I feel like he would've been alive for long enough that he was able to watch humans throughout the years, learning lots of things... including dance. I feel like he and Eva would've danced a lot. As to what he would've done the best? Sparda would've been very good at all of it (since he's been alive so damned long) however I could see Eva just being into Rumba or something like a (very unprofessional) Argentine Tango--just because it would've been fun for Eva to do with her husband.

Vergil would be the next best dancer--at least, with traditional dances. He would've learned from Sparda when he was young, per the request of his mother. Vergil used to sneak downstairs late at night to see his parents dance and would mimic them, using an invisible partner, so she wanted to have Sparda teach him (because Vergil is interrupting Mommy and Daddy's time alone together lmao). He'd be good at things like the Foxtrot and Ballroom Tango. Anything fast he is amazing at while anything slow is a little harder for him. He tends to like moving around a lot and doing fancy twists or dips. However, he knows a lot of slow dances too. Vergil would also be very into single-person dances when in private; the first thing that came to my mind was Flamenco dancing. Just imagine getting Vergil either so ungodly drunk that he busts this out or challenging him--if you tell him he can't do something, he will do so just to prove you wrong. This blue devil would be really hard to learn from, he's bad at explaining himself, so you'd have to learn by yourself. It isn't anything against you, Vergil just sucks at teaching and he knows it. Vergil would 100% dance with you in private. It is an excuse to show off--and to get nice and close to you. The idea of him just coming up and nonchalantly asking to dance makes my heart just fucKING MELT. If you gave him the same treatment, he'd die on the spot. The stoned-face devil is a romantic at heart so his lover putting on a record (or CD if you aren't into vinyl) and asking to dance, just warms his cold heart. (This all applies to V as well--the only thing that's different is that V is better with slow dances since he can't move very well, to begin with.)

Dante and Nero would be on even grounds as to who is the better dancer.

I'm gonna start with Dante because he's older. Dante would be very good at just winging shit--the Dr. Faust scene is a great example, he didn't make it up but he just pulled it out of nowhere. If we want to talk traditional dances, Dante would be good at things that are fast--like the Salsa (I was thinking specifically Salsa Caleña), Balboa (pure or swing), Quickstep, and Merengue. He would be the most lax about his partner not knowing what the hell is going on and would be the easiest to learn from. As long as you and him are having fun he doesn't care how bad either of you are at it--or if you step on his feet the entire time, he just wants to see you smile. Dante would also be the only one out of the four to dance without an issue, like in a public or bar setting.

Nero would be an odd dancer. He's got the gumption and is able to keep rhythm pretty well, however, he just doesn't know any "traditional" dances. He'd just make it up as he'd go. His dancing would be relatively "aggressive" and he'd move you around a ton. Add that with his "wings" then you'd best hope you don't end up motion sick. Dante (eventually) teaches him some stuff so Nero would end up knowing Quickstep and Balboa (pure and swing). Nero would 100% get carried away in the heat of the moment and do little cutesy dances in excitement (nothing super intricate, just little wiggly movement-type stuff). He'd also be into just quietly slow dancing with you at home, holding you close, and just rocking with you. Just like his father, if you were to ask him to dance, he'd die on the spot. He is also the only one of the four that wouldn't mind you leading the dance instead of him.

I'd like to hear anyone else thoughts on this! If there are any dances that I didn't mention that y'all think might fit, please let me know. I might've been in theatre and was a performer, but I know absolutely dick-diddly about dancing; I was born with two left hands for feet, if that helps make sense of things lmao

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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2dmenenthusiast · 11 months

Text

Last Night on Earth Pt. 7

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

okayyy I wanted this chapter to be longer but I was already taking too long with it so I just wanted to get it out already lmaooo

THIS IS NOT THE END BTW!!! there is more chapters coming after this

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

“Okay, there’s your tea. Do you need anything else? Another pillow?”

“Momma,” you laughed, shaking your head, “I’m fine. Thank you, really. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, ya know,”

She sighed, giving you a tight lipped smile. “When did you get so grown up?”

“Like, five seconds ago, I think?”

She laughed and left the living room, and you grabbed the TV remote to begin mindlessly scrolling through channels. Of course, there was nothing good on. Never was this time of day. Besides reruns of Law & Order: SVU. That was always a good brain killer.

