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missmaywemeetagain · 4 months ago

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Broken Glass Chapter 11.1 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Thank you so much for your patience as I got this up on different platforms due to unforeseen life crap! 💗 Okay, so Chapter 11 got a bit away from me length wise, so for sanity's sake (and so I can make some more revisions to some much-anticipated sexy times 🤭), I am posting part one of the chapter instead of making y'all wait any longer.

Some major, life-altering things went down in Chapter 10 and this chapter from Lori's perspective deals with a bit of the reality and consequences of that. (You can refresh your memory here if you need to!) We jump back in the next morning. She's got A LOT of feels going on in this chapter leading into some more twists and turns in 11.2, so the ending of this might feel a bit abrupt since it will all be part of the same chapter. Sorry!

Also, please excuse my alterations of some of the recording dates a bit to serve the story!

Anyway, as always. I can't wait to hear what you think! 💋

Loves and kisses, Madi xoxoxoxo 💗

TW: So many angsty feels, the Colonel, pregnancy and related symptoms, fear of miscarriage, Elvis and his endless PDA...smut to come in part 2 🤭

Broken Glass Chapter 11.1

“You’re what?!”

You wince at the way Tom Parker spits the words out, his shock and ire so palpable it feels like a slap to the face. The anxiousness skyrocketing through you, paired with the rapid beat of your heart knocking against your ribs, leaves you unable to look at the man, but you know he’s furious.

“We’re getting married. As soon as possible,” Elvis repeats firmly, grabbing your hand and squeezing. It seems unconscious the way he steps slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from the older man’s anger. You appreciate the gesture. No one, save for your mother, has ever protected you.

Elvis sounds so steadfast and sure about all of it. He’s a better actor than people give him credit for, but this performance is going above and beyond anything you’d assumed he was capable of.

Or maybe he means it.

Your heart flips, just the way it did last night when he asked you to marry him.

The last 24 hours have gone and changed everything so quickly that your head is still spinning. The moment when Elvis kneeled on the bathroom floor with you, wiped away your sick, and offered to fix everything, it felt so very real. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his eyes.

And despite it being an arrangement born out of necessity and not love, it was nothing like Gianni’s horrific proposal.

Your stomach turns at the memory of that nightmare before Parker’s voice cuts through, bringing you back to the task at hand.

“What in God’s name has gotten into you, boy?” The beady-eyed man glares around Elvis’ broad shoulders at you. You resist the urge to shiver under his accusatory gaze. “Did you threaten to go to the press, young lady? Is this about money?”

“Hey, now, Colonel,” Elvis says, deceptively calm, but his voice is low with warning. “It’s not like that at all. And you best mind your tone.”

Parker’s eyes flicker to Elvis with an edge of surprise, taking in Elvis’ protective stance and words in silence. You get the impression Elvis hasn’t stood up to the man before, not like this, anyhow. The crackle of tension in the air has you all on edge.

The older man’s eyes narrow shrewdly, and you worry you won’t be able to pull this off. You’ve observed enough in the last month to understand the influence he has over Elvis, the slight manipulations he wields, pushing Elvis right where he wants him.

Parker looks at you with scrutiny. He takes you in from head to toe. Your breath catches in your throat and you want nothing more than to disappear and pretend the last day was a dream. But you cannot. Forcing yourself to hold his stare, you remind yourself of everything at stake here.

There is no doubt in your mind he will throw you to the wolves the moment he senses anything amiss, the moment you threaten the image of his star client. So it has to be crystal clear you are here to stay, even though it makes you sick to lie.

But there are much worse things than white lies waiting for you out in the world. And as heartbroken and shocked as you are about this baby, you already know you’ll do anything to protect it.

You aren’t even conscious of the way your hand splays over your stomach, not until Parker’s eyes freeze there. His eyes snap up to yours and then to Elvis.

“Oh, you didn’t,” Parker groans. “Christ, I picked this one specifically because I thought she was smart enough not to fall into bed with you the minute you two were alone. Turns out she’s smarter than I gave her credit for—she managed to ensnare you and ensure she’d always be tied to Elvis Presley,” he spits.

Your cheeks flame hot with the accusation, and you can’t hold back your gasp at his insinuation, even though it shouldn’t be a surprise.

Elvis squeezes your hand tight and points at Parker, his eyes stormy and livid. “Don’t you dare blame her for this! On the train, you made it clear how she needed to improve her ‘attitude’ towards me and I told ya not to worry. Well, I took care of it,” he shrugs flippantly.

You try not to gape at his blasé attitude, wanting to trust Elvis to do what he needs to make this convincing.

“You damn well know I didn’t mean ‘get her pregnant’!” Parker hisses. “And we had this talk when you were just starting out! I know you know better than to—”

“I’m in love with her,” Elvis interrupts with such conviction your stomach swoops and you need to school your face to look like you aren’t amazed by how truthful his statement sounds. The earnestness on his handsome face takes your breath away.

Tom looks sorry for him. “Oh, son, we both know how easily you fall in love. But I don’t think you understand the gravity or responsibility of starting a family. What it’ll do to your image. Girls want you unattached and available, and they’re the ones buying the records."

From anyone else, it might be imbued with caring and concern, but coming from Parker, it is backhanded and insulting with the way he talks down to Elvis, as though he were still a 19-year-old kid instead of a 25-year-old man. But he does it with the finesse of a snake charmer.

You watch Elvis carefully as he recoils a bit, an innocence flashing over his features you’ve only seen in his most vulnerable moments making a quick appearance. For a second, you are terrified he’ll cave and you’ll have to pack your bags and head West after all. Thankfully, he blinks it away, steeling himself with the stubbornness which usually drives you crazy but just might work in your favor today.

“We’re in love. We’re gettin’ married, and that’s all there is to it.” It comes out as a growl and the sound reaches down to your toes.

Parker shakes his head, grasping at anything to control his client. There’s a carefully veiled desperation in his voice which barely conceals the threat he now lobs at Elvis: “This’ll ruin you, boy! What will your father do when the money is gone, hmm? Your cousins? Your friends? That big house you bought your mother? It’ll all be gone.”

Elvis looks as though he’s been slapped. But not you. Life has made you good at reading people, at seeing through men like this. Perhaps it is the fact you are running on adrenaline or because you have so much to lose, but you find yourself furious at Parker for speaking this way to Elvis.

“And after everything I’ve done to ensure your success, you’d throw it all away for—”

“How?” You barely register you’ve spoken until Parker’s glare lands on you.

Elvis looks down at you with surprise. It wasn’t part of the plan for you to interject; Elvis thought he could handle Parker on his own.

“How exactly will getting married and having a family ‘ruin’ him? Last I checked, you weren’t a young woman. How do you know it won’t help him? His audience is growing up and getting married, so why can’t he?” you say, a fierceness you usually rely on at work slicing through your nervousness.

“Young lady, you best shut your mouth before you get yourself in more trouble than you’re already in,” Parker seethes.

“You don’t talk to her that way!” Elvis yells, stepping in front of her, pointing in the older man’s face.

Parker looks taken aback, and you wonder if Elvis has ever stood up for himself the way he’s standing up for you now.

Your heart beats in double time, but you gently put your hand on Elvis’ arm to bring it down. His eyes are blazing but they catch yours and you breathe in slowly, hoping he follows your lead. Once he doesn’t look like he’s going to launch himself at Parker, you speak.

“I was going to be around for the foreseeable future anyhow, isn’t that right? Perhaps much longer based on what the doctor said,” you say, miraculously keeping the tremble out of your voice. “It is easier—and more proper—to explain a wife being by his side than a long-term girlfriend living in his house, yes?”

Parker scoffs but doesn’t speak.

“And there’s nothing more young ladies like me want more than weddings and babies, even more so when the groom is the most handsome and charismatic man on the planet, one they want the best for. They will look at pictures of us and imagine themselves as me, I’d bet. And the men will be much less threatened by the family man who served his country and might come around, too,” you continue with fervor, surprised at how easy it is to be assertive when it’s Elvis you are fighting for.

“It doesn’t matter if he is married or has a thousand babies, Mr. Parker. As long as Elvis is alive and keeps doing what he was born to do, they will flock to him because he is an incredibly talented, gorgeous, and kind man. My being by his side won’t change that one little bit. In fact, a wedding will be free publicity for his comeback album, I’d imagine.”

A breath wooshes out of you now your speech is finished. Your fists squeeze to hide the tremor in your hands. Silence hangs heavy and you shift uncomfortably on your feet, but you force yourself to hold Parker’s eyes.

At first, he looks at you with something akin to shock, which quickly morphs into a smirk as he throws a cigar in his mouth, considering your words, perhaps. He holds the silence and your gaze much longer than he should, and you know it’s a show of dominance. You’ve seen a similar look on the men in la famiglia when they seek to intimidate.

It equally makes you want to stand your ground and shirk back into the woodwork. You don’t want him to win, but you also know you must play a role here, and a man like him will want any good idea to seem like his own. You lower your eyes in faux deference.

“Well, Elvis, we may be able to salvage this yet,” Parker purrs, gumming the end of the cigar.

Elvis’ eyes haven’t left you since your speech—you know because you feel them boring into you—but it’s not until you look back up at those depthless blues that you see the unabashed way he’s staring.

He looks at you like he’s smitten. Like you are everything he could ever need. And he’s blushing as if bashful about what you said. His movie star gaze pins you to the spot, with his bedroom eyes at half-mast and his full lips falling open like he’s going to say something.

You would love to be able to say it didn’t make your heart flip over and your knees a little weak to be looked at like this by him; in fact, you are going to chalk it up to your hormones because this is all part of the act, you are sure.

It’s almost painful, the way you tear your eyes away from him to look at your shoes. Suddenly you are winded and exhausted.

He’s just a patient. Maybe even a friend after everything you’ve been through together this past month. A better actor than anyone gives him credit for.

Madone, I will not swoon over a man just because he’s good at pretending he loves me.

Elvis may have acted like a spoiled, sullen child the days prior to arriving back at Graceland, but you’d never in your life seen had a man so entirely consumed with your wellbeing once he knew something was wrong with you. No man had ever treated you with such care.

A swell of emotion sits like a lump in your throat when you think about his proposal. What he’s giving up to save you. To save your baby.

And he’s been so earnest it makes it hard to compartmentalize the fact this arrangement is a quid pro quo and not some romantic folly. Your mind knows this, but your heart is having trouble keeping up. It doesn’t help when he is looking at you like you hung the moon. Like you are precious and beautiful. Like you matter.

You clear your throat and look away, feeling the blush spread across your cheeks. Then, a wave of overwhelm threatens to consume you. Everything in your world has been upended in the last 24 hours, and on top of that, you still have a job to do, yet your body is fighting you every step of the way.

Pregnant.

Your stomach lurches, but you swallow the toast you’d managed to eat earlier back down. Now is not a moment to appear weak by losing your breakfast all over the floor.

Parker is sizing up the both of you, chewing on the end of his cigar like a cow chewing on cud. It makes you want to squirm, yet you force yourself to remain still.

Elvis grips your hand reassuringly, sensing your discomfort. “It’s early, so that means we should do this as soon as possible, yeah?” He says it as if asking, as if the two of you hadn’t already decided it. You can’t quite tell if he’s asking for approval or if he’s smart enough to know it will go over better if the old man thinks it’s his decision. Either way, it seems to work.

“Mmm, yes. Though some are already going to assume the reason based on your impatience,” Parker counters, pointing at your belly.

“Let ‘em think what they want. But I want it public. I want everyone to know who I’m spendin’ the rest of my life with,” Elvis says definitively.

Parker looks at him and narrows his eyes. “Are you sure, my boy? It’s quite the gamble.”

“Didn’t get where we are by always playin’ safe, did we, Colonel?” Elvis counters.

“Hmm, I suppose not,” he replies after another long moment of scrutiny, “and I know you like to charge ahead without looking, but if we give them too much at once, they might be too ravenous. And we must control the narrative.”

Parker looks at your hand. “Get her a pretty ring, then go out and about and be seen. Tell your boys, your family, but no one else. Let them start talking.” His mind starts whirring, you can tell by the gleam in his eye. “We’ll sell an exclusive to the highest bidder, with terms to run the story along with the release of the album. We’ll push the release up, but that means you need to get up to Nashville in the next few days and finish cutting the record. With singles, RCA is going to need…” He pauses to do the math. “At least 11 or 12 more songs to have enough. You think you can do that, son? With everything going on?” The challenge is clear, but you are surprised to hear concern in his voice, too. Elvis is an ill man, after all, despite how gallant he is.

Elvis nods. “Yessir, I’ll get it done.” There isn’t a lick of doubt in his words.

You, however, are worried it’ll be too much for him. It’s a lot of pressure for anyone on a good day, but for Elvis, this could be dangerous. He’s already been pushing himself to the limit with his childish behavior in Florida. You want to say as much, but Elvis must know what you are thinking because he shoots you a stern look before you can get the words out of your mouth.

“Well, then, when you get back, we’ll have a small ceremony at Graceland. A church wedding is out of the question. Safety, timing, you understand,” Parker adds, shooting you a look like he’s sorry when you both know he is anything but.

You swallow and nod, but a snake of disappointment runs through you, nevertheless. You’d been raised to expect a Catholic ceremony but realize it wouldn’t be possible anyway. Elvis isn’t Catholic. In fact, you aren’t sure what religion Elvis is. The fact you don’t know sinks in your gut.

There is so much you don’t know about the man you’re about to marry.

But he’s not Gianni, you think. And he’s willing and able to give my baby the life it deserves.

And that is enough. It has got to be. Arranged marriages still happen every day—this is no different. A love match was never in the cards for you anyway. Not with your father and Gianni in the picture.

He may drive you crazy at times, but at least with Elvis, you and the baby will be safe and cared for.

You’ll just have to quell any expectations he will see you as more than his nurse. Or more than one of the many girls just passing through.

I shouldn’t have kissed him last night.

You blush at the memory. It was a moment of weakness, but you’d been so overcome with gratitude, shock and relief, you’d let your emotions get the best of you. It was too revealing, too vulnerable, considering your roller coaster of emotions recently regarding him.

It hadn’t helped he’d kissed you back with such commitment. Like he truly wanted you.

It scared you. But you’d backed away instantly after accepting his proposal, convincing yourself the look in his eyes was nothing more than friendly and then busied yourself with putting your clothes back into his—your—closet. Then you’d used your very real exhaustion as an excuse to go right to bed after that, ignoring the gnawing feeling of want in your heart.

Elvis would never love a woman like you. A woman who’s been chewed up and spit out by horrible men, a far cry from the actress and model beauties he is used to. He is a good man, helping a woman in need out of the kindness of his heart, out of a need of his own self-preservation, but you best keep reminding yourself that pity and helpfulness is not love.

Lest you get too caught up in the fairytale you are spinning for the world, you remind yourself that once things settle down, arrangements will need to be made for him to get his other needs met.

It wouldn’t be the first or last time a powerful, famous man had dalliances, after all. They would just need to be discreet.

The thought makes your heart ache and tears prick at the back of your eyes, though you instantly try to push away the uncomfortable feeling. You don’t have time or energy to waste on such nonsense.

It takes a moment to realize the men have stopped talking and are looking at you as though waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry, what?” you say, shaking off your thoughts.

“I asked if you had any family or girlfriends that could assist you in preparations? You’ll need to get a dress and have any family travel in to be here after you get back from Nashville,” Parker says with a raised brow.

