#i also want to create a taglist so please any can comment and let me know if you want to be added!!

[vivaalenaa]

Heyyy guysssss so I’m currently in the process of writing a terry/aaron fic and it’s gonna be called “Give Me a Show” it will INDEED be smut so 18+!!!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!! and yeahhhh🤭 this is also going to be my first fic on here so please be kind🙏🏾🙏🏾. But I’m open to constructive criticism 💋💋.

[namjooningelsewhere]

War Of The Hearts: #9

✽Pairing - OT7 x reader (DJ) and OT7 x Lily

✽Word Count - 7.8k

✽Ratings - 18+

✽Genre(s) - Mafia Au, Angst , Fluff, mentions of smut.

✽Trigger Warnings - Mentions of Death, Mentions of Trauma , minor alcohol consumption, mentions of torture and shootouts and mentions of bloodshed, Mentions of Drugs, Attempted Murder, A little manipulative behavior, A shootout, a lot of cursing, There is a little bit of torture in here so please please avoid this if this triggers you in any way.

✽Summary - You’ve been lurking in the shadows, protecting the seven of Bangtan even if it means you must give your own life. After all, that’s what you do when you are in love with someone irrevocably. That pain seems to be minuscule in light of their safety. But it was never about you, for all you are is a speck of dust in the universe they have created for them and their girlfriend. Your heart’s at war, but it’s fine, you can smile through the pain as long as it means they smile- for her.

✽A/N : Hello Everyone! I apologise I couldn't post the last time due to some circumstances and I literally couldn't find any time to get on Tumblr after the post. The 9th part is here now, And I hope you guys like it, And also my apologies if you find the writing a little over the place, Ive been in a slump with writing since a year and this is my honest attempt to get out of it. I would love it if you let me know what you think about it.

✽Taglist: @brimal @2ne1unni @shatzkrinslinzki @zae007live, @gukieater @tinyoonsblog @skylievin @2ne1unni @lovelgirl22 @euphakid @embrace-themagic @didi-9310 @loisje123 @iamhereforbts @silscintilla @2ne1unni @rp171198 @aboredboredboreduniverse @blaaiissee @top-crop @sa7kou @chhungi-bawihtlung @aquariushoesss @definitelythinkimanalien

7mer @babycoffeefire @emoskytime8 @hob3yw0rld@motivatedprocastinator @speedyqueendaze @sugajinny @thereaderwholovesyou @btspurplesky @skz-jeha @theestrangeddreamer @success1009 @militrybarbi @afangirllikeme-blog @celestialentitiesss @daydreambrliever @bibebts @dreamamubarak @kimsaerom @sa7kou @veronawrites @bt21chim @cutiepat @jooniebub @shadowyjellyfishfest @mageprincess7 @jiminbolala @impossibilitydesign @xtayxx​ @ cherryluvhobi @knjsbae @intoomanyfandoms15 @foreverddaeng

✽Part Eight - Here

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

You chuckled at hearing a gasp from the Bratva’s side, Your request was very unusual for him. You knew that. You were sure he wouldn't be able to fathom why exactly you wanted Zakharov to visit you in Korea.         

“Bratva, we will speak when you get here. Right now all I am requesting is your presence here. Rest assured, This is going to be one hell of a trip.” Bratva obliged your request right away without questioning further. You looked at the men standing in the room looking at you with an expression that spelled curiosity all over their faces.

“They have agreed to come, Bratva will let me know sometime tomorrow when exactly they can come.” 

“You're in for a treat.” Borris looks at Jimin helplessly when he hears Jimin mock him. You shrug your shoulders when Borris looks at you expecting him to help him. He should have thought of that before they plotted against you and the Bangtan men. These were nothing but consequences of their actions.

If they didn't feel bad before using and treating you as a scapegoat, Then why the hell should you?

“What do we do now?” You take a moment to answer Taehyung’s question. How were you supposed to go from here? 

“Let's move him to my house, Mikhail will be taken care of by my men.” Nobody speaks up against your decision, Except for Borris. Who of course has a lot of comments to make. You ignore the pleas of the man and ask your men to take him to your house. You needed to keep a strict eye on the man lest there should be any other unexpected events. Should there be one?

It takes a little while after a screaming Borris is escorted out of the room, You take a minute to calm down. The way Borris kept screaming gave you a headache and you really didn't want to hear the voice of that man for some time. You needed some silence.

You sit in the room with the other men who seemed too quiet, Nobody spoke anything. They were all just sitting there. Some look at their hands entwined in their laps, The others look at the furniture in the room as if it were in some museum. These feelings sometimes were so difficult to express, That you had no idea what to do about it. You all had been played, and manipulated by Lily. And right now neither you nor the boys knew where you would go from here. “It's getting late, We should leave.” Everyone looked at Namjoon with somewhat of an expression of relief, The awkward atmosphere was getting too much to bear.

“I don't want to be anywhere near Lily right now.” Everyone seemed to agree with Yoongi. You looked at the seven men with a puzzled expression. Lily did not know they knew, And you did not have the slightest clue yourself of how the boys were going to face her, Let alone you.

“I think me and Namjoon will go to our house with Lily, The rest of you stay with DJ at her place.” Namjoon gave Jin a questioning look but did not speak. The older male seemed to gesture at something which did not make him question anything anymore.

“Boss, do you want us to come with you?”

“No, I guess let's call it a day. You guys have had enough for today as well.” The two men nodded and left first. You bid farewell to the two men who left for their house. You could feel the tension thick in the air but there was very little that you could do about it. You had no words to express the pain that you yourself felt when you saw the pain on the seven men's faces. They were feeling so many things at the same time, Yet there was barely anything that these men could do about it.

“Namjoon..” You pulled Namjoon into a hug when he looked back the moment you called him. His hands tightened around your waist and you just wished he could feel what you wanted to convey.

“It will be alright.” You feel his head nodding in a yes, You take a deep breath inhaling his scent, Which provides a sense of comfort. You let him go after a second, He gave you a weak smile and proceeded towards his car. You followed the five men to your respective cars to leave for your house.

The house seemed dead silent when both Jin and Namjoon walked in, The men wordlessly walked towards Lily’s room. She was still sleeping peacefully and totally unaware of her surroundings.

Jin took a seat near her and switched on the lights on the light side. The dimly lit room hid their tears very well. The soft light illuminated only the face of the woman they had come to love all these years, They couldn't have thought in their wildest dreams of the dark secret the woman was hiding.

Namjoon stroked Lily’s head softly, His fingers caressing her forehead in a way where a little force could break her. He let out a sigh and looked at Jin who had an equally gloomy expression on his face. The two men spent a good minute just looking at Lily, who looked like she was having the best sleep after a hard working day.

“You remember the first day we met her? She looked like she was seconds away from ripping your hair out?” Namjoon chuckled at that fond memory. For the first time ever in his life, he had someone walk up to him and yell at him. With every word she spoke, Namjoon kept controlling his laughter which ultimately came off the minute she took a pause. She still remembered the bewildered expression that came over Lily’s face when she saw them laughing his head off. The smile that came on her face after snatching his breath instantly threw him out of the laughing fit. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed too was enough to have him swooning.

“I remember it clearly just like it happened yesterday. That smile was lethal.” Jin let out a small laugh at Namjoon’s mention, His first memory of Lily resembling something of Namjoon. He still remembered the way he had dragged Namjoon to see who she was. 

“Who knew she was hiding so many things.” 

“Never knew she could do something like this to us.” Namjoon withdraws his hands and stands up making his way to the window, The dark night looks better than the darkness inside him. His brain wanted to kill the woman who had used him and was probably very close to betraying him. But his heart kept refuting everything he had heard. Namjoon let out a frustrated scream and punched his hand on the window hard, shattering the glass into pieces.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? Show me.” Jin looked at the younger’s hand in pure despair, The shards of glass sticking to his knuckles made him bleed profusely.

“I will kill you if you do that shit again, il back in a second.” Jin rushed out of the bedroom to bring the first aid kit while Namjoon dejectedly took a seat on the chair placed right in front of Lily.

Jin froze in his steps and Namjoon suddenly stopped him with his hand. He got up and knelt down in front of Lily who was letting out small groans. She was waking up. Jin pulled Namjoon back and made him sit.

“I don't care if she is waking up, Sit down. Let's have a look at this first.” Jin’s stern expression got Namjoon sitting down like a small kid who was threatened with being grounded. Jin let small curses when Namjoon winced in pain and right at that moment he was thankful that he had the rest of them by his side. At Least they weren't going anywhere. They would always be by his side.

“DJ….” Jin paused his administration on Namjoon’s hand the second he heard your name, Really? She had the audacity to set you up and then utter your name like you were in some kind of distress. Namjoon tried getting up but Jin’s strong grip on his thighs didn't allow him to do so. 

“Funny isn't it, How she is the one who was setting up DJ, and hers is the first name she took when she's waking up.” Jin's grip didn't allow Namjoon to budge. The man could be as stubborn as a mule and nobody could do anything about it. 

“I wonder what she remembers.” Namjoon quickly shushed him, pointing a finger at the woman. Jin and Namjoon concentrated on the woman's movements which kept getting more restless and your name which kept coming out of her mouth like a mantra. Her movements signaled the men that she would be waking up any minute.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

“Namjoon.--

“Don't wake up, Just lay back down.” Namjoon placed her head back on the pillow, While Jin ran to fetch a glass of water. 

“Where is Dj?” Namjoon placed his finger on her lips trying his best to not shake her up and slap her for what she tried to do. 

“She's safe. You should get some rest.” He stroked her forehead and the woman fell back asleep. Jin gently held her head and helped her drink some water. Even before she could take two sips Jin popped the question he had been dying to ask her, What did she remember? The water spluttered out of Lily’s mouth and she began coughing violently. Namjoon gave a stern look to Jin while he rubbed her back, Jin just gave a blank expression. Maybe he knew what was about to go down. His mind wanted to see the extent she would lie, but his heart secretly wished that somehow magically she wouldn't have anything to do with all this.

Lily’s huge sobs brought Jin out of his thoughts and the little hope that was peeking its head inside his heart went away in an instant.

“He had his gun here, Right on my head.”Lily wept in Namjoon’s arms and the latter just stopped himself from giving her a piece of his mind.

“Sweetie, did you know who they were? Why were they after you?”

“I don't remember anything, They hit me so hard on the head. Maybe they wanted to hurt you guys and meant to use me like a pawn.” Jin clenched his teeth in rage, Really is this how this woman had been lying to their face all these years? What else had she lied about?

“Namjoon, Jin. I am too tired and weak right now. I want to sleep.” The two men placed her head on the pillow back again and pulled the comforter on her. 

“Sleep here with me please, I don't want to be alone.” The two men obliged unwillingly, What could they have given to not be there with her right now. For the first time ever, They did not want to be there by her side. They had the urge to run miles away from her, But there was so much to know and so much left to unveil, They had to play along.

Lily relaxed a little after she had the two men sleeping next to her side, She snuggled into Namjoons chest and prayed silently that everything was right at the place that it was supposed to be. For the life of her, she couldn't remember a single thing no matter what. While she decided to rest and hope that everything was fine, the two men stayed awake next to her, hating every second of it. This was going to be one hell of a long night. 