The familiar base and funky guitar riff began to play, but before you could get any further, your brother was jumping over the back of the couch and snatching the remote out of your hand, changing the channel to some raunchy cartoon you had less than zero interest in watching.

“There’s a TV in your room, asswipe.”

“This one’s bigger, shithead.”

“Just because I have a broken leg and a fractured rib, doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

“Hey!”

You turned your head, seeing your father come into the room before taking the remote out of Lucas’s hand and shutting off the TV.

“You two knuckleheads need to cut the shit. Lucas, go do something. Don’t want you sittin’ around all day doing nothin’.”

He cursed and grumbled to himself, storming off like an upset toddler. When he was out of sight, your father took his spot next to you, and turned the TV back on, and switched to American Pickers.

You arched a brow. “Really?”

“Hey, they find some cool stuff on here.”

You shake your head and smile, choosing to watch rather than argue. When Zoe passed by, she grimaced and made a disgusted noise.

“Again?”

“Oh, I’m guessing this one is popular?” you asked.

“He only watched it almost every day you were gone.” Regardless of her opinion, Zoe sat on the couch.

You shrugged. “Well, I wanna see what all the hype is about then.”

You looked up at your father with a small smile, and he just put a hand on your head and mussed with your hair.

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

“Hey!” Zoe cried.

Your father laughed, and you looked down at your cast that was adorned with the signatures of your family. Your mother had written “Mom” in neat cursive with a heart right on the front. A stark contrast to the big, jagged letters of your brother’s name that stretched vertically up the entire side. Zoe’s name was smaller, The Z underlining the rest of her name, and your dad wrote right under your mother’s signature, with a few uplifting words.

“Our strong little soldier.”

Your fingers gently ran over the rough edge of your cast, and you smiled. Recovery would be rough, sitting around being able to do nothing while your body wanted to stay active. And the promise of sleep without nightmares was almost impossible. But, at least you had your family here to help you get through it. And you couldn’t ask for anything better.

***

The smell of spices and cooking veggies was the first thing to disturb your slumber. Then the muttering of voices slowly trickled in your ears before you lifted your head with a groan.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

Your fingers dug into worn leather, one hand reaching up to wipe at your eyes as your vision adjusted to the soft lighting in the room. When you sat up and came face to face with the person that spoke, your breath froze in your lungs.

“You okay, hun? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A gentle hand was placed against your forehead, and your eyes narrowed.

“Momma?”

She smiled, brushing your hair away from your forehead.”Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

You watched as she walked away before looking down at your hands, and you recognized the living room couch you currently rested on. Everything looked just as it did. Before Eveline came into your lives. The hum of the TV intermingling with the voices of your family in the other room. The smell of delicious food coming from the kitchen.

You pinched yourself.

Nothing. No way this was real.

Standing up, you hesitantly made your way through the dining room and watched your mother as she stood over a big pot of stew, Zoe right beside her pouring glasses of tea.

“Lucas, could you help set the table, please?”

Your brother groaned, shoved his phone in his pocket, and stood from the table.

No. This was all too normal. Too real. But it couldn’t be. You were just running for your life seconds ago with—

Ethan!

Frantically rushing forward, your hand grasped the doorknob of the double doors, but the sound of your mother saying your name had you pausing.

“Oh! Darlin’, could you go fetch your father? He’s down in the garage working on that car again.”

Slowly turning, you gave your mom an uneasy grin and exited the kitchen. Making sure the doors closed behind you, you took a second to take a deep breath, trying to gain some sense of thought. You knew this wasn’t real. You knew it was probably some hyper realistic dream something conjured up in your brain. But, the more you stood there to take it all in, you realized that you didn’t feel uneasy or scared. You felt… calm. Like this was just another normal day in your old life, in your home, where everything was safe and okay.

It felt right.

Taking another breath, you descended the steps to the garage and caught your father bent under the hood of his car, fiddling with something near the engine.

“D… Daddy?”

He lifted his head, giving you a glance. “Hey! Pass me that flathead over there, would you?”

Your head followed his finger to the toolbox resting on the bench, grabbing the screwdriver and placing it in his grease covered hand.

“Momma said dinner’s ready.”