Your heart sinks. “Oh, no. There’s no one,” you say, trying not to sound as full of regret as you feel. The few friends from nursing school you had weren’t close enough to stand with you, and while you’d love to have your brothers come, there is no way to do so without alerting your father. And you feel absolutely sick at the idea of him being anywhere near you or Elvis.

Elvis looks at you with surprise. You hadn’t told him directly about the issues with Pop, but you assume he at least expected you to have friends. It’s pathetic, to be sure, but this was the reason you’d agreed to work for him in the first place. You are alone in the world.

Swallowing thickly, you hold your head high, even so.

Elvis, thankfully, takes your cue. “I’m sure Patsy would love to help,” he says with a gentle smile, pulling you into his side, his hand resting high on your waist. His double first cousin had been kind to you in the interactions you’ve had, so you suppose she will do.

You nod in response, hyperaware of the warmth of his hand radiating through your dress. It steadies you, tingling the skin beneath, and his closeness is a welcome anchor in this uncharted territory.

“Well, then, by this time next week, you’ll be newlyweds. I trust you’ll be able to continue to take care of Elvis despite your condition, Miss Cannava?” Parker asks under a veil of concern, but the accusation is palpable.

“I have no intention of shirking my duties, Mr. Parker. I want Elvis to be as healthy as possible.”

“Please, call me Colonel,” he says, an edge in his tone that lets you know your refusal to call him Colonel annoys him. But as much as you want to rub it in, you know you need him on your side.

“Of course, Colonel,” you respond, forcing a smile on your face. “And know I’ll continue to do whatever it takes to help Elvis keep doing what he wants to do.”

“I hope that’s true, young lady,” Parker says, “for everyone’s sake.”

You swallow down the threat, adding to your already churning stomach.

April 3rd, 1960

Nashville, TN

“Ready, Elvis?” the engineer up in the booth buzzes in over the com.

“Yeah,” he replies, shooting you a cheeky smile and a waggle of his eyebrows as he steps up to the mic.

You roll your eyes back at him, trying not to show just how much you are appreciating his presence. The secrets you two now share have matured him. You can’t help but worry about the dark circles rimming his eyes, though it is a bit unfair how it somehow only enhances his handsomeness.

Even so, he has been remarkably steadied and attentive these past few days, considering everything going on.

It is a godsend for you. Your nerves are fraying at the edges and more than ever, you want a cigarette, but you know Elvis won’t have it. Considering what he’s doing for you and this baby, you are happy to oblige him on this, despite your cravings.

With everything you’ve gone through in your life, you pride yourself on moving through adversity—for surviving as best you can—without falling apart. But since you returned from Florida, all bets have been off.

Along with putting on the performance of a lifetime in hiding your pregnancy, you’ve also needed to play the gleeful fiancée—a role that hardly feels natural for you, even if your relationship wasn’t a farce. A thousand other girls would be beside themselves to take your place, but for you it’s different. It’s like the ground is constantly moving underneath your feet and you are holding on for dear life, trying to stay upright.

It doesn’t help that your feelings for Elvis are rapidly slipping out of your control. While his poor behavior in Florida tempered them by the time you arrived back in Tennessee, his gallant actions since then, coupled with your exhaustion, have blurred the lines completely. Every touch, every knowing glance, every concerned look sends a cascade of tingles through your body.

You want to blame the pregnancy, you really do, but you aren’t sure you can at this point. Each sliver of attention and affection from him is peeling away the armor you’ve got around your heart, and you don’t have the mental or physical energy to keep rebuilding it.

It’s a recipe for getting your heart broken.

Your fingers twist nervously, still unused to the engagement ring now on your left hand. After telling him about Gianni’s gaudy monstrosity, you’d begged Elvis to keep it simple; he’d reminded you he has a standard to uphold. The compromise was a stunning ring with three large, round stones—a diamond in the middle, with blue sapphires on either side, surrounded by smaller baguette and single cut diamonds in a white gold setting.

You wanted to hate it, solely for its extravagance, but when he had shown you the piece ahead of the “surprise” proposal you both had planned for after dinner last night, you couldn’t drudge up an ounce of dislike. He’d looked so concerned about pleasing you, telling you over and over he could take it back if you didn’t like it, but frankly, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you’d ever laid eyes on. It was elegant and sparkling, and the uniqueness of the sapphires set it apart. It didn’t take much acting to “ooh” and “ahh” when he’d gently placed it on your finger in front of his friends and family, cementing the reality of this strange situation. A flock of butterflies had erupted in your stomach as though he really had proposed, like the proud but blushing smile on his face was really because of his love for you and not an act.

Your ring catches your eye for the millionth time today and the sapphires suddenly remind you of Elvis’ eyes. How deep and endless they seem. There is no stopping the flipping of your heart.

Oh, Madone, it’s just a ring, you chide yourself. But it doesn’t stop you from twisting it around your finger again and again like a touchstone.

After a bit of back and forth, a heavy bass line and rhythmic snapping starts, jerking your attention to Elvis. The stripped-down jazzy sound is immediately recognizable—a Peggy Lee hit from a few years ago. Your brow quirks in surprise.

The slow grin spreading across Elvis’ face is sinful as he sinks into the music.

He wanted you in the studio from the start this time around, citing you as his “good luck charm.” Part of you balked at that. The other part was flattered. After the last two times you’d watched him come alive while performing, something deep inside you awakens right alongside the beat, scaring you in its intensity.

Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care…

He starts singing. It’s quiet and deceptively relaxed, but you know him well enough now to understand he’s a live wire under it all. And that makes it even more enticing when he locks his eyes on yours, singing the words directly to you.

You give me fever…

His voice skitters across your skin, lighting fires as it goes. After the beat drops, his limbs shiver with the drums and the movement feels directly connected to the shiver running down your spine.

And he’s just warming up.

Every line, coupled with the sultry timbre of his voice, drowns you further into the depths of his eyes. They don’t let you go for the entirety of the first take. Your face is flaming, your hands gripping the edge of your seat because it feels like he’s about to eat you alive.

Madre di Dio…you’d let him. Willingly.

He wakes out of the spell he’s seemingly cast partway through the second take. You watch him whistle and blink a few times, coming back to himself. He’s slightly more unsure through the third, but regains his original focus by the fourth, sliding into the take like he’s been singing the song his whole life.

You can’t help but feel this is an intimate moment you shouldn’t be privy to, when he homes in on you once again. You are barely breathing the entire last take, a throbbing pulse consuming your heart along with your belly, something liquid and warm heating the core of you.

When he grits out: When her daddy tried to kill him, she said ‘Daddy, oh don’t you dare’, you hold back a gasp, wanting desperately to squirm in your seat to relieve some of the pressure in your body you don’t have any idea what to do with.

Perhaps it is because the line hits so close to your own experience, but it is as if he’s channeling you. Or channeling into you. You aren’t sure anymore, other that you are combusting from the inside out by the end of the song.

What a lovely way to burn… he repeats again and again, and trails off, finally.

Indeed.

He comes out of his near-trancelike state, bringing you with him and you are suddenly not at all sure you’ll make it through the next few days of recording.

How did you forget what happened last time you were in this room with him? With everything that had happened since, you suppose it’s not that outlandish, but those feelings of want, of need, seep back into your bloodstream just like the last time he sang to you in Miami, and here in this very room just a few weeks ago.

Seems like a lifetime ago…

Forcing yourself to breathe, you think maybe you’ll have a reprieve with the next song, but the bluesy Like a Baby is so sultry it does absolutely nothing to quell the fire in your veins. It doesn’t help he looks positively proud of himself every time he drinks you in, gauging your reaction, with every word he sings to you.

The seductive quality of it all is so overwhelming you need to excuse yourself to the restroom the moment the final take is cut. You clutch your trembling hands, splashing cool water across your rosy cheeks.

Get it together, Lori. He’s just doing his job.

Letting out a shuddering breath, you feel an unusual slickness between your thighs that sends your heartrate skyrocketing.

Oh, God—the baby.

Frantically, you hoist your skirt, pull down your stockings, and examine your underwear for any sign of blood. Panic slices through you until you discover you aren’t bleeding or miscarrying—it’s only a clear, slick discharge you’ve not had before. Something hormonal, no doubt, due to the changes in your body.

Then you realize you are relieved.

Your heart stutters.

You’re not sure you should be relieved. If this pregnancy ended naturally, it would save all of you a heap of trouble. It would mean you might be able to put the memory of Gianni’s cruelty behind you. It would mean Elvis wouldn’t have to settle for you. You could break off the engagement easily enough at this point.

But the thought of losing the baby, of losing Elvis, makes your heart ache so much tears spring to your eyes.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

You can’t want to actually marry Elvis. You barely know him. God knows you don’t feel ready to start a family, especially out of such horrid circumstances.

Then why does the idea of losing it all break your heart?

Sniffling, you look in the mirror and hold back the tears starting to well in your eyes.

It’s just hormones. Your body is just protecting itself and the baby, nothing more, you say in your calm and collected nurse voice. Nothing more.

Because anything more means perhaps your feelings for Elvis have truly gone beyond what you can handle right now.

Scrunching your eyes shut, you pray to understand the purpose of any of this. Why Elvis feels more like home than anywhere else, despite his sometimes infuriating nature. Why he has to be so alluring and charismatic.

Why the thought of being without him is untenable at this point, and not just because of Gianni or the baby.

It’s just a crush—a silly little crush.

No.

He’s all I have, you realize.

Of course, you feel connected to him. Right now, he is consuming your life and drawing out a safe future for the both of you. He is the only one truly in your corner. You may not know him completely, but he has not deserted you or thrown you back to your father. He is deep in this with you.

He could’ve easily fired and discarded you and been right to do so.

But for some reason, he did not.

A shuttering breath makes your chest heave. You can’t bring yourself to examine why that might be and you push away the thing you are most loathe to admit. The thing that makes pretending with him so very difficult, yet so sweet at the same time.

Shaking your head, you wipe your eyes, and straighten your spine. You powder your nose and reapply your lipstick. You put yourself back together, locking up the feelings you are trying so hard to fight.

Looking in the mirror, you see a young woman ready to do what she needs to do to survive.

Ignoring the headache brewing behind your eyes, you paste on a cordial smile and venture back to the studio. The light is on because they are recording, so you sit outside until it flashes off. You stand, brush off your skirt, and reach for the doorknob but it whips open before you can grasp it.

Gasping, your heart leaps in surprise as Elvis fills the doorway, looking a tad frantic.

“Little Bird, are you okay?” he asks, brow furrowed. He grasps your shoulders gently, taking you in as though you might be hurt. He thumbs your chin and looks into your eyes. “You disappeared on me.”

You bite your lip, concealing the smile wanting to appear at the fact he noticed you were gone.

“I was feeling a bit queasy,” you murmur. It’s not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.

The pad of his thumb brushes over your cheek. Your heart thumps and you look down to avoid the intensity of his gaze, lest he see more than you want him to.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel then, darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you brush him off, “And I won’t leave you. You look tired. How are you feeling?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re tryin’ to change the subject, little one,” he muses. His hands find your waist, burning through your dress. “I am tired. Let’s call it quits for the night.”

Your mouth pops open and your eyes narrow with suspicion. “Has hell frozen over? Elvis, you’ve hardly cut three songs, and the Colonel said—”

“I heard the Colonel, but I’m tellin’ ya it’s time to go.” There’s an edge to his voice, warning you his mood is shifting. “And I’m doin’ what I promised by knowin’ my limits.”

“Okay, I’m just surprised is all. I’m used to you fighting me like a stubborn goat,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. You can’t discern if he’s doing this for your sake or his, however. Perhaps it doesn’t matter if it gets the job done.

His cheeks are flushed, so you feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “I suppose you do feel a bit warm,” you concede. “Alright, let’s go get some rest, then.”

He nips at your hand playfully as you bring it down, pulling you closer. The flirtation has you blushing and you resist the urge to giggle, rolling your eyes instead. You can’t help but notice there is no one to perform for but remind yourself he’s just an overly affectionate guy. It means nothing.

“Hey, EP, you comin’?” Charlie yells from inside the room.

“Naw, we’re heading out. I’m tired,” Elvis says, giving you a wink.

Charlie sputters but recovers quickly, gathering the group as Elvis entwines his fingers with yours and heads out to the car.

He doesn’t let you go until you arrive back at the hotel, safe in the room you share.

Something is building between you two. You can feel it in the care of his touch, in the warmth filling your chest and your belly with each beat of your heart. It’s in his eyes as he sits on the edge of the bed, releasing the mask he wears for the rest of the world as you check his vitals.

He is tired and a little feverish. You are proud of him for following through on taking better care of himself, even if you think it is because he is looking out for you and not himself. You give him a quick little smile before turning to put away the blood pressure cuff.

“I wish you’d do that more.”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Smile. I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are when you do it,” he says, low and quiet.

It rumbles through you like thunder, your heart skipping a beat. You pay special attention to clasping your bag closed, unable to look at him but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Elvis—” you whisper.

“I want you to be happy,” he interrupts.

You sigh with the weight of your circumstances pressing on your shoulders, still unable to meet his eyes.

“But I understand why that’s hard right now. I jus’…I-I w-want you to know I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier on ya. Because you deserve to have more of those pretty smiles.”

The clasp of your bag becomes blurry and your throat tight. You clench the leather and force a deep breath. Tilting your head up to blink back the tears, you clear your throat before you can attempt to look at him.

Why does he have to say things like that? It makes it harder to resist the pull you feel towards him. You are teetering on the very edge of being professional and he seems keen to push you over, whether he knows it or not.

“Thank you,” you finally manage out, though so many words linger unsaid on the tip of your tongue. You meet his eyes and fireworks erupt over your skin at the way he looks up at you so openly. The air is sucked out of the room, deathly still, like before a summer thunderstorm. It leaves you buzzing and dizzy.

He stands, slowly, as if not to startle you, and steps forward. With each inch closer he gets, the air shifts, beginning to crackle with electricity. Your heart gallops faster. If he touches you, you are done for, you just know it. The lightning burning bright inside of him has the power to wreak irrevocable havoc on you. And you cannot afford to let your feelings get in the way of your survival because when he breaks your heart, which you know he will, you will have nowhere to go.

You have the baby to think of now. It is easier to sit in the discomfort of your complicated feelings than in the pain of the inevitable heartbreak that will come when he realizes you’re just like any of his other women—you’re replaceable, at least romantically. And God knows you’ve had too much pain in your life related to the whims of men to add more.

The air sizzles as he reaches for you, tempting you to burn with his touch. Part of you wants to burn—the deep heat swirling unbidden low in your belly dares you to let him—but you jump back out of instinct.

“I-I should get ready for bed,” you stutter, racing to your suitcase to grab your nightgown before hightailing it to the bathroom and slamming the door harder than you intended. You think you hear him chuckle as you lean back on the door to catch your breath.

Your body shakes but not out of fear of him. No, it’s like you’ve refused it something vital and it quakes with the need of release. Like the crack of lightning in him would bring the relief of rain, cutting the heat between you.

It doesn’t make sense. You’ve never felt this before, but you know it is dangerous. Lightning is beautiful but deadly, after all.

As you stumble your way through your bedtime routine, you realize in a few short days, the storm of a man out there will be your husband. And one more boundary between you you’ve relied on to keep you on solid ground will be gone.

And one look in the mirror at the exhaustion lining your features, you wonder if it is too late; perhaps the coming storm is inevitable and will tear you to pieces no matter what you do.

There are worse ways to perish than in the arms of Elvis Presley.