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

You sat in front of the two men that had been locked in the basement, Your men stood guard outside ready to blow the heads of the two captive men if they tried something. Mikhail kept drifting in and out of consciousness while Borris sat terrified and roped to the chair. His eyes kept moving towards Mikhail and the fear of having the same fate as him and that fear in his eyes gave you a sick level of satisfaction.

“Why can't you just let us go?” You did not dignify Borris’s question with an answer,  You were not even sure anymore what were you even supposed to say to him? These guys came into your life from nowhere and turned it worse than up and down, for their own selfish needs. Tried to pawn you off like you belonged to them or some toy that they had bought. Lily should be thankful you still had not laid your hands on her.

“Will you say something?” Borris bought his voice several notches down, Still not sure of what you would do lest he pissed you off. Mikhail was right next to me, probably wishing he was dead. 

“If I hear one more word out of your mouth, Those worms from his thigh will be in your eyes.” Borris shrieked loud enough to induce another headache, One movement of your leg was enough to have the man apologizing profusely. 

You kept sitting in front of the two men, This time in peace. The entire day kept flashing in front of you like a film, The one you wouldn't even want to have a dream of. You had to plan ahead, Starting from Choi first. The bastard had answers to give.

“You had a long day, You should get some sleep.” You turn around to see Yoongi leaning on the door, His arms crossed and a blank expression on his face. 

“So did you.” 

“Just get up already, It's getting late.” You do not argue with him and get up and start walking with him. You had no energy whatsoever to have another argument with anyone. 

The men had taken their picks from their room as soon as they had walked inside your house, Nobody said anything. You didn't either. Everyone needed some silence to reflect on what they had gone through that day. You had walked straight to the basement to check the captive rats in your house. 

You and Yoongi just kept walking up the stairs, An inexpressible silence engulfing both of you. Maybe you just didn't need words, You didn't know for him but somehow deep down inside you were glad that you were not alone. “Mind if I stay here tonight?” Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before you silently nodded and the man followed you inside. 

“Make yourself comfortable, I'll just wash up.” You didn't wait for his reply as you went towards your bathroom and the said man made himself comfortable on the right side of the bed.

“Can't sleep?” 

“Yoongi?” You touched his shoulder lightly to which he flinched, You stepped back in surprise and placed your hands in the front where he could see them. He had to be too deep in thought for a light touch to be startling him like that.

“I'm sorry, I'm just….”

“No it's okay, I mean are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm okay—-

“Are you really?”

“No, I'm not. Hell, I'm not remotely okay. What the hell happened today?”

“I know its a lot to take in—-

“We loved her, you know? Like really really loved her. I don't think I've loved any other woman as much as I have loved her.” Your heart broke at the way he was speaking about Lily with so much pain. All of you were in the same boat, to be honest, You loved Bangtan, Bangtan loved Lily, Lily loved Borris and she didn't give two fucks about who she hurt in the process.

You were all part of a terrible terrible mess, And none of you could do anything about it. “Trust me, I understand how you all must be feeling right now.” Yoongi was visibly at a loss of words, You could see that. You quickly mumbled a quick sorry and switched off the lights to avoid any kind of awkward atmosphere. You had enough of it already.

“DJ…….”

“Hmm?”

“I am sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“I know we didn't know, And we couldn't help how you felt. But now I truly know how it feels when that person you love is not yours.” A tear rolled down your eyes, Though the scenarios were entirely different, but just him at that moment acknowledging that feeling gave you a different strength. They were not at fault, But just the mere thought of someone deeply understanding how and what you've been through healed something. Maybe you were being selfish, But at that moment you didn't give a damn about anything. 

You stayed in the same position facing away from the wall and Yoongi sat up, Leaning on the headboard. None of you said anything anymore. There was a very scarce chance that you would have gotten any sleep considering the way the day had unfolded. You made a feeble attempt to convince yourself that the lack of sleep came from the day you had, And had nothing to do with the man beside you who was already deeply heartbroken. 

You turned towards Yoongi, unable to resist the temptation. A part of you just wanted to pull him in a hug and hold him tight enough to make his pain disappear. Your heart broke into a million pieces looking at Yoongi staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face. 

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts, but Yoongi still remained the same. It looked like he didn't even hear it. You touch his hand lightly but upon receiving no response you let the man be and decide to open the door yourself. 

“Can I sleep here?” You make way for Taehyung, who stills for a second when he sees Yoongi on the bed. He quietly sleeps in the middle and places Yoongi’s hand on his chest. Yoongi looks at the younger male in surprise but does not react. You stand still for a minute looking at the scene in front of you. How you wish you had Jeh here. Just his being there made everything so much better.

“Are you going to sleep or what?” 

“Yeah I was going to—- 

“Then come.”

Taehyung’s hand snaked around your waist and you felt a strange sense of comfort. It was kind of a day where you wouldn't choose to be alone. You closed your eyes waiting for sleep to overcome everything you had been through today. You drifted off to light sleep, You ignored any moment that somehow kept happening beside you, Some sleep was all you wanted.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

You opened your eyes to the biggest surprise you had in some time. You could call it a good surprise but it was still a surprise. You were three people when you had slept but you were now waking up to a total of six of them excluding you in your bed. You did not have even the slightest clue when Jimin, Hobi, Jungkook had joined Yoongi, Taehyung, and you on your bed that was meant for two, a Maximum of three and a half. 

You carefully crept out of the bed, making sure not to make any noise because you had no idea when these men had managed to have some sleep. You walked down the steps making up your mind about if you should have woken those guys or if you should just leave them sleeping. You decide the latter and start thinking of the strongest coffee that you would need to make to help with your day better.

You had already made up your mind about half of the things that you had to do today, Choi was on top of it. You could swear you would make him regret coming behind you. 

You park your car in the private parking in the public administrator's building that Choi’s office was in. You make your way to the private entrance of the building which was specifically reserved for the VIP’s visiting the officials. The offices were quite exquisite considering they had special arrangements for the VIPs who didn't want to be seen when they visited the premises and every one of them had a special access card that let them access the building when they needed to.

You take the elevator and land on the floor Choi was located on, The waiting area was absolutely empty apart from the reception.

“Hi, Do you have an appointment?”

“No, But Mr.Choi knows me. Can you inform him of my presence?” The receptionist gauges your calm and collected face for a second and picks up the receiver. You were in half mind if the bastard would see you upon unannounced notice but you had other ways as well.

“I'm sorry but he is a little occupied at the moment, I can pencil you down for some time this week?” You laughed at the weak attempt he made to avoid you. 

“Is he now? Don't worry, that won't be necessary. He will see me in a minute” You send the picture that you had clicked of Mikhail on your phone and look at the camera with a smirk, You knew he was watching you. Ten seconds later the telephone rings and the puzzled receptionist guides you into his office.

“What the hell do you want, I don't know this man?” You laugh at the way the old man didn't bother giving it a minute, You walk towards the couch he was sitting on with a smile that was calm enough to boil his blood. 

“I didn't ask you anything old man, Why don't you give it a minute?”

“DJ, don't think you can fool me with your antics, I'm not bothered.” You let out a laugh listening to his statement, Really? And yet he had let you see him within ten seconds. Ten seconds was all it took you to break that disgusting piece of shit. 

“Okay let me take this picture to the circle then, Let them decide.” You get up and walk towards the door sure of the thing that this time was not your exit, The bastard had too much on the line.

“Wait—-

“You remember now?” 

“Just come back here.”

“Don't leave out a thing, Or else this man is going to be the reason why you will see your own end.”

“He came here because he wanted revenge because you wiped out his family.” 

“And”

“I gave him an idea that he should take down everything you love before you die, And that includes Bangtan.” Now this rang an alarm in your head, Why? Why would he want to go after Bangtan?

“And how did you get in touch with him?”

“You think only you know the people in the Russian mob? I knew it from the day you bought his father here, I tracked him down and led him here indirectly and when he was here I just helped him figure out the details. Since we had the same motives he readily obliged.” You were stunned by the information that the old man had just blurted out, You were still puzzled by how he had planned to use something that didn't involve him in the first place. 

“Why Bangtan?”

“I wanted them all gone.”

“Why?”

“Senior Jung was considering Namjoon to be the head of the circle.” Now this was something that you had no information about. The thought of Choi doing something like this only to eliminate the Bangtan because one of them was supposed to be the next head. You swore you would show him the consequences of it. 

“You did all this because you wanted that position for—

“My son.” He uttered the words rather feebly, Your expression darkened considerably, How stupid was this man that he had chosen to execute all this, and for what. The circle would anyways not have accepted his son, That brat was hopeless. 

You were furious about everything that had been happening in your life, You wanted to bury Lily deep in thorns, This was all because of her, She put you in a mess that was a literal swamp, the more you tried to get out, the deeper you kept going. 

You saw an expression of fear and confusion on Choi’s face. He didn't anticipate you reaching the root of his conspiracy, And probably wondered how you even managed to do this? 

You kept pacing behind his couch, half in a mind to strangle this bastard and chop his head off. You decided the former is a better option. You quietly picked the tie hanging in his coat stand, while the poor guy kept trying to look back trying to gauge your next move.

“Next time I see you playing such dirty tricks on me or either of the men in Bangtan I will make sure you regret the day you were born.” The old man struggled for a breath as you tightened the tie around his neck. How you wished you could choke the life out of this scum.

“I swear I won't” The old man managed to speak a few words in a matter of few seconds, You threw the tie away in disgust and walked out before you ended up killing him for real.

You walk out of the Choi office in a mixed sea of emotions, Anger, despair, and sadness. Those emotions just kept coming back, They kept getting washed to the shore in intervals leaving you in confusion about the way to deal with them.

You kept driving through the roads aimlessly trying to get a hold of your thoughts, You had invited Bratva and Lily’s ex-husband to Korea, That mere thought of Lily’s face when she would see them gave you another wave of sick satisfaction. Even though you were involved in a business that was not legal, and was deeply rooted in blood and conspiracies you never derived any satisfaction that soothed you to the bones, But ever since you knew about Lily’s intentions and her lies there was an evil satisfaction that coursed through your veins. 

The ringing of your phone brought you back to reality from your self-introspection. Seeing Bratva's name on the screen, You hurriedly park your car on the side and with a deep breath click on the answer.  

“DJ” Bratva’s heavy voice booms through the speakers sending a little shiver down your spine even though there was no reason to. 

“Bratva, How are you?” 

“I am good, But something tells me you are not okay, doc.” You almost feel your tears trying to escape through your eyes but you try to keep them in. At that moment you miss Jeh. You had only him in your life who could just by looking at your face, Could tell something was wrong with you. 

“Doch—

“Yeah Bratva, I am right here. Tell me”

“You tell me DJ, What has happened? Something doesn't feel right.”

“Before I tell you what has happened, You will be coming to Korea right?”

“Of Course, we are, What makes you think that I won't come if you call me? We will be there in a week, Zakharov is a little occupied right now. But we will be there for sure.” You smile at the remark reminiscing how you and Bratva had met versus the fondness in his voice right now.