Letting out a grunt, he stood to his full height and faced you, wiping off his hands with a dirty rag. He smiled, and it immediately made your heart ache.

“Best not keep her waiting, then.”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, casting your eyes to the concrete floor. Your father went to walk past you, but you heard his shoes scrape against the floor as he stopped, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you okay, kid?”

You tightly pressed your lips together to try and keep them from trembling, but you couldn’t hide your red rimmed eyes from him as you looked up, and his expression dropped.

“Oh, kiddo.”

Choking on a sob, your father wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug whilst you buried your face in his shirt. He smelled like cologne and car oil, a smell you’d never not associate with him. It felt surreal to be in his arms, to feel the warmth of his embrace surrounding you. You almost forgot what it felt like.

“Come on. You gonna tell me what’s troublin’ you?”

You sniffled, shaking your head and gripping the back of his shirt. You couldn’t bear letting him go. Not when you just got him back.

“I’m scared, daddy. I’m so damn scared, and I just— I don’t know—”

“Shhh. We don’t gotta talk about that right now. Whatever it is, you know your momma and I will help you through it.”

Another sob wracked your body, and your father pulled your face out of his chest to brush his thumbs over your cheeks, gently wiping away the fountain of tears pouring down.

“Hey, don’t you worry about a thing right now. You’re too young to be stressin’ about silly things.”

You willed yourself to laugh, leaning into his hand. His touch was warm, familiar.

Shit.

You didn’t think this would hurt so much.

You knew none of it was real, but god, if you didn’t want to stay here forever. You’d be blissfully unaware of the outside, living the rest of your life in the warm presence of your loving family. You missed them more than words could ever express, and your heart ached with the thought of what your future with your family could’ve been if that little girl never showed up.

The reminder hit you like a ton of bricks, and you thought of Ethan. Where was he if you were here? You didn’t even know what here was. Were you dead? Were you dreaming? You wanted it to be real. You never wanted anything more than this. But you couldn’t abandon Ethan.

You couldn’t say goodbye again, either.

“I… I don’t know what to do, daddy. I feel like I’m just messing everything up, a-and i don’t know how to fucking fix it. I—”

You were cut off with another cry, and your father pulled your head into his chest again.

“Please. Please just tell me what to do, daddy. I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice and sobs were muffled in his shirt, holding onto him tightly as he softly quieted you.

“Well first, you’re gonna straighten that head up.” He made you step back, using his fingers to lift your chin so you held your head high. “You’re gonna wipe away those tears.” You did as he said, swiping your hands over your cheeks. “And you’re gonna be the strong soldier that we know you are.” He grabbed your shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You are strong. And you will figure out whatever it is because you’re a Baker.”

Sniffling, you nodded and mustered up a small smile for your father. He was right. He always was. But you certainly didn’t feel as strong or courageous as he saw you.

“Now there’s one more thing you need to do, okay?”

You nodded, straightening your shoulders.

“... Wake up.”

***

Ringing.

Ringing

More fucking ringing.

Christ, could someone shut that shit up?!

You startled with a gasp, body shooting up and your hand covering your chest to feel your heart thumping against your ribcage. There were hands on your arms and your name spewed frantically from Ethan. His voice sounded raw and hoarse, and when he gently grabbed your face so he could look at you properly, his eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears.

“You’re okay. Shit, you’re okay,” he says, choking on a breath as if he’s about to cry again.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s all you can say, and he almost looks surprised as he lets out a dry laugh, his hand adjusting its position on your jaw.

“So have you.”

You didn’t realize until he said something that you had fresh tears rolling down your face that he gently swiped away with his thumb. The look in his eyes, it was like he was seeing a ghost. A mix of relief and disbelief swirling around in them.

“You died.”

Your chest seized with a breath, brows furrowing as you shook your head. “How is that possible? I—”

“I don’t know. I-I… I was holding you one minute and then the next you— shit. You just stopped breathing. A-And I couldn’t feel your heart anymore, and you were just—”

“I saw them, Ethan. My momma and pops. And Lucas and Zoe were there. They—”

When you moved your arm, you realized it didn’t hurt as much as it did before. In fact, it didn’t hurt at all. You experimentally flexed your muscles and bent it at the elbow. It felt fine. Normal. Then, you were taking off your bandages, and your eyes widened when you saw that all your cuts and bruises were gone. Faint scars remain where they were.