The swell of electricity doesn’t go away. It abates some, at times, but your body is hellbent and hyperaware of Elvis’ every move, of every breath he takes.

You desperately want to blame your job—you’re supposed to be observant of him, after all—or the changes in your body because of the baby, but the waves of rolling thunder build under your skin despite the physical space he is trying to give you.

The marathon of a session on Monday does not make things better. You’d hoped it would be a distraction. He needs to be completely focused to bang out at least nine more songs to finish the album. There will be no time for anything but music.

Except you somehow forget music fuels him and makes him glow from the inside out. Instead of dissipating, the storm just builds and builds, like wild thunderheads in the sky. He lives each song so completely, expertly maneuvering through mournful ballads and bouncing pop and raunchy blues like he was born to do. It’s mind-bending and alluring, and every time he draws you in, it feels like he’s singing directly to you, about you.

He's enjoying himself, despite the long hours. Completely in his element. And electricity zings though your body during the playful moans at the end of Such a Night. By the Thrill of Your Love, you think you might combust.

And he knows it, by the sparkle in his eyes and the pull of his defiant but tempting upper lip. He wasn’t offended by the boundary you set last night in the slightest, giving you the physical space you desperately needed unless needed to keep up the ruse of your engagement. But everything he does, every lyric he sings, every twitch of his body, makes you feel as though you are swirling out of control. The more he respects your need for physical space, the more you want him to box you in.

He's doing just that, just not with his body.

You are completely on edge when not absorbed in his performance and technique. God, what an idiot you were to think he wasn’t talented. His stint in Germany only served to strengthen his craft. The world isn’t ready for this new and improved Elvis. Girls will be beside themselves.

You just never thought you’d be one of them.

By the time he gets to the last song, he can’t stave off how tired he’s getting. The marathon session has taken all night and into the dawn. He lets everyone know he’s not entirely convinced he should even sing this Are You Lonesome Tonight? but the Colonel, along with Steve, the RCA rep, press him.

Worry for Elvis’ wellbeing has you voicing your concern, but the men look at you as if you are a silly little girl and not a professional. It takes a moment to remember the only one who really knows your role here is Parker, and despite nearly being asleep on your feet, you are ready to go toe to toe with him. Elvis concedes to his manager, however, before shooting you a look and running his hands down your arms to placate you. The long touch of him distracts you enough to lessen your annoyance for the moment.

This last song is the only time he kicks you out of the room, along with everyone except the musicians, but you manage to sneak into the booth to listen. You can’t see anything through the window because he’s ordered all the lights be turned off, but the result has goosebumps rising all over your body with the emotionally eerie but gentle lilt of his performance.

By the end, tears are streaming unbidden down your cheeks, though you aren’t entirely sure why. You race to wipe your cheeks before the lights pop back on, but he catches your eye through the window and swell of emotion rises again.

You know you are careening quickly towards something beyond your control. The pregnancy is one thing pushing you towards the edge, but this new arrangement with Elvis, the intimacy involved, has your heart racing with both curiosity and fear. It is all so far out of your experience but there is no real choice. It is whatever this new normal is or running for your life.

Being off kilter and filled with feelings you don’t understand is uncomfortable, but you’ll take it versus the alternative, though you can’t help the fear you’ve put Elvis in terrible danger crawling at the edges of your mind.

It’s this that keeps you alert as you all board the bus to head back to Memphis after a quick diner breakfast. Elvis is dying on the vine, the energy of performing all night taking its toll. The darkness around his eyes and the pallor of his skin tells you everything you need to know, but his limbs twitch restlessly all the way home, even when he doses, curled up into you with his head on your shoulder. It’s as if he can’t shut it off even when he is completely drained.

It’s too much for him. Your anxiety builds and builds in the hours it takes to return to Graceland. You are worrying your lips raw between your concern for him and the position you’ve put him in. Guilt swirls in your stomach, making your carsickness worse.

On top of it, your body is desperate to be close to him, as though his presence is a balm to your burdens, but those feelings just bring more confusion. You relish the tickle of his long, soft hair against your jaw and the way his fingers interweave with yours, even in sleep. Despite how ready you were to leave mere days ago, you aren’t quite sure you could do so now without damaging a part of yourself you didn’t know existed.

It frightens you, but the tingle that zings down your arms and into your palm lets you know it is exhilarating, too.

The bus is quiet of its usual boisterousness when it pulls through the gates of Graceland in the early afternoon. It is hard to believe how much everything has changed in a few short days, since the last time you arrived like this.

“Elvis,” you whisper, but he barely stirs. His eyes are closed, and his full lips are open slightly, giving him an air of innocence that tugs at your heart. “Elvis, sweetheart, we’re home.”

Sweetheart? Madone, where did that come from? You blush at your use of the endearment, not having used it since your brothers were little boys and certainly never with a man.

Elvis sputters and his long eyelashes flutter open as he stretches his long arms. “Mmm, ‘sweetheart,’ huh?” he murmurs, his lips turning up in a small, sleepy smile.

“I—you must have dreamed that,” you reply, flustered, but you know your pink cheeks and the way you twist your ring give you away.

He just grins. “You can call me sweetheart all day, Little Bird.” Then, he pulls you down for a sweet, chaste kiss, which surprises you. He tastes of sleep and coffee and chewing gum. The kiss is quick but sends a tremble through you all the same, especially since the bus is nearly empty.

When he pulls back and takes a look at you, his eyes fill with concern. He runs his thumb under your eye, as though he could wipe away the darkness you know is there. “Did you sleep at all, baby?”

You shake your head no, trying to brush him off by getting up to walk away, but he stands and grabs your arm. Pulling you back gently, he wraps his arms around your middle. You give up trying to wiggle away—he’s stronger than you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. If it were any other man, you’d be panicking at the closeness, but it seems you’ve grown used to Elvis’ near constant displays of physical affection.

“I’m fine, Elvis. Let’s go inside.”

“Little one, the doc said you need sleep…”

His vacillation through pet names and endearments should annoy you, but they don’t. Not anymore. You sigh.

“…and you’re gettin’ married tomorrow. You need ta look your best for your husband,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes at his silliness, you try and mask the surprising buzz of excitement running through your limbs at the reality that in a day you will be married to this exasperatingly handsome and talented mess of a man. It’s overwhelming and a little exhilarating, but you can feel exhaustion pulling at you, knowing you’ll be knee deep in preparations in a few short hours.

You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder, but he senses your resignation in the way your body deflates. It’s hard, you realize, to let anyone else take care of you.

“How ‘bout I rest with you? Will you at least try to take a nap then?” If he’s conceding to more rest, you know you must look worse for the wear. But it does the trick.

“Alright, fine. I will rest if you do, too,” you concede.

Being back at Graceland—back home—helps you relax more. No one can get to you or Elvis here. You fear you won’t be able to sleep, but once your head hits the pillow, Elvis safe and resting inches away, you slide into the dreamless dark.

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

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

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

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thelaughtercafe · 11 months ago

Text

Warm Goodbyes

Tea Type: Sweet Tea (Self-indulgent fluff because I finished Shadowbringers and needed an emotional release. Not very specific but I’d say be at the end or past the expansion before reading if you really want to go in fully blind <3)

Potential Triggers: None for this fic, except maybe magical tickling, if that bothers you!

Pairing: Thancred/F!Reader(I read them romantic but it can be platonic). Estinien/Reader is also mentioned, although he's not present. There's a lot of the main characters Ler'ing, with Reader and Ryne as Lee's, with Ryne being totally platonic.

Length: 3.5k+

Summary: In which Ryne and the Warrior bond, shenanigans ensue and fun is had to make their last day together as a family as memorable as possible.

A/N:… I also like cat boys okay? Sue me. I guess Thancred and Estinien just weren’t enough for my heart to attach to.

“Did I ever tell you how the others arrived in the First?”

Your voice was quiet as you and Ryne looked over the Crystarium, the peace of the long sought night making it all the easier to hear you. You both sat on the top of Graha Tia’s favorite lookout, taking in the view.

Ryne shook her head.

“Not from you, no. I’ve heard bits and pieces from the others. Something about getting headaches, hearing the Exarch call for you all and eventually collapsing one after another, right?”

You looked over and nodded, smiling slightly.

“Yes, just so. I know all of us leaving tomorrow is frightening. Thancred most of all. It is not the same, but I thought you should know I do somewhat understand how you feel.”

You turned to look out at the stars, heart stirring in pain as Ryne looked at you curiously, expression gentle.

“You know by now how close Thancred and I are. He is, and always will be my rock. I know I can count on him for anything. So when he suddenly collapsed, the fear and panic that gripped me like a vice-”

You shook your head as your voice cracked. This is why you didn’t talk about it. You always got over-emotional.

“A-After Thancred, the others began to fall too and I could do nothing but watch. Urianger, Y'shtola, Alphinaud…eventually it was only Alisaie and I, and then she too fell into a coma. Yet still I had to keep pressing on. There was a war on the horizon, and as the voice continued calling my resolve was weakening. I finally fell unconscious right at the feet of my greatest enemy, who was prepared to strike me down.”

You shot a smile her way at the worry on her face.

“You needn’t worry. Luckily, my other rock, Estinien Wyrmblood is his name, witnessed my fall and wisely spirited me away from the battlefield. He’s a stoic, quiet man, but he cares. I suppose him and Thancred share that trait. Hiding their feelings I mean.”

You placed your arm around Ryne and sighed.

“…All this to say? The pain you feel in your heart. The worry if everything will turn out alright. If we’ll be okay. If you’ll be okay. They’re all valid and every one of us loves you so much. We’re just as torn up as you are, I assure you. Everyone is trying to be strong for each other, despite the pain we feel and-”

You sniffled, offering her a watery smile.

“I…was never good at that. Despite what I’d have my enemies think, I’m extremely prone to emotion. A complete and utter crybaby. It’s okay if you are too.”

With that, the girl finally broke, hurling herself into your arms and you both sobbed. You hugged her tightly as she gasped into your neck.

“I’m so scared! You’re the only family I’ve known and now I have to find a new one-I-I want you to stay! Or to go with you! I don’t want to be alone again!!”

“Oh Ryne…"

You did your best to gather yourself, feeling your heart break.

"Gods I’m going to miss you so damn much. We all are. I’ll be back to visit I swear it. I’ll tell you all the stupid antics we get up to! Alisaie and Alphinaud’s banter, how many times I can make fun of Thancred’s age before he strangles me, Y'shtola’s good-natured savagery, Urinager’s ramblings…all of it, I promise. What I wouldn’t give to take you with us. I’ll keep looking for a way. I swear it.”

Ryne pulled back with a final sniffle and a bittersweet smile.

“I know you will. You’ve always been so good. So empathetic. Take care of Thancred and the others and make sure they rest enough.”

She looked behind your shoulder after your nod and gasped and you sighed, having an inkling on who it was.

“It’d be 0, by the way, in case that wasn’t clear. Not that I need a particular reason to mess with you. You’re losing your edge if I was able to sneak up on you like that.”

Just like that you rubbed your eyes and snarked.

“You’d have to catch me first.”

A smirk graced your lips as you stretched your arms up to crack your back, relishing in the way Ryne was smiling at your side. That’s what you liked to see.

“Good luck with that in your old-aha hehehey!! Not hehehere!”

You squealed as Thancred struck before you could finish, attacking your vulnerable underarms and making you careen forward and try to protect yourself, only to trap his hands. He continued unabated, wiggling his fingers mercilessly as he taunted you, crouching down at your side as Ryne succumbed to giggles at your plight.

“Oh? Why? Scared Ryne will see how hopelessly ticklish you are? Or mayhap it’s the Exarch you’re worried about given this is his favorite spot. He has that portal in the tower you know…I bet he could see you at any time.”

Your face flamed and you weakly tried to kick him away, finally raising your arms slightly in a desperate attempt to fight back, only for him to change targets and go for your stomach instead, gently pulling you towards him and holding you against him between his legs so he could restrain you easier.

“No of course nhahahat!!”

You didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling.

“You’re still a terrible liar to those you love, you know.”

“T-Trhihicked you once, didn’t I smartass?”

He froze, merely holding you still and you panted, looking to Ryne who was now also catching her breath, a huge grin on her face.

“Did you just curse ?”

She finally got out, breathless from her own laughter with mirth glittering in her irises.

You winced.

“Sorry I didn’t-”

“No need to apologize! I’m just surprised that’s what made you finally curse in front of me is all."

Her smile grew mischievous.

"Though I suppose I can’t blame you with your ticklishness.”

You smirked at that jerking in Thancred’s hold as if to go for her and making her jump back.

“Keep making fun and I’ll see just how ticklish you are.”

“Don’t even think about it!”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I…um… oh! Because I’ll go right to the Exarch!”

She giggled and you groaned and tossed your head back against Thancred’s chest to glare at him half-heartedly.

“… You’re her father. Are you really sure you’re okay with this type of churlish behavior?”

He snickered, quirking an eyebrow down at you.

“Well, if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be fine with you cursing in front of her either so pick your poison.”

You rolled your eyes fondly but after a look at Ryne you smirked.

“…What if I say I’m fine with that?”

Thancred seemed mildly surprised you weren’t putting up a fight until he glanced at her too and warmth filled his eyes.

Ryne was shuffling her feet, a near giddy expression on her face as she held hope in her eyes. She enjoyed it just as you did and given you’d all be parting ways on the morrow the least she deserved was laughter in the safety of her family. She seemed ready for a chase too so you mumbled to Thancred.

“You can get me again later. Let’s team up.”

He nodded and the moment Ryne saw his arms loosen she was off like a shot, carefree laughter leaving her in waves.

“You’ll never catch me alive!”

“Wanna bet?”

You called after her but Thancred and you both gave her a head start to briefly talk strategy. Thancred opted to guard the Crystarium, so she couldn’t get to G'raha Tia without going through him and you would pursue her the usual way. You didn’t account for her to run to the others for aid.

By the time you caught up she was giggling and out of breath, hiding behind Urianger and pleading with Alphinaud with the best case of puppy eyes you’d ever witnessed.

“Ryne, c'mon bringing in outside parties isn’t fair!!”

She stuck her tongue out at you.

“You did it first with Thancred! I’m just evening the playing field!”

“Is this true?”

The look in Urianger’s eyes could only be called amusement and you blushed, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. You couldn’t very well explain your plan with her right there. So you went the childish route.

“She asked for it by making fun of me!”

Urinager raised an eyebrow at that and Alphinaud snickered under his breath.

“That’s not exactly new. Besides, you like it any-”

“Finish that statement Alphie and I swear…”

You fired back without thinking but instantly regretted it as he stepped forward and drew his book threateningly, Refia standing on his shoulder.

“You’re quite certain you want to talk back right now? Shall it be Cure or Lustrate then?”

He raised his hand and you leaped back, seeing Ryne dash off towards the Crystarium and praying Thancred would be quick.

You risked a glance at a confused Urianger, looking between both of you.

“Forgive me my ignorance, but you aren’t injured, correct?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth to respond but Alphinaud beat you to it, a playful grin on his face.

“Ah I understand your confusion, Urinager. No, she isn’t. However through accidental means we discovered casting healing magic on her when she no longer has the need of it…well. It tickles quite ceaselessly for a fair bit. The effects are somewhat lost thanks to my healing kit not being the most effective in comparison to Astrologians or White Mages.”

His eyes glittered with just a touch of sadism as he offered.

“…Care to see for yourself?”