“That's not a problem Bratva, I don't want to inconvenience you in any way— “That's nonsense, Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You narrate the entire event from the time you got back from Russia to Bratva and he listens to you with a stoic expression. The only way you can make the anger emanating from him is the stiffness of his expression and the clenching of his jaw. 

“That bitch” 

“I swear—

“I swear I will kill her when I lay my hands on her—

“Bratva, There is no joy in killing her, I have better plans for her.”

“You mean?” You chuckle at the way Bratva’s face lights up when you say you have a special plan for her, You always felt that this particular idea of putting someone in deep suffering would be ten times gruesome than killing the person and giving them an easy way out, And it was time that Lily tasted this special expertise of yours.

“Bratva, Let me get back to you for the details but for now know that she is in for a treat.” You hear Bratva’s booming laugh and that breaks a smile on your face.

She was indeed in for a treat.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

You open the door cautiously to your home and are immediately greeted by the loud voices in the living room. You could tell from a distance that all seven of them were present in your home right now. You stop at the door and contemplate for a minute whether you should go inside, But then you drive the idea away, This was your fucking house. 

The confusion was about your equation with the men of Bangtan, This was evolving with the speed of light. One day you were mere acquaintances, The next you were supposedly dating, The next you were friends, and now? That was a question you had no answer to.

The room quietens a bit when you enter the room. The sounds that you had been hearing somewhat gave you a hint that they were being joyous about something. 

“Did I miss something?” 

“DJ you won't believe what has happened.” Taehyung pulls you right into the middle of the room and in extremely close proximity to Namjoon, Who you were sure was the source of the good news because the smile on his face was something different than usual.

You were happy and a little relieved to see the boys joyous, Considering how their hearts had been broken and shattered yesterday.

“What happened?’’

“Well Namjoon is the new head of the circle, And that too starting next week. Can you even believe that?” You were genuinely happy for him, Namjoon truly deserved to be the next head, At Least with him being the decision maker, You could breathe in a sigh of relief some of the old traditions needed to be sent packing. With Namjoon, You were sure he would be doing great.

“Congratulations Namjooon, I am so happy for you.” You see a faint dimple appearing on his cheeks right before you experience another shock, He pulls you right into a hug and mumbles a thank you in your hair, You literally felt every syllable of it.

You lose track of how fast your heart starts beating once the woody scent of his perfume engulfs you in its serenity. You remain in his hold for a second, when you pull yourself out of his hold before you lose yourself.

“It's good to see you guys happy.” The boys visibly tense at your remarks but their expressions remain a little on the softer side. 

“It's not like we have an option.”

“Forget that, I think we should go out for dinner or something, I am still sick from yesterday.”

“And—--

“She doesn't need to know, DJ dress up. We leave in fifteen, Max twenty.”

“Wait—--

“Dress up please” Jimin pushes you towards the stairs and you give up on your effort to ask them about Lily. It was definitely strange the way Namjooon said she didn't need to know.

You stand under the shower thinking about everything again and suddenly an idea lights up your face. Namjoon had one week before he had to begin as the head of the circle, And there was also one week before Bratva and Zakharov arrived in Korea. A party would be the perfect opportunity to introduce the two parties to each other, And it would also be a perfect opportunity to stand by and watch the magic unfold.

You hum a happy song walk out of the shower in your towel and stand in front of the mirror before you can spritz some perfume the door to your room bursts open and Jimin and Jungkook come barreling in, You stand shocked to see the two men rooted to their spots with their eyes open.

You clear your throat and gesture towards the door but it looks like it barely registered with them. 

“Out, The door is right behind you.” You try to speak a little louder, hopeful of getting through to them, And before you know it the guys scramble out of the room. You would have to double-check if you locked your room the next time.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

“I wanted to speak to you guys about something.” The boys pause their talks and divert their attention to you. You glance around before you begin to make sure you have everybody’s attention.

“I want to throw a party–

“For? The way all of us have gotten fooled, For that?” You throw a stern glance at Yoongi who surprisingly stays quiet and motions you to go ahead.

“I want to throw a party for Namjoon. He's the new head of the circle and it's a perfect occasion to celebrate.”

“DJ, That is not really req—-

“I am going to invite Bratva and Zakharov to that party too.”

“I'll help with the guest list.” You are quite surprised with the fact that Yoongi and Hobi said that at once, You feel relieved to have the confirmation, Now you are free to plan the party and Lily’s downfall at the same time.

“I would like to see her face. That lying— Taehyung stops himself from uttering the next word. You could clearly see the pain on his face, But there was very little that you could do.

The dinner passes by in a jiffy, considering the excitement the guys had earlier had died down considerably after you mentioned the party and the special guests. But what had to be done, Had to be done. There was no choice.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

A loud banging on your door jolts you awake, You rush to the door fearing the worst consequences when The six guys excluding Jin come rushing into your room, You stand at the door with your eyes and mouth wide open wondering about the reason for this rushed visit.

“She's here, She here.” Jimin points at the door, And for you, it takes a second to register who she is.

“But why are you hiding?”

“We don't want to face her, Not right now.” The panic in the guy's faces tells you that this is not the time to reason with them. 

“Alright, Let me close the door.” But before you could close the door, Lily comes barging in, and before you could say anything she pulls you in for a hug.

“I have been so worried about you, Where were you, DJ? I was so worried they did something with you.” The grip that she had been tightening on you was suffocating you to no end, Her lies just didn't seem to end.

“She's fine, Don't worry.” Lily looked at Hobi with a shocked expression, It was evident that she didn't expect this reaction out of him. You clear your throat at the intervention and move behind Hobi to keep a safe distance from her. You could totally understand why the boys were running away from her, Only you knew how you were resisting the urge to strangle her right there.

“I am fine Lily, Don't worry. They didn't do anything to me. In fact, I was worried about you.”

You could see an uncomfortable expression surfacing on Lily's face but she hides it like a pro. You look at the guys who keep making weird attempts to avoid her by looking everywhere in the room except Lily herself. 

“Where were you all?”

“We, We have been a little busy.” 

“Yeah, He's right. We were busy, In fact very busy.” Taehyung tries to make it sound as if what he is saying is super important but his attempts just go in vain. The poor guy couldn't lie to save his life.

“Tae, are you trying to lie to me?” 

“Actually they're all really worried about us.” You quickly jump in to save Taehyung and the only way you could do that was by turning the tables.

“Us?”

“We are—?” You throw a stern look at Namjoon, Which ends up working on Yoongi too. You could see he was about to say something. 

“Yeah, So what I was saying was, You know how you were kidnapped? I mean both of us were kidnapped? They're wondering who did it, you know? And what could be the intention behind the kidnapping? “ You feel the same satisfaction when you feel Lily tensing after every question, It has definitely worked.

“You don't need to worry you guys, I am fine. Absolutely fine.” Lily tries stepping back to make an exit, But you step right behind her and block her way. You were not done with her yet.

“Do you remember anything from that day Lily?” You feel Lily tensing up even more, The fun is about to begin.

“I—---

“Try to remember Lily, The guys are really worried about you–

“And you.” 

“Sorry?”

“We were worried about you both, I meant.”

“So Lily, Babe, do you remember anything at all? Try to remember.” Jungkoook steals Lily from you places a hand on her shoulder and begins walking to the other guys. Turn by turn Lily passed around like a little doll, And you could see the way she was feeling deeply uncomfortable. A few minutes into the sweet interrogation, She would be sure to sweat.

“Namjoon, Baby I am not feeling too well. Can you take me home?”

“Actually baby, Jimin and Taehyung will take you home. I have a meeting.” 

“Hyung—

“Take Jungkook with you.”

“Hyung,” It was Jungkook's turn to whine, Lily looked at them with a very confused expression. This probably was the first time when the guys must have been avoiding taking her home. Generally from what you saw, It was actually the opposite.

“Go please.” Namjoons stern voice drives the four of them out of the room in a jiffy, You breathe a sigh of relief. The stress that these few minutes had brought was immense. 

“Close the door please.” 

“Sure” You close the door with a confused expression, "They were going to be sleeping here too?

“That's my side, Pick somewhere else.” The way Yoongi pushed Hobi, brought a smile on both your and Namjoon's faces. 

“I will sleep here, I mean Sit here.” Namjoon points towards the sofa on your right and you nod in a yes. You take your place on the bed and the rest of them settle on the bed. 

“Where’s Jin?” You ask, Remembering that you had not seen him after dinner.

“He's gone for a drive, He ran away the minute he saw Lily coming. You laugh the way Hobi scowls, You turn off the lights, and the minute your head hits the pillow you feel sleep taking over you in a minute. 

You wake up with some light ruffling on the side, You turn on the lights to see Jin trying to make some space on the bed, The way he was mumbling something clearly indicated that he was drunk. There were multiple bedrooms in the house and all these men could find was your room.

“Jin–

Your eyes widen when Jin stumbles to your side and kisses the top of your head. Good night, It takes him a few stumbles to reach back to the spot he made for himself. He sleeps on his stomach and passes out faster than a second.

You take a look at Namjoon who was fast asleep, But in an awkward position. You quickly bring the spare pillow adjust his head and decide to go back to sleep. It was indeed a long night.

You had enough time for planning a party, You started with the major things by scheduling details for Bratva’s travel. They had agreed to be in Korea the following week. The guys keep staying at your place and absolutely refuse to return to their homes. Lily without a doubt kept herself occupied, Your guess was probably she was trying to figure out the whereabouts of her boyfriend.

The boys kept waiting for the day when Lily and the special guests would arrive. You kept yourself busy with your work, Party arrangements, and some last-minute deliveries. 

The guys kept hovering around you for one reason or the other, From receiving zero attention from them to having their attention on yourself was overwhelming, to say the least, And you definitely had a problem with the fact that the attention doubled in front of Lily, It sometimes looked like they were doing it on purpose. But you avoided saying anything to them because given what was going on from the past couple of days, You didn't want to create any more drama. 

You tried keeping yourself as away as you could from the cold war that was happening, Lily sometimes tried to stay over and it would end up with everyone in your room.

You decided to ignore everything for the time being, Your sole focus was making the party a huge hit, One for establishing a good image for Namjoon, And mainly was the grand reveal.

The only good thing that kept you sane was your calls with Marco and Jeh. Though Jeh was still unconscious you still made it a point to talk to him at least thrice a day. Marco made sure he let you vent your heart out, You had no idea how you could ever thank god for these two. 

While it was long back that Marco and Jeh had been in Malaga, all of that felt like it was yesterday.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

You walked around the hall greeting and speaking to guests with Namjoon, You had felt weird that Namjoon had asked you to be at his side at all times. You didn't say anything considering that it was a big day for him today. 

Lily kept greeting the other guests alone, you were sure it might have raised eyebrows but that was not something you were going to bother yourself with. You kept looking at your phone to check if Bratva and Zakharov had landed, You received a text message indicating that they had arrived safely, You felt your nerves starting to explode, The excitement, anxiety, and stress of everything had you gulping down flutes of champagne.

“You okay?” Namjoon asked as you finished your flute, You looked at him once and once at the door. There still wasn't any sign of the arrival of the guests.

“It's just the nerves.”