“Holy shit. Check my back.”

You turned your back to Ethan, and you heard him gasp softly. The tips of his fingers gently brushed against your skin, causing a slight shiver to run through you, and he whispered out a curse.

“They’re healed.”

When you stood on your feet, you felt brand new. Rejuvenated. A wide smile broke out on your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was like you could take down a whole army!

“Holy shit,” you laughed, and Ethan stood. “I’m fucking invincible!”

Ethan’s own smile formed at the sight of yours, and before he knew it, you were grabbing his face and planting a hard but quick kiss on his cheek. You pulled away and ran into the next room before you could see the blush take over his face, and he cleared his throat as he followed after you.

“Hey, what are you—”

He cut himself off, and the room felt cold suddenly. It was like your mood did a complete shift, and he carefully watched you as you examined a photo that was resting on a table near an old, shabby couch. He recognised the room from when he first tried to save Mia. That felt so long ago now.

“There’s somethin’ I never told you, Ethan.”

Okay, that didn’t make him worried at all. You sighed, and handed him the photo. He looked at it closely, and saw it was a picture of the old lady in the wheelchair he saw when he first woke up in the house. He always assumed it was your grandmother, but now that he thought about it, you never mentioned her in your retelling of your family memories. Not once.

Then he turned the photo over.

E-001

Holy shit.

“Eveline.”

You nodded, and the look on your face spoke more than any words you could muster.

“I meant to tell you, I just… I couldn't find time to fit it into casual conversation, I guess. You know, with the whole running and fighting for our lives and all that.”

“Not much good the information would’ve done me, anyway. Although, the shock factor certainly has me speechless.”

You shrugged. “Could always do with a good ‘holy shit’ moment.”

“Mm. I think I already had one of those when you died and came back to life.”

“Sorry, I was saving that party trick for later.”

Ethan chuckled, but it quickly turned into a gasp when he reached the top of the stairs of the guest house, and the image of Eveline appeared in front of him. You were shocked to see it, too, knowing these weren’t your memories.

As you got closer, she disappeared, and her voice echoed through the dark, empty space.

“It’s your fault!”

Ethan stumbled back with a breath. “Why are we seeing this?”

You shook your head. Maybe Eveline knew. Knew that her end was getting closer. Maybe this was her last hurrah, a final attempt at striking fear through you to keep you from going after her. You knew she was afraid, herself. Because deep down under all that evil, and all that spite, there was just a little girl. A little girl who wanted nothing more than to have a family of her own, and it was ripped away from her. You could remember when you wanted that, too. More than anything. You just wished she had the similar story you did. Where a family did want you. A family loved you. But she would die, a child trapped in an elderly woman’s body.

What a sick joke.

When Mia suddenly stepped out in front of you and grabbed Ethan’s hand, you jumped back. But she ignored you, and when you looked behind her to see Eveline again, you realized it was another memory.

“Kill him, mommy.”

Ethan was slammed against the wall, and black crawled over Mia’s skin before she was raising a screwdriver and stabbing it through his hand. You almost screamed, terrified that he was actually hurt for a split second. But then she disappeared, and Eveline was right in his face.

“He doesn’t want to be my daddy? Then he can die.”

A deep breath shuddered through Ethan, and you helped him up onto his feet. He gripped your hand. Hard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just… Feels so long ago when all this happened. Hardly feels real.”

You grabbed his bicep.

“This is it, Ethan. All of this, everything that’s happened tonight, it will be a distant memory. For all of us.”

He looked up at you through lidded eyes, and his hand squeezed.

“All of it?”

You chuckled and pulled away. “Most of it.”

His fingers gently caught against yours when you pulled away, and you sent him a small grin. But it quickly dropped from your face when you heard the revving of a chainsaw and turned to see Mia rushing at you.

“Holy shit—”

When she swung at Ethan, you couldn’t stop the scream that left you that time. But as the chainsaw came down, it just went right through him. He frantically ran a hand over his torso, like he was checking to see if he was still in one piece. And the look he gave you seemed like he was shocked to find out that he was.

“Ethan—”

He rushed by you without a word, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time.

“Ethan!”