You saw Urianger pondering it and just as you turned to finally get the Hell out of there you heard him speak.

“Mayhap to satiate my curiosity, then. Benefic .”

You tensed up entirely, shoulders shaking as you tried to hold back and just keep moving but your poor body wasn’t having it as you just…crouched to the ground and covered your mouth as the two leisurely strolled over.

“A-Aha-Alphinaud so help me when this sphehell f-finishes-eep-i swear to Hydaelyn-”

Said boy smiled smugly down at you, crouching to your level to pat you on the head.

“Oh come now. Just hush and ride it out, won’t you? Keep taunting me and maybe next I’ll have Urinager cast a Regen- aren’t you curious how long it’d linger given it’s long lasting nature?”

As you desperately shook your head he offered a light laugh as Urianger joined you both to observe you curiously.

“Mayhap I’ll cast another single target heal then hm?"

"How absolutely fascinating.”

Urinager’s voice stopped you from saying something stupid and getting yourself tormented further but it also made you all the more aware of the sensations wracking your body.

Healing aether typically was a cool, numbing sensation as it sought out your wounds before knitting the flesh back together. With no wounds, the healing aether searched for places to heal, growing more vehement as time passed. It was icy and the shock of the cold made the tickling worse as it finally nailed the sweet spot of your ears. You finally broke, giggles and laughs leaving you as you blushed in embarrassment, hugging yourself tightly despite your arms offering 0 protection against magic. The aether wiggled and writhed making you cover your ears and whine.

“This isn’t fhahahair!! Ahahaha!! H-How am I suphohohosed to fight h-h-hehehealing magic I can’t shehehee! U-Urinager plhehehease!”

You tried to mimic Ryne’s puppy dog eyes from earlier and he mercifully snapped out of talking to himself about possibilities and theories to pull the aether back. You panted lightly and he couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

“May I inquire as to if mine heal was indeed more mirth inducing?”

You glared at him before it broke into a smile at his innocent curiosity, nodding tiredly. Still a researcher at heart.

“Mmhmm. Alphinaud’s felt…less cold too which helped. Yours was like ice. No avoiding a sensation that demanding. And it was more exploratory. Alphinaud’s lingered in one area unless he directed it whereas yours seemed to naturally seek out injury.”

He nodded, still clearly wonderstruck.

“I’ll have to experiment more later, if that’s alright with you? Such a reaction is unheard of to even one so experienced as I.”

You blushed but nodded nonetheless. He was still somewhat new to allowing himself to tickle you, so he needed the reassurance you liked it and didn’t mind more than the others. A bit embarrassing as you saw Alphinaud snickered at you but he knew anyway so it was no big deal by now.

“A-Anyway! Thancred and I are actually trying to cheer up Ryne. She looked eager to experience it so we teamed up to get her together. Any chance you could help?”

Urianger shook his head.

“Regrettably I have already pledged my services to young Ryne and I cannot go back on my word.”

You glanced at Alphinaud and he too, shook his head.

“As if! Find Alisaie and Y'shtola to even the playing field if you wish but this is a war . Lus -”

You cut off the spell quickly as you scrambled away and to your feet after tossing powder in his face. A mild irritant but you prayed it would work.

“Ah, Silencing Powder. A typical choice for strategy, but I see thou hast forgotten I am the larger threat.”

Urianger cut off your escape to smile down at you and you cursed inwardly.

“Th-Thancred’s likely already caught her by now! He was guarding the Crystarium!”

You blurted out. Would he kill you later? Maybe. Was it worth it to both give yourself a fighting chance and also maybe see him be wrecked for once? Absolutely.

Urianger relented at that.

“Very well. ‘Tis only fair. Thou would do well to stay out of sight however. We shall not be so merciful should we meet again before the war concludes.”

You smiled nervously as Alphinaud grumbled silently at you behind Urinager and they both left.

Now, the question was to seek out Alisaie and Y'shtola or Ryne and Thancred.

A voice interrupted your pondering

“Are you quite alright my friend? You seem awfully out of breath.”

G'raha’s voice was both reassuring and panic inducing. If he was here that meant Thancred was guarding nothing! You whirled to face the red haired Miqo'te and pasted on a smile.

“J-Just fine, don’t worry! I was just getting a workout in."

Half-truths were the only way for you to not be as obvious when lying to those you cared about and luckily G'raha seemed to buy it.

"Ah I see, how nice! I was actually planning to do a spot of training myself aft-”

He was cut off by a familiar voice.

“Exarch, there you are!”

Ryne’s voice was a cheerful chirp even with Thancred hot on her heels. He seemed slower than usual and seeing the tremble of his gait and lips told you why. Seemed either Alphinaud or Urianger had tried their magic method on him too.

G'raha, bless his heart, cocked his head to the side in innocent curiosity.

“Oh? You need me for something Ryne?”

You opened your mouth to intervene but found abruptly you couldn’t move, let alone speak. Damn it all-Alphinaud slung an arm around your shoulder as Stop kicked in fully. Payback for your trick earlier, no doubt. Brat.

You could do nothing but watch as Ryne reached G'raha Tia and grinned at you before beaming up at him innocently.

“It’s nothing major, well, everyone else knows already so I figured I’d let you know she’s ti-mmph-!”

Thancred’s own affliction had worn off much to your relief, letting him cover Ryne’s mouth and smirk down at her, and as Alphinaud released you and attempted to ready another spell you tackled him to the ground and pinned him. Thank goodness Stop wore off much faster than Slow. Urianger finally rejoined, looking out of breath but he hung back and watched the scene unfold in amusement.

“Don’t even think about it!”

G'raha, for his part, merely looked between both of your pairs in bewilderment.

“…Are you hiding something from me?”

His voice and body language were sad as he looked at you expectantly.

“I know I’m new to the group but I suppose I thought you trusted me just as you do the others.”

Your eyes widened with panic.

“G-G'raha it’s nothing like that. This is…a playful affair. Nothing more.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. Ryne said everyone else already knew.”

He looked positively distraught, ears flat against his head and you let Alphinaud up with a sigh, already blushing in anticipation. But how could you not confess with G'raha looking so sad?

Thancred saw your reddening face and he too released Ryne, speaking up on your behalf. If he waited for you to work up the courage you’d never get the words out.

“She likes being tickled. That’s all. We all tease her about and with it quite often.”

G'raha blinked and then gave a knowing, if fond smile.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought it was something serious. My apologies.”

“You say that as if you already know.”

You mumbled in shock.

G'raha turned and a rare smirk made his eyes narrow in amusement.

“Mm. What of it? You asked me shortly after we met.”

You all stiffened at that, but Thancred most of all.

“Asked? Me?! I don’t remember that at all and trust me when I say I would.”

He had the good sense to look sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“There’s quite a good reason for that. You see at the camp you accidentally had tea containing catrinus…”

“Oh Twelve strike me…”

You buried your face in your hands. Not catrinus. No wonder you didn’t remember. It made Miqo'te quite affectionate and helped them lose their inhibitions. And you had a very low tolerance to it, just like alcohol.

But G'raha wasn’t finished, especially seeing as the other 4 were looking at him so expectantly.

“Catrinus affects us Miqo'tes much like alcohol, but most say it’s more potent as a general rule. She had drank the whole cup, not realizing just how much was within and so I was taking care of her, after getting her an inn room. As I made to leave, she clung to me and nuzzled my arm before asking if I would please tickle her.”

He shrugged attempting to play it off but he was as red as his hair.

“I…indulged her and then I left her to her slumber, tuckered out from my ministrations.”

There was quiet for several long moments and then Thancred and Ryne both burst out laughing and Alphinaud winced on your behalf between snickers of his own. Urianger merely looked at you with fondness in his gaze, though the humor in his eyes said it all.

“Oh my…Estinien…is going to kill you. He thought he was the first to make you ask directly. To hear you have done so willingly…i don’t envy you.”

Thancred came over to pull you into a comforting embrace, allowing you to hide your face in his chest, still snickering

“He’ll likely want to do another duel for who can make you laugh the quickest for the longest, with all 3 of us this time, you know.”

“An intriguing proposition. Given she enjoys it I see no reason to refuse.”

G'raha was collected as ever and you peeked out to find him smiling fondly at you, making you hide again.

“…You’re all mean. Estinien will never hear of this. Do you understand me? Never .”

Between snickers all present mercifully agreed and you pulled back, now somewhat collected to smile sweetly, arm held behind your back with your free hand.

“Now that that’s taken care of I do believe I have some revenge to deliver. Care to help me carry it out now that everyone’s got their mess with me points for the day?”

You turned to smile mischievously up at Thancred who grinned back and wasted no time cutting off his daughter’s exit strategy as she ended up backing right into him where he quickly but gently pinned her arms behind her back.

“You’ve caused quite a lot of mischief today Ryne..ready to experience some yourself?”

She was already giggling as you began poking along her sides and tummy playfully, making the girl curl in on herself. You glanced over your shoulder and motioned for Alphinaud and Urianger to join in.

“I’m quite certain there’s plenty of unexplored spots if you wish to map them out with me in earnest~”

“This isn’t fhahahir!!”

Ryne’s laughter was light and bubbly and made your chest warm with affection.

“Oh? But messing with me is fair game? That’s not how it works!”

The rest of the day was filled with every iota of warmth and love you could cram into it and the goodbye, while full of sorrow was also hopeful. This wouldn’t be goodbye, not if you had anything to say about it.

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savstone-rp · 1 year ago

Text

CHARACTER INFORMATION

full name — Savannah "Sav" Stone

faceclaim — Jessica Rothe

gender & pronouns —cis woman & she/her

sexuality — bisexual

age & birthday — 30 - December 18th, 1994

Zodiac — Sagittarius ☼ , Scorpio ☾, Virgo ↑

occupation — Stylist @ Shearsins & Bartender @ Anchor's Away

hometown — Merrock, ME

neighborhood — Suburbs

length of time in —Local, 30 yrs

Likes: Indie emo pop-punk of the early aughts (think Taking Back Sunday) to radio pop anything upbeat, frozen coffee (any time of year), tattoos, cigarettes (never gave them up), fast food, trash magazines from the checkout (also never gave them up), nights, her Roomba Scoot, narcotics of the upper kind, gossip from her clients, video games, walking, reality tv, coffee table books, leather, blue mason jars, Christmas lights (she's a year rounder), tarot readings, gas stations.

Dislikes: high waisted jeans, sit down restaurants, cleaning, not having cash, blow up decorations, sports and sports fans, early birds, country music, driving, movies made before 1980, chewing tobacco, French Bulldogs, cooking, black coffee, people who use big words in casual conversation, avocados.

~Biographical stuff~

Savannah was born a Holly —she loathes it and always as. Basically, since she could talk no one has actually called her Holly and out of sheer laziness hasn't ever bothered to change it legally. Her mother who she apparently knew a total of a month into having to be a mother was just high on morphine and was in a festive mood.

That said no she has never actually spoken to her birth mother, Cassie. Raised by her dad, Robbie. "Raised" is always the actual question, he was there, he did pay for things she needed until a point. Robbie wanted to party with his friends and continue living his life the way he always knew how. A kid wasn't an inconvenience, when she was old enough he just let her around whatever he had going on - her biggest source of booze and connections to whatever else she wanted to try.

Sav's first drink was probably around ten, and by the time high school hit if she wasn't picking up odd shifts/jobs where she could some cash she was running around with her friends getting into trouble - Drew Barrymore who? - this is where she started learning about cutting hair. Her grandma on Robbie's side, Sissy - and the grey's she rolled around with needed some cuts so it became a nice little income at the time.

Robbie- always the ladies man has another kid. A son, a similar situation he's on the birth certificate and some kind of a 'father' figure. Maybe. (This will be a wc, so UTP how that went) - Sav's got a good comrade-type relationship with him.

She was always popular - be it because she had 'the party' house or what, not really such a big deal in their little community but she was runner up for prom queen, where the nasty little rumor that hasn't fully shaken with the locals that she pushed her bestie Olivia down the stairs after she lost - the problem is Olivia did get hurt, like bad. Ended up paralyzed. (But she did get into an Ivy and has like 3 kids now, living in some cool big city - Sav's definitely a little a lot jealous) - just has turned out to be a formative experience that has haunted her ever since.

There was never a time she even considered college and after graduation- that she struggled to reach as is grade-wise - started at the cosmetology school in Portland, ME. Got her certificate and started cutting hair (for real, not just her grandma and the senior citizens around town) - she's been at Shearsins since 2019. February 2024 she left Merrock again— a whim of move. Having met some film industry people down in New Orleans on one of the Benefactor's town trips during Mardi Gras, where debauchery masked emotional turmoil and a growing dependence on substance issues— Sav decided to take up the offers on three Independent films where her and one other did the hair in their various locations. Cut to today, she's back.

~Random stuff~

Hardened by life perhaps, Sav's never been 'friendly'. Depending on the day she's a bit of a wild card. She'll say it like it is and does have a sense of humor about things just, she's also easily ticked off. Get her juiced she's much friendlier.

She's dabbled with saving to open her own salon one day but is also completely not serious enough at the moment and also way pessimistic on whether she actually could.

Currently house hopping - as she dipped town without notice, 10 months and she absolutely lost her apartment she rented out of the old converted house.

Not reeeally an animal person, she does feed the strays that come around. It's a problem.

She's only really put together and does her make up when working at the salon. Mostly always in jeans some docs and a t shirt, she will appear a little more stylish and an effort made while working at the salon.

She never owned a car and likely never will - so she says. She really hates being in one let alone controlling one.

~possible connections~

step-brother - robbie had another kid, that relationship utp (temp name Alex) Sav and him have a good one (unless we come up with something else)

long time hometown friends/acquaintances- obvi

clients - spill too much tea? get a bad haircut? i want it.

co-workers - (technically used to work at Shearsins, looking to go back but would have that previous connection for sure) & Anchor's Away where she bartends part time whenever.

Portland ME/Cosmetology school folk (skies the limit lol) - she lived there while attending cosmetology school. Could play around with ideas for sure.

exes - i'm sure there's been some, happy to work out details.

enemies - she's got em I'm sure.

ride or die - I do love me this connection

film people that she worked with- quick stints, indie films. Sav did the hair. (only last couple months)

Legit down for anything, if there’s ideas toss them out. On dash chem is my favorite and just love winging it too! I’ll fill this all out more as time goes on for sure!

#musings #tw: drug mention #tw: violence mention

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shytastemakerthing · 7 months ago

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Hello hello! Can I request a romantic Twisted Wonderland matchup if matchups are open? My pronouns are she/her, my personality type is ISFP. I’m 154cm, I wear glasses, have medium length dark brown hair and eyes, I always have winged liner, and my style is generally hyperfeminine.

I'm quiet, reserved and introverted around strangers but witty, sarcastic, stubborn and kind of smug around those I’m comfortable with. I also ramble and infodump a lot too, especially about things I like (although I’m lowkey kinda insecure about how much I talk, I’ve been sheltered from having a social life in my youth so whenever there’s someone new to talk to I just yap away until they’re annoyed ;-;).

I am smart but at the same time a dumbass. I’m very dense (if you like me, you have to grab my shoulders and explicitly say “hey, I have a crush on you” cause I don’t catch social cues a lot of the time) and very affectionate with my friends. I often tease those I care about (with love ofc 💕).

As for things I enjoy, I like anime, video games, drawing, makeup, cosplay, and baking.

My only request is to NOT be matched any first or second years. Thank you in advance :)

Hello! Thank you so much for your patience while I start getting all of the requests going! It has been a very busy several weeks with the end of the semester rolling around.