“Don't worry everything will be fine.” Namjoon holds your hand in a tight grip and that somewhat soothes the anxiety inside you.

You keep greeting the guests as they come, and when the beep sounds on your phone you breathe a sigh of relief, Bratva and Zakharov were here, And so were Mikhail and Borris. You had gotten both of them intentionally there, That was a twist you decided to throw in at the last minute. This was going to be epic.

Mikhail was obviously still in bad shape but you had made sure that he had been accommodated well in a wheelchair, And he was kept conscious deliberately to see how bad he had failed.

You kept doing rounds and once you were sure that all the invited people had arrived, You checked your phone for the latest update, And you saw a message from Jin. He had already taken Bratva and Zakharov with them backstage, Mikhail and Borris would be making a grand appearance with them.

The guys made sure Lily was with them once Bratva arrived, And turn by turn the guys wished you and Namjoon good luck.

You walk with Namjoon on the stage and take the mic to greet everyone, You and Namjoon keep arguing over who would introduce the special guests, But Namjoon ends up winning because apparently his vote came with seven other votes that refused to listen to anything. 

You saw the crowd waiting with a smile, It was finally happening. The nerves had calmed down considerably and you were more than okay to witness the spectacle.

“Hello Everyone! Thank You so much for attending today’s party, I am sure each one of you knows how much it means to us. It sure is a big day for Namjoon, Who is about to begin a wonderful tenure as the head of our circle. It is my greatest pleasure to be greeting you all and also host this special occasion. “ you ended the short note with a formal address to the crowd. You handed the mic to Namjoon who thanked everyone who attended the party. He held your hand when he was about to finish his speech, Indicating it was time.

“Now Ladies And Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to our very special guests who have arrived here from Russia specially on our invitation. Please give it up for our very dear Bratva and Vladimir Zakharov and their friends Mikhail and Borris.” 

The color drained from Lily’s face visibly and in a fraction of a second, you saw fear flashing on her face. You and Namjoon walked down from the dice, Yoongi and Hobi made sure that there was no way Lily escaped from their grip, Even though she tried hard to make excuses they didn't budge saying they had to introduce her to the special guests.

“Bratva, this is the other members of Bangtan, This is Yoongi, Taehyung, Hobi, Jimin, Jungkook, Jin and this is the most special member of the group, Lily.” The guys one by one exchanged pleasantries with Bratva and Zakharov, While Lily tried to maintain her composure the sweat on her forehead and the constant effort to free her hand from Yoongi said otherwise. Her expression changed drastically after Zakharov turned to her and took her other hand to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Hello Ms.Lily, Or should I say My wife?”

[bardic-tales]

OC / Writing Ask Tag List

I'm making a taglist for everyone who would like to participate in bringing back certain Writblr events and Tumblr games. However, instead of just limiting it to writeblr, I would like to extend it to fan fiction authors, as well as OC creators.

This Creators' Club was created by my dear friend @starryeyes2000. As part of her legacy, I was debating how I wanted to celebrate her. Starry was extremely supportive of everyone and their work. I would like to continue that.

Instructions:

Please interact with this post if you'd like to be added to my tag list for Tumblr games and past Writeblr ask games, which aims to encourage community interaction, support for others' work, and foster a drama-free creative space. Do not interact whatsoever (including liking this) if you do not wish to be tagged / participate. If you have a different blog that you wish to be asked / tagged in, please either let me know in in the reply section of this post.

By liking, commenting, or reblogging this post, you’re telling me, bardic-tales, you would like to be on my Creators' Club tag list. I encourage you to reach out to the other creators who are on this list, so we can create a community and celebrate each other's work.

This group is open to all creators: writers, visuals artists, and readers. It is for those who appreciate these types of creators. All fandoms are welcome. We accept original works, original characters, alternate universe, strict canon, opt, x reader, and so on.

We aim to support, nurture, and cheer on our fellow content creators, as well as give everyone visibility. Different levels of participation are okay. I understand that schedules change, as does health. Participate at any level, as it feels right for you and your heath.

Part One

@bardic-tales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer @littleshopofchaos

@nightingaleflowlibrary @kricketbee

@themaradwrites @pinkevilwriter

@serenofroses @asirensrage @aalinaaaaaa @goldenlilium-ocs @glbettwrites

Part Two:

@wyked-ao3 @badscientist @thebadphilosopher @andromedalestrange

@fantastictrashpolice @seastarblue @happypup-kitcat24 @chickensarentcheap @allaboutmagic

@ryns-ramblings @kathaliabloodyrose @riemmetric @andromedaexists @kckramer

@tales-from-nocturnaliss @pastelpinkhobbies @idonthaveapenname @the-bar-sinister

@rosesonkittens

--- EDIT: I am putting all the newest members on this post, since I am adding it to the main @creators-club blog. I will also keep posting your work on my main @bardic-tales and that blog. I'm just going to queue your posts on this one so I don't hit my followers with a bunch of posts. :)

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 14 — Santa

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, very Mild Smut — mild explicit language.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

“Come on, babe, it’s gonna be fun,” you exclaimed, bouncing on your toes and playfully tugging Bucky’s arm as you joined the line leading up to Santa’s throne. The sound of holiday music resonated in the background, creating a magical atmosphere filled with anticipation and joy. The queue was adorned with vibrant decorations, and twinkling lights illuminated the path ahead. Families, children, and a few other couples patiently waited for their turn to seize a photo with Santa.

Bucky couldn’t shake off his reservations about sitting on Santa’s lap, a hint of standoffishness evident in his demeanor. You, on the other hand, bubbled with excitement. “I don’t know about this, doll. Isn’t this more for kids?” he questioned, arms crossed, his signature grumpy furrow accentuating his eyebrows.

You giggled, enveloping his waist from the side and gazing up at him with doe eyes and an adorable pout. “It’s for everyone who wants to create memories and capture a cute holiday moment together. It would be adorable to have a picture with Mr. Santa himself.”

He sighed, relaxing as your infectious enthusiasm softened his reservations. “I can’t resist when you’re being so cute,” he chuckled, embracing you tenderly and planting a kiss on your forehead, surrendering himself to a bit of festive childishness.

Finally, your turn arrived, and Santa, with a hearty laugh, welcomed you both to his throne. “Ho, ho, ho! What can I do for this lovely couple today?”

You grinned at Bucky before turning to Santa, your eagerness palpable at meeting the man, the myth, and the legend himself. “We just want a cute photo to remember this Christmas! If you don’t mind, Mr Santa?”

“A cute photo, you say? That’s a splendid request!”

Though slightly embarrassed, Bucky couldn’t resist the twinkle in your eyes. Your excitement warmed his soul, and he couldn’t deny that it also excited him.

As you settled onto Santa’s lap, he encouraged you to share your holiday wishes.

“I just want peace and quiet,” Bucky deadpanned, earning a chuckle from you.

Santa laughed heartily. “A man after my own heart! And you, young lady?”

You teased Bucky with a playful smile. “I wish for this guy to embrace the holiday spirit a little more.”

Bucky rolled his eyes teasingly, but a slight smirk played on his lips. The photographer captured the playful moment, freezing it as a cherished holiday keepsake.

Exiting the mall, Bucky couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. You leaned into him with a happy sigh, and your warmth and infectious joy filled his heart.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, babe?" you teased.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "No, not bad at all, doll. Fun even. But hey," he pulled you close in the vacant parking lot, his firm grip on your hips contrasting with his sweet demeanor at the mall. "Next year, I'll be the one wearing the Santa hat, and then you can sit on my lap, completely naked, of course, and whisper all your wishes to me. And trust me, baby, I'll make them all come true."

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Six (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Hope you like this one. Weirdly it's one of my fave chapters. (I love Frankie, you'll see.) Slightly shorter chapter this time. The angst continues (I’m so sorry... but also I'm really I'm not sorry at all, yk? :P)!  As always, I would be super, super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way, and I'm so touched that anyone would even consider reading this far along in the story! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.7k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Santiago watches you go. Feels the violence of you being snatched from his side like a wound. 

He feels lost for a moment. Paralysed as he watches you retreating, barging by Frankie and Will and Benny in the doorway; most of the boys - barring Tom- having mobilised downstairs. They are soldiers, after all, and so they can sense a conflict. They look like it too. They look primed: to assess, attack, defend. Defend you. Always was that way. That’s all Santiago ever wanted too. 

“Hey. Hey, hey. Come on. What is all this?”. Frankie attempts to soothe as you hasten your approach across the sand, towards the refuge of that doorway. As though Santiago is an earthquake and you must take shelter from him there. “Come on,” he calls out to the two of you, indiscriminately. And then, to Santiago only. “For fuck’s sake, man. You care about each other.”

Santiago can’t move. He desperately wants his feet to move after you but he can’t seem to get them to cooperate. Can’t seem to get any sound of protest to birth from his throat. Can’t seem to bring himself to stop you from walking away. Just like last time. Maybe he thinks he knows what’s better for you, and so he dare not try. 

Instead, he watches as Frankie futilely tries to smooth things -to slow you down - but on your approach he must see little chance of reconciliation in the folds and caving of your face, for he lets you barge right by him. You slip clean by Will on the porch too, and just past Will’s broad shoulders, Santiago can see his brother spinning on his heel. Launching himself to follow you back upstairs. To offer you the comfort you deserve after the wounds you didn’t. The wounds he has created by telling you the one thing he’d always feared himself. 

That there was no hope for the two of you. 

God. He had simply tried to love you, but how could he reach out to you softly when his hands are so lethal? How could he hold you, when all he ever did was hurt? 

He huffs a sharp breath out of his nose, cursing at himself under his breath. His heart is hammering in his chest. There is a ringing in his ears. Guilt. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Guilt most of all. Santiago watches dissociatively as Frankie beelines across the sands for him, not to comfort, he thinks, but to blame. It’s all he deserves, isn’t it? Maybe, but he feels exposed out here, alone on the sand, so he too mobilises towards the house. His head down and his pace purposeful, face locked in a grimace, as though perhaps he too could somehow slip by unnoticed, despite its guarded perimeter. Even though the whole squad is primed for damage control. Even though he’s flagged as the danger. The wrecking ball, the shell, the strike, threatening to bring this house to its knees. 

He’s done worse. 

He had wanted better for you.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit, man,” he spits to Frankie - without looking at his buddy as he rounds on him, attempting to get in his way and slow him down. Santiago doesn’t like to feel caged in. To feel small. Vulnerable. He rasps the palm of his hand down over his mouth and chin. “Fuck.” 

Santiago reaches the porch, still ignoring Frankie, and moves to pass Will too. But, his old captain is having none of that. He pushes Santiago back firmly - heel of hand to shoulder. “Why don’t you leave it?” he warns, the words frothing between his teeth. Santiago still does not look up, his face a snarl, trying once more to shoulder barge and bypass his way into the house. “No, no way.” Will stands taller, knocking him back, practically looming over Santiago now. 

Santiago looks at him this time, in accusation. He squares off to him, tension writhing along his jaw, Will bearing down on him with all the weight of his bulk and presence and his track record. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Frankie placates from behind him, and Santiago feels the man’s hands settle on his tense, packed shoulders. He quickly shrugs them off. “Let’s take a walk. Let’s take a walk.”