Quickly following after him, you almost cursed him out for rushing on ahead of you. That was until Evie appeared again, and Ethan had the syringe out and ready. She physically recoiled at the sight, screaming her disdain, and the force practically flung you and Ethan right off your feet.

“No, no, no! Stay away!”

When she screamed again, Ethan landed on his back, but not before shoving the syringe in your hand. The glass and metal was cold against your skin, watching it roll in your palm before you curled your fingers around it and gripped it tightly. So tight you thought you might break it, but you couldn’t risk having it fly out of your hands. It was like a brick wall was pushing back against you, that feeling like you were running in a dream where you just couldn’t move forward.

“Get away from me! Please! We can be a family!”

You finally got close enough to grip her shoulder, and you felt sorrowful.

“I’m sorry, Evie.”

The needle sunk into the junction between her neck and shoulder, and she screamed. It was so loud it almost burst your eardrums, ringing deep in your skull and ratling your brain. You winced as a bright light blinded you before the image of the little girl vanished, and in front of you was an old woman in a wheelchair. She looked up at you, tears in her eyes.

“... Why does everyone hate me?”

The words were like a knife striking your heart, and you kneeled down to touch her cold, bony hand.

“Goodbye, Eveline.”

Ethan finally joined you, but you both were jumping back when she suddenly stood out of her chair and began vomiting black ooze at your feet. She was shouting as her features morphed and melted, a look of horror forming on your face, and her body was nothing more than a puddle of mold and goo on the floor by the end of it.

“Damn you! Damn you all to Hell!”

Everything seemed to unfold before your eyes, a horrible situation only growing worse as mold quickly crawled over every imaginable surface around you, swallowing any remaining light, and formed a giant mass right in the middle of the wall. The mold shifted, and a horrible face was revealed under the mass, lashing out and screaming.

“Holy fuck!”

Your finger was on the trigger faster than you could think, pumping as many bullets as you could into the thing. You heard the boom of Ethan’s shotgun go off next to you, the sound making your ears ring, but nothing seemed to work. She was just getting closer and closer, jaw unhinged like she was ready to take a bite out of you.

“Ethan, I don’t think—!”

The floor rumbled under your feet when Ethan shot directly into Eveline’s eye and she screamed, the mold around her forming long tentacle like tendrils. The roof began to collapse, but she was grabbing you before you could run and thrusting you both through the broken roof. Ethan screamed, but you couldn’t see him. The mold had practically consumed him.

But then you were flying. Falling. Your sight full of nothing but clear blue skies.

It was beautiful.

Then the air was forced out of your lungs and you went tumbling through the dirt. It was like your lungs were on fire, desperately trying to suck air back into your body. It was only then that Ethan landed next to you, screaming out in pain. You tried to reach out for him, but he was too far, and you could barely move. Not when pain was shooting up your legs and back.

“Ethan. Ethan!”

He turned his head, staring at you with wide, horrified eyes. Your attention was quickly drawn away, though, when the mutated Eveline burst through the roof of the guest house and came rushing down at you. She had only gotten bigger, more monstrous. It was unreal.

Pain shot through your leg, and you put a new mag in your gun. “Fuck, this is not how I planned the rest of my day going!”

Bullets seemed almost pointless for something this big. Like it would just absorb everything you shot at it.Your grip tightened around your gun. You couldn’t get this far just to lay on your back and die. Not when you’re so damn close to finishing all this.

Ethan cried out, and you looked over to see that the mold had pierced through his leg and was lifting him into the air, his gun flying out of his hands. Fear surged through you, and you screamed his name, reaching up like you could grab him and pull him back down. He was flung across the yard, rolling only further away from you. You felt so fucking useless. Like you couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save him. Your friends' faces flashed in your mind.

You wouldn’t let him meet the same fate.

You struggled to your feet with a strained cry, limping your way towards Ethan with pain shooting up your legs every dragged step of the way. Everything hurt so fucking much. You could practically feel every bone in your body aching and begging for rest. But you couldn’t stop. Not when Ethan was in trouble. Not when he could die if you didn’t do anything.

“Come on. Come on.”

You limply raised your arm, the weight of your gun heavy in your hand, and shot the remaining bullets in your clip. Then you heard the steady beating of helicopter wings, and for a second, you thought you were back in the field. Trying to protect your friends while taking out the enemy. But then you looked up, and you saw them.