On that note, I do hope that you like your match-up and if there is anything else you would like to see, feel free and let me know!

Enjoy!

Tw: None

I match you with.........

Idia Shroud

Even with being limited to the third years, he stood out the most when I read over your request. Lilia was rather close, but in the end, Idia Shroud, Mr. gloomy himself, is our winner!

There is a chance that you could have met him over one of the games that the both of you shared (much like how he met Lilia, despite not knowing that it was Lilia), as there was really no way to be able to meet him over wise. The man never leaves his room and the moment that he catches word that Ortho is bringing someone over, that door is getting slammed shut and there is no way that it is opening.

Now, after encountering each other in the real world, and though it was a little hard actually getting used to your company, there is a chance that he got used to you a lot faster than he would anyone else given how similar the both of you are both in actions and hobbies.

Speaking of these hobbies and likes of yours, the fastest way to get his hair to burn that lovely shade of pink is to do one of your famous cosplays of a recent character he is really into

Really-

It's a game at this point

See how fast you can get his hair pink

When it came to a confession, he literally did it over a game. Knowing your lack of social cues and his inability to actually articulate the words he wants to say in such a fashion without fumbling like a buffoon (and he really did not want to use his tablet for something like this)

Look, he went all out on this, cause he actually developed a game just for this moment. A limited play that could only be done once, and yes, he was terrified about how you would react

Thankfully, he had absolutely nothing to worry about

Literally, how did he manage this?

He does not know but he will not complain

You get first hand experience about how smug this man can be. All it takes is for him to get real into a gaming session with some of those online and our little ball of anxiety does a 180 on that personality... it's both funny and endearing

Just watch for when his hair starts burning orange, he would never forgive himself if you were hurt

Please infodump with this man, I beg of you. The both of you will just be going off for literal hours with this, but for the both of you, it is time well spent

Overall, his favorite part of the day, now, is having you in the room with him (he made you your own set up this man is so attached), and both of you are just spending time with one another. Please don't ever leave this man, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

Thank you for your request!!

#twisted wonderland #twst #matchups #shy writes #shy answers #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twst imagines #idia shroud #twst idia shroud

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your-sweet-cookies · 1 year ago

Note

[food]

- For Niragi and Kukki.

seggsual tension!

[food] - Sender watches receiver eating something in a particular manner.

Going out for ice cream was always a really fun activity to do during summer, since it both served as a cute date activity and a good opportunity for Kukki to cool herself with some nice cold sweetness! Plus, this always reminded her of her first date with Niragi, so it was always pleasing.

The two stopped on a bench to enjoy their ice creams. Niragi got a cone, while Kukki decided to go for a vanilla ice cream covered in chocolate on a stick, which she was now eating first the chocolate coat off of. "Why are you eating it like that? The vanilla part will end up melting until you finish peeling off all the chocolate." The brunette commented while he watched her.

"Oh, my dear wild bobcat, there's a reason to my technique! If I let the chocolate coat melt, it would end up breaking easier when I bite into the ice cream and I risk having bits of gooey chocolate fall onto me and on the ground. If I eat it while it's still solid, I minimize the losses." Kukki exclaimed calmly, with the expression of a wise man talking about the means of reaching inner peace and not about ice cream. "If you say so... But either way, you still run the risk of getting covered in ice cream, because the vanilla part will melt in the meanwhile. Look, it's already starting to drip!" Niragi pointed out to her.

Indeed, while she ate the outer coat, the inner cream started to melt faster than she expected, because of the intense summer sun. Yet Kukki didn't lose her cool. With a sneaky grin, she then looked at him and said. "No worries! I already know what I have to do to not lose any of it!" With that, she then took the melty ice cream into her mouth, almost to the whole length of the ice cream, all while looking at Niragi. The man's mind was now wandering to 'other places' and his imagination was replacing that ice cream stick with something else...

But his little 'delightful sight' didn't last too long, because Kukki then pulled the ice cream out of her mouth, no more runny bits on it. "See? That way I licked off all the melted part in just one quick swift move! No causalities!" The silver haired smiled at him and started licking her lips from any ice cream that could've remained on them, before biting down onto the rest of the vanilla ice cream on the stick and repeating the process of taking it into her mouth, then pulling it out every time it started becoming runny again.

"Aren't you going to finish yours though? You were talking about my ice cream melting, but you are leaving yours to turn into a slushy in a cone." Kukki chuckled, also noticing the slight redness in his cheeks. By now the man was literally staring at her with the utmost attention and everything around him became blank. A little longer and Niragi would've probably started drooling watching her 'savor' that ice cream.

"Huh? Ah, yeah... I'll be finishing mine soon, don't worry!" He cleared his throat and averted his eyes away from her. "You know what, you can keep eating that kind of ice cream in the order you prefer. I won't comment on it further..." He continued, trying his best to calm himself down. "Maybe you are right, eating the coat first is the best strategy..." But inside his mind, all Niragi could think about was how later on she was going to be sucking like that something other than a mere frozen dessert...

#aib rp #aib roleplay #alice in borderland roleplay #alice in borderland rp #aib oc #aib oc rp #anonymous #rp with kukki

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songofsaraneth · 1 year ago

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okay now you, top 5 rote characters? 👀

ohoho OKAY here we go

5. while none individually are in my top single characters i actually do wanna give this place to the Dragons, collectively, because they were why i picked up the universe in the first place. I was working my way through books with dragons in them and actually read the Rain Wilds books first (because someone told me they worked standalone) and while I think this series is the weakest in the RotE universe now that I've read the rest, it got me interested enough in the worldbuilding to go back to the start and see what was up with Tintaglia and those serpents and ships and whatnot. I like that they're haughty and entitled and annoying. RotE dragons are much more like cats in personality than anything else, which was a nice change from the themes i was getting in the other books i worked through of 1. beasts to be dominated or 2. wise and mysteriously good/kind with very little complexity to that despite being, you know, huge apex predators.

4. KETTRICKEN. god im OBSESSED with the mountain kingdom and their concept of ruling... my love my queen my Sacrifice... uhg I love how much she grows from angry angsty girl into a monarch. and she never lets go of her mountain concept of rulership despite spending way more of her life in the duchies surrounded by people who'd love for her to step back and do less. but what really makes her my personal blorbo is the way she comforts Fitz when no one else is paying enough to attention to realize how close to breakdown he is at any given point. Hugging him. Drugging him to make sure he has a good nights sleep. Like she was the ONLY ONE who TRULY wept with him for Nighteyes and understood what that loss meant to him, not just because she had her own bond with Nighteyes but knew Fitz's went so much deeper than hers and that he wouldn't take the space to grieve that loss when needed on his own. Kettricken just... cares. about people, about the kingdom, about everything, and does what she can for them.

3-2-1 im cheating im cheating im cheating and my top 3 are of course a 3-way-tie of THE trio, Nighteyes, the Fool, and Fitz. honestly how could they not be 😭 i love them in part because i love what they each are to the other... like everyone else from Fitz's early life hurt him in terrible ways (Burrich, Chade, Verity, Shrewd... fuck man) but he imprinted on them anyway, because he was a sad scared lonely child who had just been ripped away from everything he knew. as soon as he got 1 singular crumb of kindness from anyone he fell into full devotion even when what they had him do was to his own detriment, again and again. And it's the person who is SUPPOSED to be the one pushing him into certain paths, watching him fall into prophecy and die who, counter to what you'd think, is not that kind of person. The Fool is the one who is most painfully aware of everything Fitz can do and how to point him towards it but he always somehow gives Fitz a choice about it, not an order or demand. And Nighteyes bonds to Fitz and is the one true, solid bond where he's not trying to use Fitz for anything, he just wants them to both Be. And selflessly gives up the kind of life they could have had together, with other wolves or other witted, for Fitz's sake. It's funny that these two relationships for Fitz are almost opposite in a way... he and Nighteyes are so entwined that even other Witted are disturbed by how close they are, and how little they have reserved for themselves. Meanwhile Fitz spends so many books trying to keep the Fool at arm's length despite how powerfully they are drawn back to each other again and again. Fitz throws himself into Nighteyes as a way to escape himself, but can't bear to let himself get too close to the Fool because he's afraid of what that bond would mean with another human, especially one he perceives as male. And it takes him sooooooo many books to finally get past that but thas growth baby! Anyway that difference makes it funny to me how Nighteyes/the Fool comparatively very quickly settle into a comfortable dynamic. Nighteyes accepts the Fool as part of their Pack, the Fool accepts Nighteyes as an integral part of Fitz, and they get on with keeping each other warm in the woods while trying to manage Fitz's much more complicated problems. uhg they are all my own Beloved.

#realm of the elderlings #realm of the elderlings spoilers #left out some THOTS on the last trilogy because i know too many people reading them right now ehehe #but YEAH #fitz is my poor little meow meow but they are all my blorbos #i did Not proofread this and its after midngiht and my dry eyes are miserable about reading text on screen now so thats my excuse #fitzchivalry farseer #the fool #nighteyes #kettricken #beloved #replies #ramblings #god getting sad and mad again at hap's response to nighteyes dying. i mean it was understandable. but it HURTS #give your dad a HUG cry for your PET THAT WAS THERE YOUR WHOLE LIFE

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doctor-tessa-adler-gray · 1 year ago

Text

Part 1

2022: Task Force 141

Summary: Tessa “Red” Adler has been with the task force for a while now and is on a mission to take out a dangerous arms dealer.

Warnings: Sexual references

“Got eyes on the hotel door?” Price’s voice comes through her earpiece and she hums in focus, positioning herself to have a good shot.

“Got it. Awaiting orders.”

“I’ve got a good view here.” Soap comments quietly and Tessa glances over at where he’s laying near her, making sure no one sneaks up on them. At the moment he’s looking at her ass.

“Focus, Soap.” She smirks, flipping the cover off of the scope for a moment to check her positioning. Closing it again she tucks the gun into her shoulder and rests her cheek on it.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He checks his watch for the millionth time and sighs. “He was supposed to leave an hour and twenty minutes ago.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience. You just have a ridiculous amount of it.”

“Well when you’re as old as I am you build it up.” Her voice quiets as someone steps through the doors.

“Negative, not our target.” Price answers her silent question and she takes a deep breath.

“How old are you again?”

“Chronologically or year wise?”

“There’s a difference?”

“Mhm. Which number do you want?”

Soap hesitates for a moment. “Year wise…”

“It’s 2022 so… 172 give or take a year or two.” There’s silence for a long time as he and everyone else listening over the headset processes what she just said.

“Chronologically?” Gaz dares to ask and she thinks for a moment, tapping her finger against the gun in a counting gesture.

“Somewhere around eight/eight-fifty.”

“You’re eight hundred years old?” Soap gawks, making sure to stay quiet.

“‘ts what I said.”

He scoots closer to her and pulls his mic away from his face. “You didn’t tell me that before we slept together!” He whispers and she tilts her head to look at him, making sure to keep the rifle steady.

“I didn’t hear you complaining. Quite the opposite, if I remember right.” He stares at her and she smiles sweetly, “what does it matter? I’m over eighteen and I’ve got some experience. Just lay down and take it.”

“Do I need to come up there and separate you two?” Price’s tone is a mixed of irritated and amused.

“No, sir.” Soap answers.

“Good. Keep the line clear.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here comes our target.”

Tessa shifts her body to prepare for the recoil, uncrossing her ankles, and flipping the cap off of the scope, looking through it. The door opens and someone steps out.

“Not him. Next one. Grey suit, black hair.”

The next man that steps through fits the description and she moves her finger to the trigger, ready to fire when he gives the order.

“That’s him. If you have a shot, take it.” Price orders.

“Got him.” Tessa answers, squeezing the trigger.

The man turns around and she freezes, eyes widening and finger pulling back to release the trigger. Soap notices her sudden change in demeanor and frowns. “Take the shot.” He repeats. She doesn’t move an inch, watching the man through the scope.

He’s got the same eyes she’s looked into so many times throughout the years. The same nose and ears. His hair is the length they both always agreed on, only dark black and no mutton chops this time. She blinks and takes a shaky breath, both excitement and horror filling her head.

The sunlight reflects off of the scope and catches his attention, making him look up at her. Soap swears and shoves her head down to try and get her out of sight so she can figure herself out.

He grabs the rifle from her hands, aims, and takes the shot. Tess peeks over the roof ledge and the man glances at the broken car window next to him and waves at the rooftop. She can just hear the teasing tone of “missed me” from back when he was first training her in sniping for their own missions.

“What the hell was that?” Price demands.

“I don’t know what happened. She froze.” Soap nudges her shoulder and frowns at the barely visible smile on her face. “I’m going to get her out of here.”

“Do that. We’re going to try and fix this mess. Ghost.”

“On it.” The man assures and Soap pulls Tessa to her feet.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the van.”

“My rifle-“

“I got it.” He scoops it up and over his shoulder. “Come on.” He sets a hand on her shoulder and leads her to the stairwell.

•

“What the hell happened out there?” Price demands, standing in front of Tessa.

“I don’t know. I just froze.” She sighs and rests her head in her hands.

“You had a shot and you botched it! We lost a dangerous ARMS DEALER because of this.” He takes a deep breath and sighs, calming himself down some. “You know no one trusted you when you were sent to us. I went out on a limb to vouch for you and now you’re starting to freeze? You never freeze!”

She looks up at him and sighs. “I just had a flashback. I don’t know what triggered it and I’m not really sure what happened. I just know that my heart was suddenly beating way to fast and I couldn’t move.”

“Does this have anything to do with why they sent you?” His tone softens and he sighs. “They’re giving you a chance to start over.”

“What they’re giving me is a chance to be thrown into a suicide mission over and over again because I’ll just ‘respawn’ and am good to go.” She crosses her arms. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Believe me. I know how this goes. I know how this ends for me.”

“You can’t bail out on us now. You’re stuck with us, and not in a ‘government making you’ way. You’ve been here a few years now. The 141 won’t be the same if you leave so you’re staying here.”

“I know.” She mumbles, watching as the kitchen door swings open and Soap walks in.

“Go get some rest. Flashbacks can be exhausting.” Price pats her shoulder before leaving the room, done scolding her about the incident.

#soap mactavish #john price #captain price #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #gaz cod #oc #call of duty #modern warfare fanfiction #time travel

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cee-grice · 2 years ago

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Imperial and Coronation for a side character you wanna give more attention to!

thanks for the ask!! hm I'm gonna talk about Quil's mom, Mela d'Alisso, whom I love and am also so sorry for :'DD life did not deal her an easy hand when it comes to her child, I'll tell you that much

IMPERIAL - How powerful is your OC? Physically, mentally, emotionally? Are they satisfied with the amount of power they have, or are they actively trying to seek more of it? What lengths would they go to obtain power?

Mela comes from a long line of mages that specialize in charm magic (basically manipulating people's minds, emotions, that sort of thing), and is a highly accomplished mage as well. As head of the d'Alisso family, one of the more influencial magician households in the country, she also has a lot of power when it comes to social standing (had even more of it before the Incident but we're not gonna talk about it rn). Despite all that, she feels incredibly powerless, because no matter what she did, she couldn't keep her child safe, and still can't. What's all that power for when she can't protect who she cares for the most? But she also realizes it's not about any kind of power that she could have. She can't control what Quil does, how he chooses to lead his life; she can only hope it doesn't end in tragedy. In light of that, every other kind of power becomes close to meaningless for her, so no, she doesn't actively seek it out. Emotionally-wise, though, oh man, she's strong, but god knows she's tired x))

CORONATION - How does your OC feel about responsibility? How do they handle (or avoid) it?