“You fucking kidding me?” Santiago bites, his breath raging through his nose. 

“Take a fucking walk, Garcia.” Will orders coolly. The shorter man’s jaw writhes, tension rippling through his body, but he doesn’t plan on going toe to toe with Captain Miller. He knows that wouldn’t end well. 

Frankie tries again, planting his hands once more on Santiago’s shoulders and twisting him away from the porch. Santiago still hasn’t looked at the man. He can only feel him there. This quiet, calming presence, reflecting the grotesqueness of own anger back at him. Forcing him to face himself in the mirror. “Let’s take a walk. Come on, hermano. Take a walk.” 

Santiago rips his gaze and head away from Will and with an unbecoming grunt begins pacing it down the long strip of beach, adrenalin still piping into his veins. His body shaking, tremoring, and fists clenched by his sides. “Can you believe her? I’m just so… fucking-” He growls. 

And still, Frankie is behind him, in his PJs and sliders and just shoving him forward, palms planted on his shoulder blades. “Walk, man. Just fucking walk. Don’t talk. Move your legs.” Santiago tries it one more time, tries to twist around but Frankie just shoves him onward again, keeping pace behind him. He sticks with him, despite the huffed breaths and snipes and everything else. He walks him like a fucking dog until the adrenalin has burnt off. Until Santiago feels only jitters through his weak legs. Until he feels a pit open up inside and swallow him. Until he can carry himself no further away from you. Until he realises that no matter how far he walks he cannot run from himself. 

“You cooled off now, huh?” Frankie manages to soothe, even with the bitter lime-wedge bite in his tone. “Okay. Okay.” 

Santiago crashes. 

“Fuck, Frankie.”It is as though he turns to sand, knees buckling and dropping to a crouch, burying his face into his gently tremoring hands. “Shit.” He scoops up a handful of sand, tossing a tiny grit storm into the air. “Fuuuuucckk.” He crests, and he sags back on to his ass with a sorry thud into the sand, his legs spread and knees drawn up. He rests his elbows on top of them, his head sagging down in between his legs and his fingers lacing behind his neck. He looks like he’s protecting himself from debris. From the aftermath.  

To his side, Santiago hears Frankie sigh deeply, and he plonks himself on the floor beside his buddy. Santiago squirms performatively to dismiss the circles Frankie’s broad hand smooth into his shoulder, but he is eminently glad when his friend doesn’t quit. He needs this. Someone who won’t give up on him. 

Frankie’s robust voice is a comfort too, yet he can still hear some judgement in it. Knows it is coming. Still, generously, Frankie allows Santiago a moment. A breathing cycle before he must face another onslaught. “Hey. Hey, come on.” He pats his back more firmly, and Santiago just sits, tears piping freely down his cheeks. 

There is a groan around a bitten lip, and Santiago finally looks. Finally looks to see Frankie softly shake his head from side to side. Something is coming. Santiago can guess what. It’s somehow always his fault, isn’t it, and so he should expect the onslaught? Frankie’s voice is deceptively soft, but he always strikes in stealth. That’s where he does his best work. He applies another couple of slow, forceful pats to Santiago’s back, before scrunching his hand into his t-shirt and jostling him, perhaps as though he could shake some sense into him once and for all. “I don’t get it, man,” Frankie intones. “Isn’t she everything you ever wanted?”

Santiago closes his eyes, the final smattering of tears beading in his long lashes. “I don’t know why I can’t…” His shoulders tug up as he sucks in a steadying breath and promptly releases it again, digging his closed fists into the sand before him. “I don’t. I just…” His eyebrows leap up in distress as he wrestles with the complexity. “I want to. I want to, but she’s better off without me. She doesn’t deserve all of my bullshit.”

“I don’t think she’s once tolerated any bullshit, hermano, least of all yours.” 

Santiago sees what his buddy is trying to do, but Santiago shakes his head forlornly from side to side. “I wouldn’t be good for her. Wouldn’t be good enough…” 

Frankie clicks his tongue. “She wants you. Don’t patronise her by thinking you know better.” 

“No. It’s too late. I fucked it. I… Shit.”

Frankie’s voice drops an octave. “I’ve been patient. But I’m tiring of your fucking excuses, man.” He does; he sounds tired. Everyone, always so tired of him. “Look ahead with me for a minute, alright?” Frankie gestures with a sweep of his arm through the air, as though Santiago could fix on a vision of the future before him. Instead, all he sees is a black, rolling sea, fringed with frayed white lace. A round disk of mellow light shining down through the night. “What do you see in your life? Christ - what’s your endgame? Getting shot in some fucking ditch?” Frankie swats Santiago’s arm with the back of his hand when he receives no reply, the man instead looking wistfully out over the water, his eyes as soft as the moon. “I asked you a question. So answer me. What’s your endgame? If you can’t even say it aloud, I can’t fucking help you.” 

“Her,” Santiago breathes, without looking away from the water. “Her. You know it is.” He scratches nervously over the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so in love, man. So gone for her I can’t fucking think straight.” 

“Right,” Frankie nods firmly, looking at Santiago unblinkingly from beneath his lashes. “So what the fuck are you going to do about it?” 

“I can’t just leave everything, Cat. Walk away and-” 

“-Can’t you?” Frankie smacks the back of his hand definitively against his own open palm. “I did. Tom. Will. She did.” 

Santiago actually scoffs then, as if something is funny. “Yeah. Yeah, Cat,” he concedes, pushing himself up from his hunched position in the sand, voice oddly taut. “You did.” Frankie stands with him, his chin raising as he defends from whatever low blow Santiago has brewing, a healthy dose of cynicism dripping from him already. “You did, and fucking look at you. You’re all a goddamn mess. A hot steaming pile of shit.” His eyes tighten with resolve, a solemnity shrouding his sharp features. “I can’t do that to her.” 

“Fuck you, man,” Frankie revs. “I’m good. I have a little girl on the way.” 

“Oh, please. Give me a break.” Santiago slices his hand through the air. “Tom’s eyes are fucking hollow. Selling fucking condos?” Frankie’s eyes flash with a rage and a sadness that seem to cancel each other out at first, and so he can all but listen as his buddy winds up his tirade. “Will - fucking Captain Miller - this burly bastard walking on eggshells because he’s afraid of flipping that switch and blacking out again. He choked a man out, no flag on his shoulder. Lost the love of his life. I thought those two were it, man. You’re scraping by on lines and don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Frankie’s head ducks down then, and he lets out an undone noise, something between a protest and a whimper. “Fuck, even Benny. The fucker gets beat to shit for fun. Do we sound fucking healthy to you, Cat? Is that how good it is getting out?” 

Frankie’s breaths are turbulent now. Santiago can see the familiar look of restraint on the man. Nostrils flaring, brow drawing down. The dark, formidable edge behind Frankie’s quiet exterior barely kept in check. He meets his gaze and he almost looks battle-drunk. On the offensive and ready to do whatever it takes to get off the backfoot. But, he reins it in. Swallows it down. Until all he delivers is a march forward, pacing Santiago backward, his finger jabbed into his chest and his words snarling directly against his cheek. “Fuck you, pendejo. You think you’re any better than us?” 

Santiago lets him have it. He’s not sure he has any fight left anyway. Isn’t sure he’d mind anymore if he got punched down into the dirt. 

“No. No, I don’t. That’s exactly my point.” Frankie searches his face, the knife in his keen eyes blunting to a wet sheen as Santiago lays it out in a small, fractured voice. “If you can’t do it, how in the hell can I make a go of it? I’m not the best of you. I’m so fucked up. I’ve got all this… fucking baggage. My mom. The nightmares. Lorea. The blood on my hands. I can’t be ‘it’ for her. I can’t. Because she deserves better. Deserves the fucking world, man.” 

Frankie clamps his hands down on Santiago’s shoulders, drawing back to look him squarely in the eyes. “Guess what? You’ll be fucked up in or out, trust me. But you may as well be fucked up with fewer bullets grazing your vitals daily, no?” 

Santiago shakes his head as if getting “out” is simply impossible. “I’m doing something, man,” he mutters, as if he can’t muster the strength to believe his own line anymore. As if all his old mantras are dead. Washed away in the sand. “I’m trying to do something down there.” 

“This mother’s homeland bullshit again?” Frankie really does sound eminently tired. Trust Santiago to hit on an argument within an argument, right? He can always twist just about everything. “Wake up call, Pope. You can’t fix it. You don’t even care if you fix it. You just want to keep fucking running.” 

Santiago tears away from Frankie’s grip, pacing in a small circle. “Fuck you.”

Frankie raises his palms in the air. As if he really is about to give up. What does he do if every one of his best friends gives up on him, Santiago thinks? “Fine. Whatever. That’s your shit, not mine. But look at it this way. You tell me you can’t walk away from that life. Look me in the eye and tell me this. You okay walking away from her?”

“She walked away,” Santiago spits, even though he scarce believes it any longer. Yes, you might have walked away. But he was the one who ran. “She was the one who-”

“-I don’t care!” Frankie yells, quickly losing patience, waving his palms of surrender around.  “I’m tired of this. Shit - I do not care about these little technicalities. Yeah. Okay. She left, right? She moved on, Santiago. Moved along the road. Life is moving on. Don’t blame her because you’re standing still, cabrón.”

Santi shifts his weight from foot to foot, swipes his palm back and forth over his mouth. “Fuck you, man, standing still my ass.” 

“Oh, what?” Frankie retaliates. “You can come at me but I can’t come at you?” Santiago’s expression is stark, all straight lines and angles and shadowed planes. “You stayed and for what? To spite her? To prove yourself right? Jesus, Pope. Lorea has you chasing your tail. You’re going round in circles. You fuck your problems away but you wake up and, hey, guess what? They’re still there. Still a big steaming stack of turds in the corner.” Santiago curses under his breath, spitting insults and deflections, but Frankie is undeterred. “And the worst thing is, you could fucking have it! You could have everything you want! What the rest of us wouldn’t give for that, pendejo.” 

“Right, yeah. Thanks for that assessment. I’m just a fucking chump, is that it?” 

“Hey, look. It’s you. I’m just saying what I see.” Frankie’s mouth curls into a tentative smile, yet the blow dealt by Santiago’s stony expression manages to dull it. 

“Asshole.” 

“Whatever. I’m done helping. You don’t want her? Fine. You don’t have to change a thing. Can drive her away all on your own, I’m sure.” 

A hard swallow bobs down Santiago’s corded neck, and he chews on some words before offering them up. “And if I do? Want her?” 

“If you do? Then, Christ. Stop moaning about it like a little bitch and do something about it.” Santiago’s face sours all over again, and Frankie holds his hands up once more in surrender. “I’ve tried the softly, softly approach, man. We’ve all got our own shit going on. It’s past time for a fucking intervention with you.” Santiago writhes his jaw, but there is no further protest from him. Eventually, he concedes with the barest of nods. Frankie braces his arm on his shoulder, his expression growing wistful. “I just want to see you happy, man. I gotta know that some of us can still be happy. Of all of us? She fucking deserves it. And, look. You deserve it too, alright?”