They were real.

You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. You briefly wondered if it was just a trick of the light. If it was a memory Eveline was playing for you. But you knew what her hallucinations looked like. This was too real to be one.

There was a muffled shout coming from Ethan’s direction, and you looked over to see him crawl for a gun a few feet away before shooting at Evie. The gun was more powerful than you’d ever seen a standard handgun be, and you could physically see the kickback even from how far away you were. Evie was hiding her face, trying to shield herself behind her mold, but Ethan was fast, reacting quick and getting a shot in whenever he could.

She thrashed around in the air, screaming bloody murder and cursing you and Ethan to Hell. Slowly, you watched as her face began to turn white, solidifying her features and crawling down her mutated form until she stopped moving. It was like a building coming down when she fell, landing right at Ethan’s feet. Chunks of her fell off and turned to dust at the force, and the ground shook beneath your feet. But holy shit.

It was over.

She was dead.

You were free.

Debris and ash fell around you, and you watched Eveline’s face crumble to pieces. Your legs struggled to move, but you willed them as hard as you could despite the pain rushing through them.

“Ethan!”

His head snapped towards you, and you could see him mouth your name. He struggled onto his feet, and your muscles burned with the fire of your efforts to reach him. Face wet with fresh tears, you steadily closed the distance between you until you were just a few feet away, but the pain in your legs finally caught up to you, and you stumbled on your feet. Ethan was right there, though, and you were crashing into his chest with a sob, hands gripping the back of his shirt.

He held you so tight it hurt, your ribs crushing your lungs as you struggled to breathe through broken cries. But you didn’t care, because it felt good to be in his arms again, knowing you were safe.

He buried his face in your hair, hand coming up to hold the back of your head, and pressed his lips against your temple.

“We’re okay. Fuck, you’re okay.”

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes frantically searching your face, and you laughed. His smile soon matched yours, and he carefully wiped away a rogue tear before it could dry on your face. The sight of people in full body armor sliding down ropes from the helicopters had you stepping away, but you put yourself in front of Ethan when one of them came towards you, his mask imposing and threatening. Not to mention just how big this person looked underneath all of it.

When he pulled his headgear off, it revealed the face of a man older than Ethan, crows feet around his eyes and grey at his temples. His brown hair was cropped short, and stubble surrounded the tight lipped smile he gave you.

“I’m Redfield.”

He held out his hand, and you clapped yours against it for a firm shake.

“What the hell took you guys so long?”

He chuckled, and directed you to a few of his squad members.

“They’ll see to your injuries over there. There’s a helicopter waiting to take you out of here.”

Ethan gripped the man’s arm before he could walk away, worry washing over his face. “Mia, is she—?”

“We found her. She’s fine.”

Ethan visibly relaxed, and you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go get you patched up, cowboy.”

He smiled, and you both leaned against each other's side for support. But, while you were walking away, you heard the man speak into his com, muttering something. Then you heard a name.

Lucas.

You froze, and before Ethan could express his concern, you told him to go on ahead. He hesitated, not wanting to go too far away from you, but you reassured him with a smile and pushed him forward. Making sure his back was turned to you, you quickly— well, as quick as you could— maneuvered around and walked back towards the older man, loudly clearing your throat. He turned, eyebrow raised.

“You guys are looking for Lucas?”

“You know him?”

“He’s my brother.”

He nodded, as if you confirmed something. “Right. You’re the one the Baker’s adopted.”

Your eyes widened. “How the hell—?”

“We’ve done extensive research and background checks on your brother, including the rest of the family. Military. Special forces. Put on medical leave. Then you disappeared.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Held captive more like. Look, if you’re going after him, I’m coming with you.”

He shook his head without a second thought. “Absolutely not. I won’t have any civilian casualties on my watch—”

“I don’t believe I was asking,” you said through gritted teeth. You let out a huff. “I can help, okay? I know his tricks, I know what kind of fucked up shit he’s got going through his head to know what moves he’s probably gonna pull. And…” You swallowed thickly, trying to keep your anger from boiling over at the thought of that asshole. “He hurt my sister, the people I care about. He tried to fucking kill us. If anyone’s taking down this bastard, it’s gonna be me.”