She's been in a position of responsibility from quite early on, as the title of her family's head passed onto her at a rather early age. She's never shied away from it, though, and if she doesn't necessarily enjoy it at times, she does what needs to be done efficiently and without complaints. Then, of course, she became a mother and got that kind of responsibility to handle. Not the easiest type, either, as Quil's affliction proved him to be a difficult child to keep alive lollll. Again, though, she dealt with it marvelously and was always extremely attentive. Really, she did far better than most would have in her situation, I'd say, which does make me feel really bad for her :'))) woman cannot catch a break

#ask game #thanks for the ask again!!#she's honestly one of my fav side characters #poor woman she doesn't deserve the torment quil puts her thru rip #wwcc wip #c: mela

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project1939 · 6 months ago

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200 Films of 1952

Film number 164: Sky Full of Moon

Release date: Dec 12th, 1952

Studio: MGM

Genre: western/comedy

Director: Norman Foster

Producer: Sidney Franklin

Actors: Carleton Carpenter, Keenan Wynn, Jan Sterling

Plot Summary: Harley is a naive cowboy who comes to Las Vegas with a dream of riding in the rodeo. Needing to raise the entrance fees, he tries his hand at the slot machines, finding fast luck with them and with a pretty blonde. But how long will his luck last?

My Rating (out of five stars): ***½

This is the kind of simple unassuming film I often like, so I wasn't surprised to find myself appreciating its charms. The plot was relatively low stakes, and it gently meandered around like tumbleweed. It’s the kind of film that spends more time with characters than with action. The ending completely floored me- it was a choice almost no Hollywood films of this era ever made, and I loved that. It’s a little B film worth watching. (significant spoilers!)

The Good:

Carleton Carpenter as Harley. He was charming, adorable, and he didn’t overplay the “hick” stereotype. He humanized it. By the end, I recognized how much I cared about his character. Evidently, Carpenter was bisexual in real life- yay for a fellow bi!

Jan Sterling. I loved her more than the romantic lead in Flesh and Fury, and she was so good in this! There’s something uniquely appealing about her that’s hard to put a finger on. She isn’t just an empty vapid bombshell- I always sense an edge under her, a toughness brought on by some pain. She’s worldly-wise and jaded, and I’d never doubt her ability to keep surviving.

This was a simple story told over the span of just a few days. That’s kinda my jam.

The location shooting in Las Vegas was fascinating. The way it appeared in 1952 couldn’t be more different than today. It didn’t even really look like a city- it was a town! It felt quaint, not “sin city.” Even the main bar/establishment with slot machines was nothing like a casino today- it looked more like the pachinko parlor in Green Tea Over Rice.

There was a lot of nice location shooting in general.

The ending! (Spoilers!!) I was absolutely stunned that the movie ended this way. We spent the entire length of it with Harley and Dixie- they were clearly the romantic couple. When Dixie left and didn’t come running back at the last minute, I was so impressed. There were clearly hints that the two of them might not have been a good match, but I was still shocked. There was also no other girl in the background to suggest Harley would be with someone again soon. Then add in the fact that Harley fails at his first rodeo attempt, and it was miles away from a happy ending. The bittersweet part was his unshaken determination to try again.

We never fully learn who Dixie is. Keenan Wynn’s character alludes to the fact that Harley never got the full story on her, but the audience is kept in the dark as well. That’s another unusual choice for a Hollywood film in that era, and I'm all here for it.

The Bad:

The opening/closing song was a little too much. It was kind of like the singing narrator in Rancho Notorious. It also could have been a television sit-com theme song, setting up the story for the audience. “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...” “Here’s a story of a lovely lady...” “Come and listen to my story ‘bout a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed...”

There was some pretty bad rear projection- especially when Harley was at the rodeo or when he and Dixie were driving. But come on, this was not a picture with a lavish budget. I get it.

It still broke my heart that Harley’s rodeo dream remained only a dream at the end. I have hope for him, though!

#1952 movies #100 films of 1952 #jan sterling #carleton carpenter #200 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 film 164

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casspurrjoybell-28 · 1 year ago

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Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 2a

*Warning Adult Content*

The Proposal - Part 1 - Kao

When I come to, I'm in a dimly lit room, sprawled across a giant bed covered in blood-red sheets.

Zacan's room.

Above the bed is a giant canopy made of dark silk, with ornately carved furniture throughout the room.

Even a chandelier lit with several candles hangs from the ceiling.

So this is how the Alpha gets to live, while us Omegas are restricted to the basement of the pack house, crammed into small rooms where several of us have to sleep on the floor together.

We don't even get beds.

I've had to stuff an old sheet with straw for Oliver and myself.

Maybe I'd take advantage of the luxury if it weren't for the fact that I'm in the bed of a man I hate who also took my son away from me.

I look down at myself, realizing in horror that I've been stripped of my old clothes and put in a practically translucent red button-up top and shorts to match.

All I really have covered are my nether regions, which have been left undisturbed in my undergarments.

Whoever chose the clothes obviously didn't know my measurements, in addition to having horrible taste.

The shirt and top are way too short for my tall figure.

I guess Alphas are used to Omegas being tiny height-wise but I'm 5'10".

I could probably pass for a short Beta if it weren't for my small, slim frame, delicate features and curves.

Curse my Omega genes.

Disregarding this, I get off the bed and immediately try the door.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge.

There are no windows, either.

So I move on to searching around for a possible weapon I can use but there's nothing.

I put a hand to my chest, praying to the Moon Goddess that Oliver is safe.

If Zacan believes that he is his son, he won't harm him.

At least I hope.

With anxious sigh, I go over to look at myself in the floor-length mirror in the corner.

I don't like what I see.

I'm draped in Zacan's color.

The color of all the blood he's spilled.

I feel like it's a statement that he thinks he can control me.

But I'll have to keep them on unless I want to wait here naked.

Not that they're much better than that.

When the door opens, I jump, startled.

Zacan comes in, filling the room with his awful aura.

"Where's Oliver?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

"He's fine."

"That's not an answer."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to talk back to an Alpha?" he glares, walking towards me.

I back up, not wanting him anywhere close to me.

"They did. But I don't like to listen," I bite back.

"Evidently. But if you did you'd be so much more pleasant, wouldn't you?"

"My job isn't to be pleasant for you. Give me my son."

I'm getting angry now, if I wasn't already before.

I've had enough of his bullshit.

No sooner have the words left my mouth is he slamming me against the wall, a large clawed hand wrapping around my neck.

The back of my head throbs from the impact and I wince, blinking a few times to try and regain my senses.

His bright green eyes are boring into mine, glowing as his wolf simmers below the surface.

"If you want to see him again, then you'll drop the attitude and very carefully consider what I'm about to say," he growls.

I swallow nervously, keeping my mouth shut as I nod to avoid causing any more problems.

I've always had a bad temper but now's not the time to let it show. He takes his hand off my neck once it's clear I've calmed.

"As you're already aware, I know that Oliver is my son. My advisors have all agreed on the matter and I won't hear any more of your stories. Which is why I have a proposal for you," his eyes are alight with strange fervor, which tells me that I won't like this one bit.

"I don't want Oliver to live without his mother, either. So become my mate. My Luna. You, Oliver and I can be a family. You will be treated far better than the other Omegas, and Oliver will be provided with the proper resources to become the Alpha he is destined to be as my heir."

Oh, he's got to be joking.

Become his what?

He's insane if he thinks I'll agree to this... to letting him basically take me prisoner and brainwash my son.

"What if I refuse?" I test the waters.

Distaste becomes evident on the alpha's face.

"The way I see it, he's a child and you're an Omega. Neither of your opinions matter."

"Then why did you call it a proposal?" I glower back at him.

"You ungrateful bitch," he snaps.

"Proposals from your Alpha aren't to be rejected. Any Omega would be thanking their lucky stars to be in your position."

I look at him in disbelief.

"I'm supposed to feel lucky? Being forced to be your mate after what you did to me?"

He scoffs in annoyance like what I'm referring to is completely insignificant.

"The bottom line is, Omega, if you want to see your son again, you'll accept my offer. Think of your position. I have all the power here. I can make it so you never see him again if that's what you want."

My insides spark with panic at his words.

"No," I shake my head, my voice pleading. "N-No. Please no."

"Then say yes," he demands cruelly.

"Fine. Yes. Just let me have him," I nearly start to cry but I hold back the tears with all my might.

I'm acting weak enough as it is.

He smiles, pleased as if he's accomplished something of merit rather than threatening someone into doing what he wants.

"Then it is done," I look down, a horrible feeling spreading in my chest.

Everything... all the effort I put into hiding who Oliver's true father is, was all for naught.

It's over now.

We'll live our lives more controlled and trapped than we already were.

He tells me to rest while I can, promising that I'll get to see Oliver tomorrow when we do the mating ceremony.

Zacan has pack matters to deal with right now, so he cannot stay the night with me, which I am oh so thankful for.

I'm sure I won't be able to sleep but I really couldn't if I had to lie next to him.

As he opens the door and before he can leave, I call out a question...

"Why me?" I ask. "Why me, all those years ago and why now?"

He's silent for a moment, thinking over his answer before he says...

"Because you are exquisite. And you are mine."

I watch as a golden band is fastened around my wrist, designed to complement the one Zacan wears.

The whole pack has gathered to watch our mating ceremony and I want to hide in a hole.

I spot Oliver in the crowd, watching with wide, bewildered eyes.

This must be a lot for him.

The priest recites the laws of our union but I don't bother to listen. All

I can think about is the fact that I'm being forced to be the Luna of the man I hate most in the world.

The man that I'd like to see six feet under, if that was possible.

A dark, evil part of me whispers to kill him.

But I know I would never have to courage to.

I guess I'm all bark and no bite.

How pathetic.

Once our vows are done, Zacan leads me down the aisle and everyone stares at us in uncertainty.

It's not like I know what's going on any more than they do.

Some give me judging looks.

I try to ignore them.

They don't realize I'd trade places with them in an instant if I could.

At the banquet, I'm finally able to talk to Oliver.

I take my boy into my arms and he buries his face in my stomach.

"Mama," he cries, hugging me so tight it hurts.

He's already getting so strong.

"I'm here, baby. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

He shakes his head, sniffling and relief floods through me.

"I was just scared. I never had to sleep without you before," he whimpers.

"I'm sorry, Oli. I'm so sorry," I stroke his hair, rocking him gently in my hold.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he asks hopefully, looking up at me with swollen eyes, presumably from crying all night.

I wish I could say yes.

But it's the night of the mating ceremony.

I'll have to spend it with Zacan, which I am dreading more than anything.

"Soon, okay? I'll talk to Alpha Zacan," I try to reassure him but he looks anything but.

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captainstevenjohnstonme · 1 year ago

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Genie.

My name is Brett Cline and I owned and managed Sydney's biggest and best antique store.

I was recently divorced after 30 years of marriage and to keep my mind occupied out of work hours I have been going to a lot of markets and garage sale in search of something interesting to sell in my store.

On Friday night while I was online I had a quick check to see if there were any garage sales nearby in the morning close to my home and to my delight I found one just a few suburbs away at Rose Bay.

I like garage sales because most people don't know the value of what they are selling.

Every now and than I come across a precious piece of jewelry a family heirloom or a valuable work of art that have the potential to be worth thousands of dollars for a measly few bucks.

I arrive precisely at 8am and already there are half a dozen other bargain hunters searching through the tables for kids clothes, plants and bric a brac all the usual stuff found at a garage sale but my eyes are focused on finding the gold at the end of the rainbow.

After ten minutes of fruitless searching I am just about to give up when I notice the neck of a green bottle poking out from behind an old heater.

As soon as I pick up the bottle my heart starts racing because it looks exactly like the bottle on that old TV show 'I Dream Of Jeannie.'

The bottle stands around 40 centimetres and is inlayed with fake rubies, sapphire and is decorated with gold leaf.

There is no price label so I ask the lady holding the sale and she tells me that I can have it for five dollars which I gladly hand over.

I am not expecting to make much of a profit but you never know.

One mans junk is another mans treasure.

An hour later I arrive at my antique store aptly named 'Artisan Treasures' and after parking out back I enter the store and am pleased to see quite a few people inside including my business partner Casey Lamborne.

Casey is 28 years old with shoulder length blonde hair and a bright personality who has a passion for antiques and history.

We first met at university back in the 1990's and discovered that we shared similar interests so we become friends and eventually business partners.

'Hello Brett what have you got there" Casey enquires.

'Just an old glass bottle I bought at a garage sale this morning, It caught my attention and hopefully we can sell it for $200 or more.'

'Give me a look' Casey demands because she is an expert on antique bottles and such.

After a close examination with a small loupe' Casey whispers excitedly 'Brett I believe that this bottle is thousands of years old, made from pure jade with Ruby, sapphire and diamonds and of course the gold leaf.'

I grab the bottle from Casey and gave it the once over including the base 'Holy shit there is something inscribed here, can you hand me you loupe?'

'Yes it is just what I thought, it says 'MADE IN CHINA'.

'What' Casey screams 'Give it back to me, you are mistaken.'

When Casey notices that I have been pulling her leg she smiles 'Why you bastard I could kill you.'

When we both settle down I tell Casey that I think it would be wise to get another expert opinion so I take a pic of the bottle and attach it to an email that I send to my old professor of History & Antiquities at Sydney University Dr Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred sends me a text saying that he is excited by my find and will drop by in an hour or so plus he informs me that it would be wise to put the bottle in the safe for safe keeping.

Unlike his namesake from Batman who is a calm efficient butler the Alfred Pennyworth who just walked into my establishment is a bundle of nerves who always dresses like a relic from the 19th century but he most importantly is a great friend and colleague.

'So tell me more about this bottle of yours Brett.'

'It caught my eye at a garage sale so I bought it as a curio piece but Casey thinks that it could fetch a lot of money.'

At the mention of her name Casey joins the conversation 'i believe that the bottle is made from pure jade with precious gem inlays and originated from the Bulgarian, Hungary region around the beginning of the 9th century.'

'I need to go guys, my wife wants me to get something for dinner ' Alfred says 'And Maggie likes to eat at 6 o'clock sharp.'

'Yep, I need to do some shopping, so come on Alfred I will walk you to your car.'

After Casey and Alfred leave I close the store for the day and go back into the office and open the safe and grab the bottle.

I place it on my desk where I begin to rub at the dirt and grime that has built up over the years.

Remembering Alfred's comment about a genie I chuckle as I remove the jade stopper and peak inside but the bottle is empty.

Noticing a stubborn spot on the neck I spit on the polishing cloth and gave it a little rub but the spot refuses to budge so I rub a little harder and to my surprise the bottle begins to shake and a huge orange cloud emerges and begins to spin fast like a mini tornado.

I wave my hands around and soon the cloud dissipates leaving behind a short balding guy wearing bright purple pantaloons with a matching turban.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before the genie proclaims 'I am Blat master genie from Bucharest and I was born in the year 1146 but pray tell me where am I and where are all of your goats and sheep?'

I can't help but laugh at the absurd comment 'My name is Brett the owner of this fine establishment and sorry but I don't own any livestock and today is the 10th October 2023 oh and you are currently in Sydney Australia.'

'I have never heard of such a place' Blat responds 'But first off please me tell that you have a larder full of chicken livers and pigs feet?