Tears ball in Santiago’s eyes. It’s been a long time since he felt like he deserved to be happy. A very long time. He concedes, with the barest of nods. “It’s… I’m….” He chucks out a breath, frustrated at his lack of ability to get his words out, his mouth and brows pinching together.  

“What? Spit it out.” Frankie gives his shoulder an encouraging jostle. 

Santiago looks him in the eyes, about to level with him. Perhaps upon seeing the vulnerability there, the pilot’s eyes soften. “I’m fucking… scared, man.” 

Frankie’s eyes tighten with a wistful mirth, and his hand slips up to curl around the back of Santiago’s neck in a brotherly embrace, emotion flooding the cracks in his grit-flecked voice, making it warm and robust. “Santiago. Idiota. The way she looks at you, man? You don’t have a damn thing to be scared about.”

Tears glisten in Santiago’s eyes once more, and Frankie draws him into a tight, enclosing hug. Santiago lets himself collapse into it, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s broad, slender torso. After a few moments, and an extra squeeze for good measure, Frankie draws back, still cupping the nape of his buddy’s neck. 

“Cool down and come back to the house okay?” Frankie encourages, eyes needling Santiago for an answer until he nods. “Look. You okay?” He nods again, more adamantly this time as Frankie soothes him, dipping his chin down and raising his brows to hammer home the seriousness of his inquiry. “Yeah? Not gonna do anything stupid? Santiago?” 

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll be okay.” 

Frankie drops his arms, evidently feeling somewhat reassured. Yet, with Santiago, the fact that he promises not to do anything stupid bears repeating. “What are you gonna do?” 

“I’ll take a walk,” Santiago nods, his face drawn down into stern lines. “I’ll come back to the house.” He regards his friend, his eyes still painted with concern. 

Santiago frowns. Scratches the back of his neck. “Listen. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Frankie grins, an element of deflection in it. “I’ll be okay.” He bumps Santiago in the shoulder with his fist. “Fuck you though.” 

“Yeah. Sounds about right. Listen, we gotta talk soon, huh?” 

The smile drops from Frankie’s face as he contemplates being the one placed under scrutiny. “Yep.” 

Santiago shuffles from foot to foot. “Will you…”

“Yeah,” Frankie reassures. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”  

“Love you, man,” Santiago calls, as Frankie turns on his heel. 

He calls back over his shoulder, walking a few backward paces. He comes to a halt a few metres from his friend. “Yeah, I know. Love you too.” 

“And… I’m sorry.” He had no right to drag Frankie’s shit into this. 

“Yeah. I know that too,” Frankie revs. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be if you ever say shit like that to me again. I’m too old for this bullshit, man.” Still, Frankie shrugs, indicating no hard feelings. “Anything else you want to say for yourself?” He juts his chin up. Watches Santiago struggle with the words, but allows him the time to pattern them out.  

“She said she wants to fucking marry me. Can you believe that? But… I’m not that guy, Cat. I’m not the picket fence guy. I…” A frown layers over his already stern face, and he gazes intently at a spot in the sand, mid-way between them. “I don’t want to be the guy who… ruins her life.” 

Frankie inhales deeply, letting the whole gust of breath go in one, puffing it out through his pouted mouth. He looks far too tired for this. “Fuck, I don’t know man. You’ve got so many hang-ups I could use you as a coat rack. But that doesn’t mean you’re not loved. And that’s enough, no? Picket fence doesn’t suit you? I don’t fucking know.” Frankie shrugs, palms tipped up towards the sky. “Shit. Have whatever kinda perimeter you want. Just -for Christ’s sake - make sure you put her on the right side of it. Don’t keep shutting her out.” 

“That’s some deep shit, Cat.” 

“Not just a pretty face, cariño.” 

Santi grins. 

“Now, are you done? I gotta fucking sleep.” 

Santiago nods, and watches as Frankie begins to turn away again. But, there must be something in Santiago’s face which causes him to think better of it. Instead, he surges towards the man, cupping the back of his head in his hand and planting a kiss to the middle of his forehead. The frown lingering there disappears. “I love you, asshole.” 

There are several things which bear repeating when it comes to Santiago.

“I know.” Santi stares intently at his feet. 

And, finally satisfied, apparently, Frankie seems willing to leave his buddy to it - granting him a moment to contemplate things alone. To contemplate you. To contemplate his words of advice. 

Santiago feels grateful for Frankie. Even feels bolstered for a moment, until he realises that what he’d assured him might not be true. That even a love that feels too abundant to bear? That it is not always enough. After all, you’d told him as much, hadn’t you? 

His love wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. 

Frankie walks away. 

Santiago will have to decide if he’s going to do the same. 

Or maybe he’ll run. 

After all. Isn’t that all he’s good for?

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Don't Hug Me Neighbor

《You and your friends find yourselves in a new Home.》

《Inspired By: [post] [post], fan artists as well》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin. DHMIS also obtains potentially disturbing content, be mindful.》

-

"I quite like this place!" Duck remarked, gazing through one of the opened windows from the house.

"Yeah, I do too, it's peaceful." Red Guy said, watching the sun rise from beyond the orange-colored sky of this new place.

You nodded at the two, settling yourself beside Yellow, asking him for his thoughts.

"I.. uh, I don't really know.." Yellow replied, the young boy yawns tiredly. His head rocking back and forth as he tries to stay awake with his family. You smile at Yellow, "well, let's explore later in the day, it's a bit early, isn't?" You said affectionately, picking up the puppet carefully as he snuggles into your neck.

"Hmp, I want to explore now." Duck whispers under his breath, but follows you and Yellow back to your rooms.

You pause, looking back at Red, asking him if he was gonna head back with you. Yet he remains silent, his focus on the outside world, much different from the one you all knew.

You tuck Yellow back in his bed, patting his messy blue hair before whispering reassuring words to see him when he woke up. Duck heads back into his bed as well, mumbling a sleepy "good-night".

You, however, don't go back to bed. Instead, creeping back downstairs to see Red still in the same place where you left him. His mind still elsewhere, hopefully somewhere happy, you hoped.

You open the fridge, clicking your tongue in distaste, peeved at the stains of blood decorating the inside. Opting to ignore it, you focus on a few items you needed to make a pleasant breakfast.

You were so thankful for the stove to be working today.

-

"I reckon if there's any coffee left," Red states, walking over to the fridge, but finding it empty.

"Is there?" Duck asks, looking through his crossword puzzle as Yellow happily munches on the crepes you made.

"No."

"Any in the pantry?" Red questioned you, watching you clean around the pantry door. "No, sorry. I guess will have to stalk up today for groceries."

"Oh yay! We- we can explore this place today!" Yellow cheered, Duck recoiled in disgust. "Close your mouth when you eat, it's rude to talk with your mouthful."

"Sorry..."

You throw away a red-color stained rag in the trash, coming over to Yellows side of the table. Wiping away the crumbs on his cheeks as Red brightens up at the idea of heading into the new environment.

"Yeah! It's evening now, I think we should be fine."

"Hmm, lemme finish this first," Duck says, looking over his puzzle. "What is a six-letter word for an action, but also a group of birds."

"It's a murder." Yellow says, you wince at the words, but dutifully take away the dishes from the table and place them in the sink.

"That can't be right..." Duck utters, scratching the tip of his pencil on his head.

"Can we please just cut away to the exploring bit, please."

-

[Taglist closed]

[Hiya! Thank you guys so much for such the positive comments! I need some more, I crave. Readings ya'lls reactions are the best and make it easier for me. Thanks! Art is always appreciated!]

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Pocket embraces her inner Karen (just a little bit)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Word on the street is that you and Steve are a Thing. You try to give Bucky a head's up that it's all bullshit, but he's not answering his phone. That can't be bad, right?! RIGHT??? 😬

A/N: Time for Pocket to set the record straight! (ALSO! Surprise, besties: Three updates tonight! - 445, 5, 515 EST)

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You’d never had an opportunity to meet Lisa Galvin, head of the PR firm that exclusively represented Stark Industries, but you figured that, if she could handle the public relations nightmare that was Tony Stark, you were obviously in good hands.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” Lisa said, rising to shake your hand as you were shown into her office, “it’s so lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard such good things.” Her firm’s suite was on one of the Tower’s mid floors, and was bright and spacious, but lacked any real sense of character or personal warmth. Given that Galvin & Associates represented all of Stark Industries, plus every Avenger, you kind of expected the space to be a bit more… colorful.

“‘Pocket’s fine,” you said, sitting down in the chair she offered you. “Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice.”

Lisa smiled. “My pleasure. Though, we wish you’d come to see us much sooner. In terms of a PR footprint, you’re practically a ghost! We could do so much for your public image, if you’d only let us, dear.”

You looked around, wondering who the ‘we’ was that she was referring to, as it was only the two of you in the room. “I actually prefer it that way,” you told her. “I highly value my privacy, and I took my job to create and innovate, not to become public property.”

Lisa pursed her lips, as though she could think of nothing more disdainful than wanting to remain out of the public eye. “Well, to each their own, I suppose,” she said, her voice betraying that she very much did not agree with you. “Now, what is it you wanted to meet about?”

“I’m sure that you’ve seen the articles by now,” you told her, something about her beginning to rub you the wrong way. “You wouldn’t be very good at your job if you hadn’t.”

“Ah, yes,” she replied, and if she heard the edge in your voice, she didn’t acknowledge it. “The ones about you and our very own Captain Rogers! Congratulations, I might add! Just delightful! What about them?”

“I want to issue a statement refuting them,” you said. 

Lisa looked at you as if you asked her if she wanted to go out and kill any and every puppy you could find. “But Pocket, my dear, why? You must understand that being romantically linked to one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire world– nay; throughout all of history can only increase your public approval ratings. Do you know how many of my clients would literally kill to have exposure like that?”

You widened your eyes. She was slightly scary, like a deranged Effie Trinket. “Well,” you began slowly, “first, there’s the fact that it’s not the truth. I am not now, nor have I ever been, romantically linked with Steve Rogers. And second, and most importantly, I’m deeply committed to someone else, and I don’t want him getting hurt by these lies.”

Lisa rolled her eyes at you. “My dear, in the court of public opinion, no one gives a damn about the truth. It’s all about optics. And given the public’s engagement with the articles that have been posted since the gala, the optics you and the Captain present together are divine.”

“Yeeeeaaaah,” you drew out, “I really don’t give a shit about optics. I’d just like the record to reflect the facts.” You leaned forward, putting your elbows on Lisa’s desk as you looked her in the eye. “And if you’re not going to do that for me, I’ll speak to Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark about finding a new firm for the company that can.”

You smiled your “did you forget exactly what my position was in this company?” smile; not one that you used very often, as it tended to give you the ick, but you felt it was more than appropriate, given the circumstances. It wasn’t uncommon for people to underestimate or dismiss you, or think they could intimidate you or bend you to their will due to your small stature or your relatively young age, or just because you were a woman. It didn’t hurt to give them an occasional reminder.