Redfield seemed to stew on your words, thinking a bit too long for your liking before letting out a sigh.

“Even if I wanted you to come, you’re in no position to go. You can barely stand on your feet.”

“Then pump me full of adrenaline, give me a super shot, anything. I don’t care. I’m going.”

You turned around and walked to where Ethan was receiving medical attention, his eyes watching that entire interaction.

“You always this stubborn?” Redfield shouted after you.

You raised your middle finger, and the man that was once tending to Ethan stepped to the side so you could tell him the situation. You could tell he was hesitant to let you go off on what he probably viewed as a suicide mission, but your hard stare and unrelenting attitude made him cave, and he was shoving a large needle with a strange green liquid inside it in your arm the within the next few seconds. You winced at the painful pinch, but the sensation that washed over you made you feel like you were back to one-hundred percent almost. He then explained that the next shot he was giving you was the vaccine, sticking it in the opposite arm. If you were honest, you didn’t feel any different after it. But maybe that was because Eveline was dead, and she had no hold on you anymore. “It’s not a permanent solution. You’ll still need a hospital visit and have your wounds properly looked at and dressed, but it’ll do for now.”

You nodded as you had your wounds cleaned and rewrapped with fresh gauze. Ethan looked at you confused.

“Wait, what? What does he mean?”

You sighed. He wasn’t going to like this.

“I’m going with them to find Lucas. I’m not letting my brother get away.”

Ethan stood despite other’s protests, shaking his head.

“You can’t do that! We— shit, we killed Eveline! Let these guys handle him!”

“Ethan—”

“No! Fuck, I’m not gonna stand by and let you put yourself in danger! Not when I just got you back!”

You stood there, shocked. Honestly, if you were in Ethan’s shoes, you’d react the same if he decided to suddenly go off fighting without you. But, you couldn’t let Lucas get away from you. Not after everything he did to you. And Zoe. And Ethan.

He gulped, tears lining his eyes. “Please, I— Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

It was like the air was punched out of you, taking in a shuddered breath as you reached forward and held Ethan’s face. Fuck, his eyes were pretty.

“Don’t forget about me.”

Chapped and bloodied lips pressed against his in an almost desperate measure to memorize him, the feel of his body pressed up against you, his smell, the way he tasted. Ethan sighed against your mouth as his hand came up to carefully hold your jaw. Whereas the last kiss was a reassurance in a moment of doubt, this one almost felt like a goodbye. One final act to remember each other before you were sent off into the void again. Ethan didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. Not when this felt so right and you were in his arms and kissing him and you were here. With him. Not off getting yourself killed by whatever your sick, demented brother had planned. You were safe. And he wanted to keep it that way.

But, he knew he couldn’t stop you. Knew that you needed this closure. So he pulled away from your lips with a soft gasp, and rested his forehead against yours.

“You know I couldn’t.”

You smiled, slowly pulling away, and a looming presence appeared behind you.

“Come on. We gotta get you geared up.”

You turned around, giving Redfield a two finger mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

Ethan chuckled as you walked away, and you heard a low grumble.

“It’s Captain.”

“Sir Captain?”

“Captain Redfield.”

“Ahh. So first name basis is a no go? I mean, you know all about me apparently—”

“Is this really why you got sent home? For running your mouth?”

You turned abruptly, hands on your hips as you tilted your head up to look at this absolute behemoth of a man.

“I’d like to know whose life I’m putting in my hands, if you don’t mind. Little something called having trust in your team.”

He sighed, and you knew you were putting more wrinkles in his forehead and greys in his hair by each passing second. You almost smiled.

“It’s Chris.”

You curtly nodded when he reached out his hand, and instead of taking it, your fist was quick as lightning when it hit his bicep. He barely flinched. And now your knuckles hurt.

The fuck is his workout routine?

“Let’s get this show on the road then, Hercules.”

He wordlessly shrugged as you walked away, and Ethan couldn’t help but look on with a fond smile.

Yeah. He couldn’t forget about you if he tried.

Tagged: @kirbybeanss @xdarkcreaturex

#Ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #resident evil #resident evil biohazard #resident evil 7 #re7 #ethan winters x gn!reader #ethan winters fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction

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