'Sorry again but I can make you a vegemite sandwich or perhaps you would rather cheese on toast?'

Thinking that Blat wouldn't appreciate the taste of the Australian delicacy I quickly make the toasties which the genie eats gleefully.

'Very nice, now to business what is your first wish?

I am suddenly very nervous because I don't want to waste any of my wishes.

''So Blat how many wishes do I get exactly?

Blat who reminds me of Mario from those video games ponders my question 'Well Brett if you will be my master for eternity I will grant you three wishes per year but I warn you Brett that if you promise to be my master and then break that vow I will destroy you.'

'But enough talk, what do you wish for?'

I want to tell Blat that I was really hoping for a young blonde genie like the one in that old TV show plus I don't really want to be anyone's master but a shitload of wishes is hard to resist 'Okay Blat I will be your master and I am hungry so i will make us some more cheese toasties while I think about my wish.'

A few minutes later I return to the office carrying a tray of food and coffee to see Blat waving a small gold wand around 'It has been a while since I have granted any wishes so permit me time to hone my skills.'

'Um Blat in what year did you actually grant your last wish?'

I can see Blat thinking inside his head 'I believe that it was in the year 1399 so six hundred years or so.'

The two us eat and drink in silence and as we do I take in the shabby looking office and say 'Blat my first wish is for a brand new office with all of the mod cons.'

Blat stands wiping his hands on his pantaloons and begins waving the wand around but nothing happens and even when he tries again and again but still the office is unchanged.

Not only do I get an old man genie but a genie who can't grant wishes 'Blat try crossing your arms and blinking or if you wriggle your nose it might kick start your wish granting skills.'

Blat gives me a murderous look 'Please master I am just a bit rusty 'tis all.'

Then I am brought back to reality but a loud tapping on the front door and when I stick my head out of the office I see Casey beckoning me.

I wave back telling her to give me a minute 'Quick Blat back in your bottle I have a visitor.'

Blat shakes his head 'Master I have lost all of my powers so I can't return to my bottle until I have rectified the issue.

'Fucking great' I mutter in dismay.

THE END.

Part Two coming soon.

#genie #magic #fantasy #australia #antique's #bucharest #wishes

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tinalbion · 2 years ago

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So I was recently introduced to the Joy Ride movies and ooh boy, I am mad I never watched these sooner. So I am officially writing for Rusty Nail, the main villain in all 3 films, though I much prefer 2 & 3 actor-wise. When I write for him, I'm mainly picturing Mark Gibbon's role. That man is SO fine, I SWEAR. So yeah, this is just testing the waters to see if writing for Rusty works for me, and I already have ideas for future things! I really enjoy it and I hope you guys do, too!

“Lone Star Sleepover”

The Sassy Cat Saga Part 1

Rusty Nail x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Honestly a lot fluffier than I expected

Length: 4.7k

The road trip you decided to take on your own had been going perfectly fine, you nodded along to the music that blasted on the radio, and you didn’t have a care in the world as you drove at high speed down the empty interstate. It was your first time taking a trip on your own since it just so happened to work out that way, but you figured you could do it. You were a young adult and had the need to travel, the funds were there, you just had to get up and go.

So go, you did.

As you neared closer toward a town as the sky darkened, you heard several loud pops and your steering went completely off the road as you screamed, your hands clutched the wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. You caught your breath as you pulled off toward the side of the road and just took a second to pull yourself together, your eyes darted to the street and saw that no one was driving in or out right now.

“Shit,” you groaned. You quickly pulled out your cell phone and saw you got no coverage. “Double shit.”

With an annoyed grunt, you slid out from the driver seat and looked down at the damage, and oh boy, that was a lot of damage. Large slivers stuck out from your left side tires, possibly nails or some sort of spikes, and you leaned against the hood as you tried not to scream. You had a spare tire, sure, but not two. You sighed and grabbed everything important that you had to carry on your person, you locked up the car, and trekked your way up the road as you stared down at the printed-out directions from Google Maps. Your eyes stung from how badly the wind picked up from the coming storm, of course, it would start storming. How lucky could you get in one day?

The bright neon lights up the road signaled to you that you were close to something, and you hoped it would be full of people who could help, or at least point you in the right direction. When you were mere blocks away from salvation, the rain came pouring down on you and soaked you to the bone almost immediately, to which you just sighed irritably and continued on your way. You figured your map was useless now.

Rusty had been frequenting a local diner on his stops through town as of late, so when you came bursting in from the rain looking as disheveled as a cat that crawled its way from the gutter, it made for an interesting evening for everyone. He had to admit, there was something rather interesting about you as you kept your head held high with your hair clinging to your face, but you didn't seem bothered by the rain in the slightest, at least that's how you tried to play it off as. You didn't seem in distress, not to the others that frequented the diner, but Rusty could see it in your eyes; you needed help. He overheard you talking to the waitress asking to use a phone, what your name was, and what issues you were having. The woman that held the pot of stale coffee was always worn out but kind to those who showed it in return, so when she saw how desperate you needed the phone, she pointed toward the back and told you to bang the side of it at least once to make sure it doesn’t cut out in the middle of the call.

When you were standing there as you listened for the other line of the phone to ring, you looked across the diner mostly to people watch, and then you saw him. You didn't know who this man was but he was big, burly, and had a pair of the sweetest lips that were barely visible under that hat he was wearing. You didn't notice much, but you could easily make out his stubble, his thick hair that poked out from beneath the hat, but you were soon brought back to reality as the other end of the line stirred and you lost all track of what you were thinking about.

Your car had some sort of damage to the tires, but you could easily stay in it overnight if it came down to it, but when you described the situation to the tow company, they said they could take it into a ship in the morning, but they suggested you go to the nearest motel for the night and they could tow it there at the very least. So that's what you planned and you called for a tow truck to take you to the closest motel, which they'd meet you at the diner in a half an hour. With a defeated sigh, you shook your head and hung up the phone.

The man's eyes were on you yet you had no clue, but he watched you as you shuffled back toward the exit and thanked the waitress for allowing you to use the phone.

The walk back to the car was miserable for you as the rain still came down pretty hard, but it didn't matter as you slid into the front seat and just sat there for a little while. You weren't sure how long you sat there and stared out of the windshield, but your hand reached down toward the mic of the CB Radio that had been installed in your car.

There wasn't much you expected from using it, but it was installed as a precaution in case something like this happened, so your finger clicked the button and you cleared your throat before speaking out.

"Hello, uh, could anyone out there help me? I'm at the truck stop diner just a few miles from 97C, Highland Valley Road, can anyone tell me if there's a motel nearby? My car broke down and I'm not from here…" You released your finger from the button and hoped for the best as you leaned your head against the wheel.

A few moments passed until a deep voice rumbled through the channel. "The Lone Star, about a few miles northwest from there," he replied coolly.

Damn, you liked this voice a lot, you could listen to it all night, but now wasn't the time for that, so you thanked him and tried to think of conversation starters to keep him on the line for a little longer.

"I didn't catch your name," you squeaked out.

"You can call me Rusty Nail. What do I call you?"

You laugh to yourself and hold the talkie up to your mouth for a moment. "Call me… Sassy Cat, I suppose."

Rusty laughed and shook his head as his thumb clicked the button again. "Probably very fitting," he teased, "but I'll be on, like I usually am, if you need me."

"I'd appreciate that, thanks, Rusty."

You waited for the tow truck to arrive, you finally catch a lift up to the Lone Star Motel and climb in for the night. Room 13. Rusty kept an ear out for you and even made a short journey from the spot where you broke down to the hotel to check on you. He normally didn't do this, he was usually busy with running loads of stock and not having to worry about someone losing their car, but this week was a bit of a slow one, so why not make sure you made your way safely.

There you were walking along the sidewalk of the motel rooms as his big rig pulled in close, cold cans of drinks in your hands as you seemed to look exhausted. You went up to your car and leaned on the hood, hoping that whatever help you'd get would come early enough so you could be on your merry way. The radio in your car sounded loud and full of static, which scared you half to death as you jumped up from the hood. You scrambled inside and set your armful of stuff down.

"Hello?"

"Sassy Cat, is that you?" A familiar voice called out.

"Rusty?"

"Ahh there she is, was just calling in to check on ya, makin' sure you arrived safe and sound."

The thought of him worrying about you made you blush. "Oh, well that's awful sweet of you, yeah I made it alright, Rusty. Isn't it late? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm doin' just fine, little miss. What about you? Shouldn't you be resting up?"

Truth be told, yes, you should have been, but sleeping in motels alone wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do. "Uhh, can you keep a secret?" You asked shyly.

"Of course."

You bit your bottom lip and laughed at yourself, you laughed at rhe ridiculousness that was you feeling at ease with a stranger as you chatted over a CB Radio. "I've never driven this far by myself before, I don't like being in these sorts of places alone, so it's hard to sleep."

Rusty sat back in his seat and watched you in the distance as you looked to be lost in thought, you looked tired, but he could tell that you were telling the truth. He leaned forward and clicked the button again. "Well, I could offer you an idea. I could stay on this channel with you and if you need to say anything, you go right on and say it. I can listen."

That was an awfully sweet gesture for a stranger to give, but you figured they drove long distances all the time, having someone to talk to wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for guys like this. You liked the offer, you liked that he meant it and didn't pity you, at least you thought he didn't.

"Rusty, you don't have to do that, that's honestly so kind-"

"Look, no worries there, kitty cat, a girl shouldn't be alone in strange places."

Your mind swam to treacherous waters, how could you even THINK of asking what you were about to ask. Your safety should have been your number one concern while taking a road trip alone, then being stuck in the middle of nowhere, but something in your gut whispered to abandon all sense and just take the leap.

"Rusty, could I ask you a favor… and please don't take this the wrong way, I just…" your sentence trailed off and you didn't know how to necessarily ask such a favor. This wasn't something you did often, let alone at all.

"Whattaya need?" There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, you could tell.

"Umm, I know it's a lot to ask from a stranger, but could you meet up with me here? Maybe just sit with me for a few hours if you aren't doing anything? I'm just… I'm not used to being alone…" you repeated.

Rusty heard you right, right? He didn't really know how to respond to that nor was he familiar with meeting up with strangers outside of working hours. How he'd handle this, he had no damn idea. But once your voice came back over the radio, he snapped back and blinked.

"I'm sorry, that was a rude question, I didn't mean to be weird or anything, I just really like the company and you seem like a decent guy what with helping me out earlier." You rambled you always rambled when you were nervous or you thought you made things uncomfortable, it happened often, you rambling.

It was almost comforting when you heard his laughter over the radio channel.

"Well, I've never done nothin' like this before so uh, I suppose I could help you out. You've been mighty kind, not many people see us truckers as kind folk so they don't show it to us. Let me meet you there, then, Sassy Cat."

"Thanks, Rusty. See you soon."

You placed the radio down and your heart was beating so quickly while you tried to calm yourself in the driver's seat. You reached out for one of the drinks and opened it as you stared out through the windshield of the car. 'Why did I do that? What if he's some sort of weirdo? What if he thinks I'M the weirdo?' You were so wrapped up in worrying that you barely saw the large black semi pull into the lot a while later.

That was probably him, you were shaking in the car as your eyes were glued to the scene of the door swinging open and watched as a large man wearing hefty boots stepped out. The hat he wore was pulled down to hide his face from the harsh lights of the neon signs overhead. You recognized the jacket he wore and the scruff of his facial hair, that was the same guy you were admiring at the diner! Oh that made you feel much better, you knew that he at least looked pretty decent for someone you didn't know.

You stepped out of the car and watched as his face lifted and looked directly at you, you swore you could feel his eyes burn a hole right through you. Christ, he was so large!

When you finally walked to meet him halfway, you held out your hand despite it shaking so damn much. "You must be Rusty Nail, a pleasure to meet you." You seemed chipper and excited, but deep down you were nervous as all hell.

He looked down at you with a smirk and grabbed your hand more gently than you expected. "Sassy Cat, I presume. You're cuter than I expected."

It was forward, but just enough to give your ego a little boost, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it coming from his mouth. "Well, thank you, Rusty. If it's not too forward, I think the same about you." Damn, your face was turning bright red from how hot it felt, you'd bet money on it.

"So uh, I brought along a six pack in my cab if that's your fancy," he began as he reached back and rubbed his neck. "Not sure how I can assist, but I'm here ta' help if you need it."

"That's very kind, thanks for the offer. I got some drinks from the vending machine. You want a non-alcoholic beverage?"

Rusty smirked beneath his hat. "Well, sure, I'll take you up on that. You wanna stand down here by your car, or wherever you're comfortable, darlin'."

You almost melted to the sidewalk from that nickname alone, damn, you'd love to hear him say your actual name some time.

"Well, if you're okay with it, the room would be fine. I can grab more drinks and maybe get some takeout? I just can't sleep, this is a hell of a lot on my plate."

"Don't be embarrassed," Rusty said as he picked up on your body language, "not everyone can handle stuff like that, it's normal. But I'd be honored to accompany you this fine evenin', just lead the way."

You nodded and swallowed the lump forming in your throat. It was all just a lot to manage for you, just chatting with him would calm your nerves, at least you hoped it did. So you beckoned for him to follow you as you began to walk toward your room, you heard his heavy footfalls behind you, following obediently.

You got to your room and unlocked it with your hand still shaking, you glided off to the side to allow the giant man step through, and then closed the door eagerly behind him and locked the door. He shifted around the room and found a seat on one of the chairs as you nestled onto the corner of the bed with your legs crossed.

"So uh, again I'm sorry I even dragged you out here like this, it was a spur of the moment sorta thing…" you looked down and played with your sleeves on the night shirt you wore.

Rusty couldn't help but chuckle at how much you apologized. "S'alright, Y/N, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"I appreciate- Wait, how'd you know my name?"

"You were at the diner, and it was easy to overhear you talkin' to Jolene about your predicament. Didn't mean to eavesdrop, just happens when you're in the line of business I'm in, ya learn to listen."

You should have felt more odd about it, at least you were convincing yourself that you should, but you honestly didn't. This was a man who was aware, who paid attention, you were thankful he did to be honest. He noticed how quiet you'd been and it weighed heavy on him.

"I hope that didn't scare you none, I'm sorry about that, it's a bad habit you just sorta pick up."

"No, no, it doesn't bother me at all, just surprised that anyone paid attention at all. I was an outsider there, so it was just nice to have someone give some sort of damn about my plight." You laughed and scratched at your hair, which was still drying from your unexpected shower.

Rusty couldn't help but smile at that as he shifted in the chair and grabbed the drink you gave him. "Well, of course, we all look out for one another here, most times anyway."

With a long stretch as you raised your hands above your head, you almost felt comfortable enough to feel the grasp of sleep barely nipping at your heels. Rusty took notice of that too and watched you in silence for a moment.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Better, much more relaxed, thanks to you."

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs. "You want me to get goin'? I don't wanna be a bother."

"No!" You cried out, "please, not yet. If you're able to, please stay." It was embarrassing how you were acting right now and for your sake, you should have stopped and let the man leave, but something deep within you wanted him to stay put.

He stared at you under the brim of his cap, the shadows hid his expression rather well and the lighting in the room was already pretty poor as it was, but it allowed him to remain mysterious as he sat there across from you and tried to read you. He didn't know what to expect or why you were so terrified to remain alone, so much to the point you'd want a complete stranger around you.

"I won't bore you with details," you began softly, "but I'm just going through a lot and I thought this trip would help me. It's only been one shitshow after another."