Lisa looked properly concerned. “Well, I – there’s no need for that!” she spluttered. “I see no reason Mr. Stark needs to be involved. It’s a simple matter of having you write out a statement, after all. From there, my associates will send it along the AP wire, and to the outlets that wrote the articles, asking for a retraction, or at the very least, that they publish your response.” She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a legal pad. Handing it to you, along with a pen, she said “Just write the basic sentiment you wish to get across, and my team will tweak it into something befitting a proper press release.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer to have my statement in my own words, thanks,” you said, before bowing your head and beginning to write:

While Ms. (Y/L/N) greatly values her friendship with Captain Rogers and admires all he has done for his country, she would like to clarify that they are not now, nor have they ever been, involved in a romantic relationship of any kind. Ms. (Y/L/N) is involved in a committed, long-term relationship with another party and kindly requests that her privacy in this arena be respected, and she be left to continue living her life as a private citizen.

“There,” you said, handing her the sheet of paper. “That should do it.”

Lisa looked it over and nodded her approval. “It will do,” she said. “It’ll go out straight away; I’ll do it myself.” You nodded and, thanking her for her time, stood and turned to leave. “Oh, Pocket, dear,” she called to you. You turned, wondering what more she needed from you. “Just for the sake of curiosity, when you wrote you were already in a long-term relationship, who were you referring to? Is it someone in the Tower? I only ask because it may become a relevant issue at some point in the future.” “James Barnes,” you told her proudly. You loved him, and you honestly didn’t care who knew it.

Lisa clutched her chest as if you were attempting to steal her pearls. “The Winter Soldier?! Oh, my dear– you better pray that little nugget never gets out, because if it does, you’ll be running back here in tears, begging me to fix your ruined public image.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[musings-of-a-rose]

I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter. I’m feeling very emotional about this one, as these 2 are my babies. This fic was the second thing I ever started writing AND my first series. I started it in November of 2021 and now I’m ending it in June of 2023. Thank you to everyone who has read it, left comments, reblogged it, talked about it off of Tumblr (I am still FLOORED that this has happened!). This is what keeps people creating. Even if you think you have nothing important to say, or if all you say is just a keyboard mash of letters, I can promise you ALL of it means the world to us. So I dedicate this fic to you, the reader. You’re the real star here and I can’t express my love enough. If you’re ever wanting more, I am always down to write one shots, drabbles, character insights, what ifs, etc for this fic (and any of my others).

Now excuse me while I go cry

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<&lt;Chapter 17

“You look so beautiful!” Olivia gushes over you after she tucks the last braid into place, watching you stand and do a little twirl in your white dress.

“You think so? It’s not too much?”

“Too much? Girl, it’s your wedding day. You can’t be too much!”

Smiling, you smooth out your dress as you take in your reflection. You’re marrying Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie, whom you’ve been in love with since you were 19. This is real. It’s happening.

Ok, technically, in the eyes of the law, it happened a few weeks ago at a courthouse. But there’s something special about gathering in front of your close friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, and getting to repeat those vows in front of everyone. A soft knock at the door brings you out of your head and Olivia walks across the room to peak her head outside. 

“Mosa, it’s the photographer. Are you ready for the first look?”

“It’s HERmosa!” Frankie’s muffled yell comes from behind the door and Olivia smirks. 

One last glance in the mirror at your reflection and you nod, turning your back towards the door. You hear some shuffling as Frankie is ushered in backwards and the photographers get into place. 

“Turn in 3..2..1..Turn!” Olivia says and then steps back.

You turn, your eyes finding his almost immediately, as if they were drawn there. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, fitting his form perfectly, his grandfather’s kerchief folded and poking from the pocket. But what you’re really interested in is his face, his eyes growing wider and glossier the longer he looks at you.

“Hermosa, you…you’re beautiful,” Frankie says, awestruck.

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say behind a smile.

“No, I mean I always knew but…wow.”

He walks up to you and cups your cheek, running his thumb across it as Olivia hisses something about makeup from the corner of the room. But you couldn’t care less. Frankie was here, marrying you. This is all you’ve dreamt of for well over 10 years. A tear runs down Frankie’s cheek and you wipe it away.

“Are you ok?”

He sniffs and smiles. “I’m the best I’ve felt in a long time. I just…I only wish we would’ve done this sooner.”

“We did. We got married in the courthouse, remember?” 

He smiles at you. “I meant more that we never…that we stayed together since that first kiss.”

“Me too. But we can’t dwell on what-ifs. We can only think about the here-and-nows.”

Frankie tips your chin up and presses a light kiss to your lips, the clicks from the camera going crazy. You pose for photos for several minutes before Olivia ushers everyone from the room, winking at you when she says she’ll give you 10 minutes of alone time before she came to get you. The second the door closes, Frankie pushes his tongue in your mouth, pulling you as close as he can. 

“I can’t mess this dress up, Frankie,” You say pouting.

“That’s ok. I can work with that.” Frankie grips your hips and spins you around, bending you over the back of the chair and clasping a hand to your mouth as he takes you, your hands desperately trying to reach behind you to pull him in closer. 

15 minutes later, Olivia knocks on the door and enters hesitantly, smirking when she sees you smoothing down your dress, Frankie’s face more pink than when she had left. 

“It’s time,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder and looking at Frankie pointedly. He turns to you and kisses your cheek.

“See you out there?”

“Raging sharks couldn’t keep me away.” 

He kisses you once more before Olivia starts clearing her throat. When he straightens up a curl falls on his forehead and you softly push it back to where it was, feeling Frankie’s eyes on you the entire time. He opens the door and looks outside befire turning back to you. 

“Your gift is here.”

“You don’t have to get me a gift, Frank-”

Santi walks through the door, dressed in a nice tux and smiling from ear to ear. You hadn’t seen him since the day he confessed his love for you and you had missed him terribly. Frankie was your best friend, but Santi was a close second and you’d hated the idea of getting married without him there.

“Santi?”

“Hey, Hermosa.”

You catch a glimpse of Frankie’s smile before he closes the door as you wrap your arms around Santi, feeling him squeeze you back just as hard. Separating a few moments later, you dab under your eyes as you try to choke back tears. 

“If I smudge my makeup, Olivia may kill me.”

Santi laughs. “She’s Benny’s girl, right? She’s perfect for him.”

“She’s really great…but how are you here?”

“I uh…Frankie called me a few weeks ago and told me…well, everything. I’m sorry I was screening my calls, Hermosa. I just…I needed time.”

“I understand. But…you’re here now! Are you ok?”

“I’m doing alright, Hermosa. Actually, pretty good.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about her.”

He laughs. “I will. But uh, hey - do you need a Man of Honor? If…if that would…be ok?”

“I would love to have to as my Man of Honor! But…Benny already agreed and I don’t know how to tell him -”

Santi waves his hand. “Benny was in on this. He knows and already said it was ok with him as long as you wanted it.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait. Benny knew you were coming and he didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

You gasp. “That bitch!”

Santi laughs his hardest yet. “So…”

“Let’s go, Man of Honor.”

The next thing you know, Frankie’s kissing you, everyone whooping and cheering, Aurelia throwing more flower petals into the air as they announce “Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” The rest of the night was like a blur, between photos and eating, first dances and cake, you barely had time to sit until things started to wind down long into the night. When you tried to help clean up, Olivia literally slapped your hand away and glared at you.

“Absolutely not. Benny!” He walks over and play groans when she says she’s recruited him to help clean up. She pretends to twist his nipple when he starts to complain and he yelps, high pitched and smiling as they play fight for a few moments before he gives in, grabbing plates and stacking them to wash. 

Frankie looks exhausted and he’s limping a little, so you beg him to not carry you over the threshold. “You did that when we got courthouse married.”

“Yeah but-”

“No. I’m not having you throw your hip out on our wedding day. Not from this.”

He chokes and smiles, giving in, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Alright. If you insist.” But by the time you’d made it upstairs and gotten your clothes off, both of you were too exhausted to do much of anything aside from a shower and literally fall into bed. But Frankie made up for lost time the next morning, waking you with what he claims was already your third orgasm of the day, his curls mussed up from being buried between your legs. He presses his body to yours, swallowing your whimpers before he adds his own, hips shaking with release. 

You spend your honeymoon at the Miller family cabin upstate, the only clothing you wear being one of Frankie’s shirts and sometimes his hat, which drives him wild. He celebrates another sobriety milestone while there, smiling wide at your praise. When you get back home, you can see he has an extra pep in his step, always a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, always wanting to touch you, whether a hand to your wrist, a touch to your lower back, or a smack on your ass, chuckling as you yelp and smack him back. When you ask him why he looks exceptionally happy, he credits you. “I finally got the girl of my dreams, the love of my life.”

—-

Frankie and you settle into a comfortable routine. You were no strangers to living together, the adjustment taking no time at all. Life goes on as normal, except now, you get to live it with Frankie, no longer separated by a stupid argument, misconceptions, or a bitch of an ex wife. This was exactly where you were meant to be. 

Several months later, Frankie follows you into the family restroom at Target, slinging your purse over his shoulder as he rifles through the bag of stuff you’d just purchased.

“Pink dye first, right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

“Yeah. They’re more accurate supposedly.” 

Frankie tears open the box and studies the directions, as if he hadn’t done this several times already. He opens one of the sticks and hands it to you, turning around to give you a little privacy. 

“Start the timer,” you say as you zip up your pants. Frankie hits go on his timer and turns to face you, a pregnancy stick held face down in your hand. He can see your nerves, your worry and concern on your face.

“It’ll be ok, Hermosa.”

“Yeah I know. But what if it isn’t?”

“It will be-”

“We’ve been trying for months, Frankie. I know the OB said to try for a year before fertility testing but-”

Frankie walks up to you and pulls you to him, applying a gentle pressure as he hugs you close, kissing the side of your head. “If it’s negative, then we keep trying, ok? It hasn’t been a year yet and sometimes these things take time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will told me that it took them months to conceive Liam. And they were trying too. Just…breathe. In….out…”

You breathe with him for a few breaths. “You always were annoyingly calm in a crisis.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t help to freak out behind the joystick.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but his timer cuts you off. Your mouth jams shut, nerves taking over your body as Frankie holds your gaze. 

“If it says negative, we can keep trying. Remember that. I love you no matter what, Hermosa.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You flip the test over and look, 2 bright pink lines staring back at you. Tears immediately fall as you laugh, turning the test around to show Frankie, who yells, grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly. He kisses you for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“I fucking love you, Hermosa.”

“I love you, Frankie.”

He yanks the door open and whoops loudly, people turning to look at him as you follow him out of the bathroom. 

“I’m going to be a father again!” He pumps his fists in the air, smiling from ear to ear as people cheer, clapping and congratulating you as they finish their purchases, one older couple handing you a gift card on their way out, telling you to spoil that baby. 

—-

Frankie was hesitant at first with your pregnancy, despite being so supportive and actually wanting a child with you. A couple months in, you finally ask him why he seems afraid to touch you, that you won’t break. He finally confesses to you that when Elizabeth was pregnant, she did nothing but yell at him, belittling him and wouldn’t let him touch her at all, not her belly, not even to rub her back or feet. She called him horrible names and would blame it on the hormones. Your heart breaks for him and you have no words. Well, you have words but they aren’t nice ones. Instead, you sit next to him on the bed, leaning back onto one arm, and take his hand with the other, gently placing it on your lower belly. His eyes light up as he looks at your tiny for the moment bump, tears welling in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to take the other side. He pulls your shirt up just enough to see your belly skin, giving it a tiny kiss.