Rusty thought for a moment and then stood up from his chair, he weaved around the poorly placed table as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to the side. He sat down beside you on the bed while the mattress sunk from his weight, which caused you to tumble into him unexpectedly. You let out a surprised gasp as his hand caught you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"You alright?"

You looked up and could see more of him from this angle, you never expected his eyes to be so bright. "Y-yeah, I'm good." You wanted to simply disappear under his touch as you felt his fingers flex around your arm as he sat you back up.

"You need to relax, I reckon," he pointed out as he reached behind him and grabbed the top blanket and draped it over you. "So how about you lay here and I keep watch? You'll pass out sooner or later, and neither of us wants that to happen behind the wheel, now do we?"

The urge to snuggle against him was so irresistible that you didn't even know your body went ahead and did it without you giving a second thought about it, but he didn't retract his hand from your shoulder, yet he stopped you.

"Hold on," he instructed as he stood from his spot and walked to the other side of the mattress, then he laid down onto the bed and patted the spot next to him.

You obeyed and crawled into the bed beside him, the smell of tobacco and damp earth wafted through your nose, and even a hint of his cologne. You felt at ease in his presence, as if you were under some sort of spell that he had you trapped in, but it was one you never wanted to get out of.

"Better?" He grumbled in his husky voice.

"Much." Your hand instinctively grabbed at his flannel to secure your position, and your head rested gently beside his chest. "I don't know how I got to this point of my evening, but I can't ever repay you for this, Rusty."

"We can work that out later," he replied teasingly. "For now, You should rest, Y/N, don't worry so much."

His hand stroked your hair and the sound of his breathing lulled you into a quick sleep. You barely had time to register what the hell got you to this point, but right now, you didn't care.

For Rusty, this was an odd evening to say the very least, but he had an attractive little thing next to him in a bed, what more could he want? Your soft skin touched his and it felt as if his skin was aflame from the mere contact of it, your hair felt even softer between his fingers as he caressed it, but what really threw him off was your immediate draw to him. Your hands were gripping his shirt tightly as if to keep him there, your face pressed against his chest as if you'd known him your whole life and trusted him with it.

Whatever the hell got him here, he hoped he wouldn't lose consciousness and wake up to find it one cruel joke, but he'd live here in this moment, even if for a little while. Rusty didn't even notice his eyes grow heavy, but the darkness enveloped him and he was asleep.

* -

You were sure you dreamt that entire evening up, you were absolutely sure of it. But when you woke up with the sun streaming brightly through the windows of the motel room, you stirred and tried to move around so you could block the sun from your face, but a large arm draped around your waist stopped you from moving too far. Your eyes peeked over and saw the large trucker you met yesterday was sleeping rather peacefully next to you, his breaths deep and steady as his arm didn't move from your waist. He looked rather peaceful sleeping here, you wanted to reach out and just touch his face to admire him, but you didn't know this man and you surely didn't want to have him live through a rude wakeup call.

Instead, you nestled back against him and pulled the blanket further over you, the desire to wake up wasn’t really there despite how urgent your need was just mere hours ago. You blinked and let out a low sigh as you moved slightly, wanting to gain more warmth against him before you both had to wake up and go your separate ways. But as much as that seemed like the most likely possibility, the thought of it made you feel oddly sad. You enjoyed his company and just how sweet he was, hell, he was so respectful and never tried to do anything that made you uncomfortable.

You hoped you would see each other again.

As you were lost in thought, you felt the mattress stir and you gently opened one eye, noticing Rusty had slowly sat up to stretch his arms. You took in just how large he was and how toned he'd been, you'd taken in the marks he had peeking through

beneath his and thought of all the ways he could have gotten them. He seemed like a simple, sweet guy, so maybe you didn't want to know how he got them right away. But it didn't help that your eyes wandered way too far for too long, your imagination wandered, and you didn't even notice him looking over his shoulder and staring down at you.

"Mornin'," he greeted with a deeper voice than usual. "You sleep okay?"

You couldn’t find your voice this early but you gave him a short nod in response while you stretched out your body. His eyes glazed over your form a bit longer than he anticipated but you didn’t mind, though you made a noise of protest when he stood up from the bed. All Rusty did was chuckle as he walked to your side of the bed and patted your head softly.

“Just hittin’ the bathroom, kitty cat, don’t you worry,” he grinned. He left you there to your own devices and came back almost as quickly as he’d gone, then as if he could read your mind, he slid in next to you again and found his place beneath the covers. He couldn't admit to it just yet, but he really found this to be the most comforted he's been in a long time.

You didn't say anything yet, you just wanted to revel in the moment for as long as you could until the harshness of reality bit you both.

"Didn't you need to get towed this mornin'?" Rusty asked suddenly, his voice lowered to almost a hushed tone.

"Mhm, yeah, I did, but I think I'm liking this too much to care right now." Your eyes were closed because if you looked at him with his face being so close, you weren't sure how the moment would play out, and that scared the hell out of you.

That comment made Rusty smile, and your face seemed to be so at peace with the expression you wore, his hand reached out and brushed your wild stray hairs from your face. He was begging to feel all too familiar now, and he couldn't stop himself when he leaned forward, nose to nose with you.

"Y/N," he said softly, and you opened your eyes, "could I do somethin' stupid right now?"

You nodded, afraid to speak in case it broke the wonder of the moment.

Rusty closed the small space between you both and captured your lips in his, his hand half cupping your face and half pulling your chin forward so he could deepen the kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed again and you pushed against him now, your hands found themselves wrapped in his salt and pepper hair, and the way he was kissing you only made you hum in approval against his mouth.

It was hard for him to let go, he knew he shouldn't have done this with someone who he only knew by first name, but you were pulling him in with every moment you looked at him. His large hands roamed down your arms and slid against your stomach as he lifted the hem of your shirt slowly, your back arched in an instinctive response, which was so inviting.

He swallowed the moan against his mouth and pulled you further against him, and you could feel the invitation of his excitement against your leg at this angle, was it bad that you wanted to feel it elsewhere so soon?

Rusty was making you feel anxious in the best way, his stubble tickled your chin as his kisses lowered from your mouth to your neck. You wouldn't have stopped him from continuing to assault you, but to your dismay, he pulled away and stared down at you, breathless.

"Y/N, as much as I'd love to continue this with you, and trust me I do, I'm not that kinda guy. I hope you understand, I'm a bit old-fashioned albeit the favor I did for you…" He brushed more of your hair out of your face and could easily see the disappointment. "So lemme ask you this, would you do ME a favor?"

You cooked your head a bit in confusion. "Sure, Rusty, anything."

His smile grew. "Allow me to take you on a proper date, then."

Your face must have visibly turned red because Rusty laughed at your reaction. "I'd love that, Rusty," you replied.

"Good," he beamed at your response and how genuinely you seemed to be excited.

"Well, don't I need to know your name if I'm going on a date?"

All he could do was laugh and shake his head. "In due time, kitty cat, in due time."

#tinalbion writings #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail headcanons #rusty nail imagine #rusty nail x reader #afab reader #slasher writings #slashers x reader #slashers imagine #slashers headcanons #joy ride movies #joy ride 2 dead ahead #joy ride 3 roadkill #rusty nail x you

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writer-akihiko · 4 years ago

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Could I get the dorm leader’s reactions to a fem!S/O who punched a student because he was being creepy towards her?

Dorm Leaders + MC Punching Someone

Credits to my precious wife The Miss; I have never punched someone and my wife teaches and does self defense and martial arts, so she helped me out greatly. Work is cut for length purposes.

Warnings: creepy behaviour from NPC students, protective behaviour dorm leaders

Malleus Draconia

Malleus knew it was moments after your last class finished, so why were you late?

Sebek quickly noticed his master, and said that the teacher called for you

He wasted no time rushing to the teacher's room, only for it to be empty…

"I have nothing to do with you!"

He heard your voice, rushing to the source. You were in the gardens with another annoying student…

Unknowingly, he gathered his magic at his fingertips, ready to attack

CRACK!

Your lover witnessed you sucker punch that student right in the nose

What was this? That child of man was deadlier than he thought… and the thought thrilled him

The student scurried away, with a bleeding nose and that was when Malleus revealed himself

He watched as his YN shifted to her timid self once more. Maybe she was embarrassed?

"I witnessed all of it," He said. "My little treasure… you're quite the silent fierce type aren't you?"

You accepted Malleus taking you in his arms. You snuggled into his shoulders, knowing no one was there. "Only to people who annoy me. I'd never do that to you."

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, enjoying this moment with you. "As much as I witnessed how capable you were YN, if those punches ever graze your skin, I might not hesitate to skin them…"

You smacked Malleus playfully. "I swear, I can be safe."

Malleus overall was thrilled every time you showed any display of your strength, although you were quite docile with him so he'd have to sneak around to see you pummel some worthless students

Riddle Rosehearts

He was severely upset that your absence caused his unbirthday party to be delayed

He asked for Ace and Deuce to search for you, but he himself found you near the school labs

Oh, how his blood boiled seeing that it was a Heartsyabul student approaching you…

He was about to approach the student and call him off for his rude remarks, but he didn't expect what was coming next

You punched the much taller student in the stomach, and the student hurled over in pain

"You… You-!"

"I dare you to continue that sentence…" Riddle said, stepping out and standing next to you

He shamelessly brought your knuckles to his lips, "Did you bruise your knuckles my Queen?"

The student tried to run away, but Riddle was quicker to respond

"Off With Your Head."

He would certainly have fun punishing the ignorant student later, but for now he had to tend to you

"I never knew you could do that," He admitted, escorting you back to the location of the unbirthday party. "I'm quite surprised."

You shook your head, feeling a bit shy that Riddle of all people was praising you so. "It's self defense. I'm not one to go around punching people…"

Riddle after having knowledge of your skills wouldn't be afraid to leave you alone, and he'd have his little fantasy of you teaching him some physical defense… With you two being close… He can dream can't he?

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim had you seated next to him during one of Scarabia's parties, enjoying the festivities

Jamil had come over, asking you to excuse your boyfriend as other guests had arrived and were awaiting the host of the events

Kalim greeted the guests, although his voice was slightly strained since all he could think about was getting back to you

As he let the guests roam around, he took one glance at where you were supposed to be…

And saw the view of someone chatting you up…

Well, as the charismatic host he is, he has to put this student in his place-

CRASH!

The student fell onto a small table of snacks after you punched that student from getting too close

"I said," You poured the remaining of your drink on his head. "I don't want to be bothered."

Kalim's jaw dropped at the entire scene, and in his heart he might've been a little afraid of you

As he turned to Jamil, Jamil shook his head. "I didn't teach her that."

After the other servants cleaned the mess up, Kalim approach you cautiously. Giving you a hug from behind

He was relieved feeling your shoulders relax, but he had to make sure…

"YN… Would you punch me if I ever upset you?"

You quickly faced Kalim, holding his face in your hands, shaking your head. "No I won't. That guy was just being annoying…" You gave him a cheeky peck on his jaw. "And how could I ruin this adorable face?"

Kalim didn't mind you punching whoever annoyed you, but he was very impressed that it had gotten to the point where if someone bothered you, Kalim would be on the sidelines cheering at you

Azul Ashengrotto

As the dorm leader who runs the Mostro Lounge, Azul and the Leech twins would be typically busy with the constant rush of customers

In this instance he was grateful that you were willing to help out with the rush hours

He had you and the twins busy taking orders as he organised his contracts

There shouldn't be any troublesome patrons, or that's what he thought…

"Hey! Pretty waitress, why don't you sit with us? I'll buy you a drink!" Some sleazy customer hollered at you

You tried to ignore the students, continuing your duties. Floyd and Jade were too busy to kick them out, but you thought that they could be dealt with later…

From his view, Azul could only watch in disgust as the student dared to pull you to him

Before the student could put his hands on you, you swiped a clean punch across his face

The moment that happened, Azul couldn't help but laugh

The clique of the knocked out student scrambled out, intimidated by the creepy auras the twins emitted, and the way the Lounge owner's eyes pierced their core

You held your wrist in your hand, shaking off the slight pain. Jade and Floyd quickly escorted you to Azul's office area, and Jade even gave you a pat on the head for a job well done

Azul couldn't help himself from hugging you tight, showering you in praises and kissing your hand even though you insisted you weren't seriously injured

"My Angelfish… I should hire you for the Lounge's security instead," He joked, sitting next to you. "Actually… Do as you like! I get quite entertained with that fiery look in your eyes when you do get a hit or two!"

Long story short, you instead worked closely with Azul as a pseudo-bodyguard

Idia Shroud

Idia enjoyed his quiet time, especially quiet time with you, Ortho and video games

He didn't usually go outside, but he would always walk with you after class since you always calmed his nerves

Sometimes, if he was bold enough, he'd ask to walk hand in hand with you after a school day

At times, you could hear the gossip of some students, particularly about Idia…

On one day, Idia had to meet up with Azul due to club work. You decided to meet up with Ortho while waiting for Idia, since Idia wanted to continue his game's story mode with you

Idia quickly finished his business, but as he exited the room, he couldn't help but eavesdrop an interesting conversation…

"Why don't you hang out with us instead of that shut-in of a dorm leader?"

His attention was on the group of boys talking to you, closing in on you

He was caught off guard as you punched the leader square in the nose

"That's for insulting my boyfriend."

Idia had to admit that he got excited over you being so cool! It's like you're the protagonist that rescues the archmage-

Wait… That means that he's the archmage…

After scaring away the group away, Idia ran up to you, hugging you. His jacket covered you both, as you looked up at Idia…

"YN… Thank you…"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona always invites you to laze around, so when you were late, he got irritated

He was competent enough to memorise your schedule, so he knew where you would most likely be

He made his presence known, although he didn't care about the other students in his way

His ears perked up hearing your voice. Why were you in the labs?

He peaked inside to see some boys corner you. Ah… Some students that don't know their place…

"C'mon! Just one date and then you can go to that lion boy toy of yours!"

Oh… Now he was ticked off…

Before he could make a grand entrance, he heard a thud

The student hurled over in pain, clutching his lower half and gasping for air…

Oh… so the little herbivore punched him there…

He couldn't help but laugh, kicking the door open. You immediately went to his side, huffing away from those rude students

As Leona escorted you to his room, he mischievously called you out on it, "I didn't take you for one to go for the crown jewels… You gotta sanitise your hands before touching my sheets though."

You poked Leona's cheek, stopping him from teasing you, "And you, Leona, I might kick yours instead if you don't stop teasing me!"

You yelped, being carried by him. "No can do YN~"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil wondered why you didn't come find him after classes. You'd usually have some afternoon tea with him

He didn't think you'd skip out on purpose, so he commanded Rook to search for you

He also walked around, asking the students in your year whether they saw you or not

He grew anxious, quickening his pace until he heard your voice-

"I don't have anything to do with you, so stop it!"

He turned the corner, seeing you and your arms crossed and a group of students confronting you

One reached out their hand to you, which you retaliated by punching him square in the jaw

The student fell on his other friends, and Vil decided that this was enough

"Ah… I don't think it was wise to mess with my sweet potato…"

The remaining students scrambled to their feet, fearing the dorm leader's magic

"Scram, won't you?"

Vil didn't need to say it twice. The students disappeared, leaving you with Vil

Vil hugged you, patting your head. "My YN… I'm glad that you can defend yourself, but if you continue to do this, your knuckles will be bruised and I refuse to allow that."

You stood on your toes, pecking him on the cheek. "I appreciate the thought Vil."

#twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios

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