“Hey, little one. You grow strong in there and don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

From then on, Frankie is all in. Whatever you need, he gets it, even if it’s a ridiculous request at 3am. He’s constantly touching your growing belly, talking to it as much as you do. He finds Aurelia’s old crib in the attic, a few boxes of baby stuff and a bassinet up there as well. He sets up the nursery under your instruction, letting Aurelia help with the decorations when she comes on the weekends. You decide to wait to find out the sex of the baby, thinking it would be something fun to do. So instead you call it “Bean”.

“Think Bean will like this?” Frankie asks, pointing to a baby swing. 

“They might, but Frankie, that swing is nearly $150. We can’t afford that.”

His shoulder’s slump but he agrees. “Maybe we can check the thrift shop. It’s the one thing Will didn’t toss our way.”

He was there for all of the classes too, birthing ones, breathing ones, even the hypnobirthing ones. He signed up for a “birthing partners” class, learning the best ways to support you not just during labor and delivery, but during the 4th trimester, or immediately postpartum. He helped you practice your meditations, making sure you had everything you needed and that you remember to take your prenatal and drink enough water. 

When you’re 8 months pregnant, getting winded from walking down the hall, Frankie gets a call from his boss at Flyboyz on his day off, asking him to come in. He grabs his hat and gives you a quick kiss before leaving, reminding you to drink water. He’d been working a lot lately, trying to make extra money so he can stay home with you and the baby for the first month. You’re not sure how long he’ll be gone, so you plop yourself down on your bed, pulling over the basket of baby clothes that still have to be sorted and you get to work, separating the sizes, long sleeve vs short, nightgowns from onesies. A couple hours later, the front door opens and Frankie slams it behind him, the picture frames rattling on the walls. You set aside the footie pajamas you were folding and go to stand up, but Frankie comes storming into the bedroom before you can move, anger coming off of him in waves.

“Frankie?”

He yanks his hat from his head, tossing it onto his dresser, knocking some things off of it. “I can’t fucking believe her!”

Struggling a little, you manage to get up and cross the room to him, placing your hand on his mid back. He recoils, anger flashing in his eyes but it’s not directed at you. Unsure of what happened, you know he needs to calm down before he can tell you. You grab an ice cube out of your glass of water and turn to Frankie.

“Give me your hand.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Just do it.”

He stares at you for a moment before shoving his hand out. You flip it palm up, opening his fingers and place the ice cube in his palm. He yelps, but you hold his hand firmly so he won’t drop the ice.

“What the fuck, Hermosa?”

“The cold will help reset your nervous system.”

“I don’t think- it’s too fucking cold, Hermosa.”

“Just another few seconds.”

His chest, which had been heaving a moment ago, has slowed down, the anger still there but at a manageable level. You tip his hand and grab the falling ice into your own palm, putting it in the sink in the bathroom before coming back to the bed and trying to sit on it. Frankie is there, taking your hand and helping you into bed. He goes to stand but you squeeze his hand and pull him until he sighs, sitting on the edge, his shoulders slumped.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking angry, but…the edge is gone. Ice…who fucking knew?”

“So..may I ask what happened?”

His eyes darken with repressed outrage. “I thought I was getting extra work. Instead, my pilot’s license has been suspended, pending a review.”

You sit up quickly, eyes going wide. “What??”

He nods, his jaw clenching. “Apparently, someone made a claim that I was using when I flew some clients and now they have to investigate.”

You knew that Frankie had been clean over a year, that he wasn’t using at all. “Oh, Frankie. Wait..who made the claim?”

He looks at you. “It was anonymous but I know it was Elizabeth.” He says her name with absolute disgust and hate that you nearly pull back from him. 

“Elizabeth? Would she-”

“Oh come on, Hermosa. You don’t think it was her? I’ve been clean for well over a year. She’s the only one who would have known that I used that would make claims.”

“What about Rick?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nah. He left Flyboyz while you were…out of town. I told him he had to leave or I would report him for selling. He started to threaten to bring me down with him, but then remembered you were…not in my life and he could see the rock bottom in me, I guess. So he backed off, just left to go elsewhere. There’s no way it’s him. It’s her. It’s always her causing shit. I’m so fucking sick of it!”

Placing a hand on his back, you start to rub it, adding in little scratches here and there like he likes. “She is a bitch.”

“I just got my license back. I worked so hard on that.” He puts his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. You scoot towards him wrapping your arm around him. 

“I know you did. But you said suspended? That doesn’t mean revoked, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“It means, I can’t fly until it’s reinstated. I have to pee in a cup at random times during the week for 6 months to prove I’m clean before they will lift the suspension.”

“Well there you go!”

He looks up at you, his eyebrows pulling together. “There I go, what? We can’t afford for me to not have this income, Hermosa.”

“We’ll be ok-”

“You’re about to have a baby. Your income won’t happen for a bit, and that’s fine, but we needed this extra money and now I can’t provide that. All because of my bitch of an ex!”

“Frankie, we’ll be ok. If we have to borrow money, we can.”

“I’m not borrowing money.”

“Fine. Then I will borrow it.”

“No, I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Frankie-”

“Just…can we just stop for tonight? I’m trying to process this.”

You open your mouth to argue but then see the exhausted look on his face. “Sure. Why don’t you come talk to us? That always makes you feel better.”

Leaning back against the headboard, you watch as Frankie scoots up the bed, getting level with your belly as you turn on your side so you’re not being squished. He chats to the baby for a while, about everything and nothing and by the time he’s done, his shoulders are relaxed and he’s not as angry anymore. 

Elizabeth never fully admits to being the one to make the claim, but you see the look on her face through the car window when you make your next exchange for Aurelia after Frankie confronts her and you know she did it. There’s nothing you can say or do except wait it out. Frankie getting his license back will be all the revenge you’ll need.

—---- (Skip to the next line if you don’t want to read about labor. It’s not terribly graphic at all, but I know it’s not everyone’s thing)-------

“I never thought I’d have to beg you to have sex with me!” You stomp your foot, furious that Frankie won’t follow the doctor’s advice. 

It had been a few weeks since his license was revoked and you were a week past your due date and not happy about it.

“Hermosa, I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know, I know. But the midwife even said that sex is the best way to induce labor because of the prostaglandins in your semen.”

“You make it sound so sexy.”

“Frankie,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep sigh. “I am the size of a house. I am miserable and sweaty and I haven’t seen my feet in months and I just want to have this baby already. If it’s my belly, I can turn around-”

“You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Then please?”

Frankie studies you for a long moment, his shoulders starting to slump and that’s when you knew you had him. “Alright, fine. We can try it. But we’re going slow, taking our time, ok?”

“No arguments here.”

Contractions started within an hour of Frankie cumming inside of you. You weren’t sure at first what you were feeling, but it sort of felt like a bad period cramp, so you assumed this must be it. Frankie timed them all for you, helping you breathe as they got more intense and closer together, and when they were close enough apart, Frankie helped you to his truck and drove to the hospital. In between contractions, you watched him as he drove, expertly winding his way through traffic, a look of focus on his face, a little furrow between his brow the only indication that this was not a normal day behind the wheel. How lucky you were to have this man, who can be calm in stressful situations, want to spend his life with you. 

“What?” Frankie glances sideways at you before turning back to the road.

“You’re cute when you focus.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Remember how cute I am when you’re in transition.”

Before you know it, you’re in a labor and delivery room, barely spending any time in triage before they whisked you away. Hospitals can be a frustrating place to have a baby. Each nurse walks in and tells you to rest between contractions, try to get some sleep when you can, but then a new nurse comes along within an hour, always rousing you from sleep to take your blood pressure or put their fingers where you didn’t want them. You’d finally had enough of the latter and told a nurse to kindly fuck off, and denied internal exams unless it was a medical emergency. Frankie was by your side the entire labor, putting counter pressure on your hips when you needed it, pulling your hair from your face, sneaking you snacks because they forbid food and you said you’d chomp off your own fingers if they didn’t let you eat. Transition was hard, but all of a sudden, you knew it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours, taking your calming breaths, but then realizing that Frankie was not next to you. Turning your head, you see him, wide eyed and backing towards the door.

“I’ll just-” He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“No, please. I need you here with me.” Another contraction has you breathing again and it’s a minute before he replies.

“You want me here?”

“Yes. I need you, Frankie.” 

His eyes start to water over and it doesn’t occur to you then, but later that night it’l come to you - he wasn’t trying to dodge out of the delivery. He was having a flashback to when Elizabeth kicked him out of the room right when Aurelia was making her way into the world, and your heart hurt all over again. Frankie is at your side in an instant, turning to yell for the nurse who had surprisingly not come in for some random check.

“No time!” You yell, letting out a low groan, a technique you learned to help move baby down and out. Frankie’s face slides into focus mode and he moves behind you, just in time to catch the baby as it comes sliding out. He gathers the baby up, holding it close as it screams into the world. The nurse comes running in then, having heard the baby crying as you turn onto your back, arms outstretched to hold your baby, skin to skin.

“Baby is here! I didn’t even know you were transitioning! You were pretty quiet.”

The nurse bustles around and does her thing while Frankie transfers the baby to your bare chest. Tears stream down your face as you look at Frankie, who has tears of his own. He kisses the top of your head. “I am so proud of you, Hermosa.”

A few moments pass, the baby calming against your chest. “Hey Frankie? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to look! I was so focused on catching the baby and whether it was breathing and not dropping it that I don’t think I looked! Here.” He lifts the hip of the baby and smiles.

“We have a son. I have a son!”

—---No more labor/delivery details—---

Luis Christian Francisco Morales was born perfect. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, skin glowing. He was the perfect combination of you both, although you say he favors Frankie mostly. 

You both settle into your roles as new parents, a lot of it being new to Frankie too, since Elizabeth had denied him so much. He was determined to not miss out on things this time, making sure you both had everything you needed and watching Luis when he stayed awake between feeds so you could have a nap. Aurelia cries the first time she sees Luis, big ugly sobs, and when Frankie finally calms her down enough to ask what’s wrong, she simply says “He…he’s…s-so so cute!” She happily takes up the mantle of “Big Sister” when she’s with you. Once, you wake from your nap only to find all 3 of them sleeping, Luis curled up on Frankie’s broad chest, Aurelia tucked onto his other side. You snap a photo and then quietly leave the room, taking the time to actually shower. 

About a month in, Frankie comes back from dropping Aurelia with her mom. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion as he stares down at his phone.

“Everything ok?” You ask, shifting the bottle you were feeding Luis with so it was a better angle.

“Yeah. Uh…Santi just texted me.”

“Oh yeah? Everything ok?”

“Uh..he says congrats on Luis, that he’s the cutest, and that he was out of service for a bit and he’s sorry he didn’t text earlier.”

“That’s ok. I know he’s busy.”

Frankie is quiet for a moment. “He offered me some work.”

“Work?”

“Well, not just me. Benny, Will, and Tom too.”

“What kind of work?” When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him. He kicks his shoes off and sits next to you on the couch. 

“Consulting.” His eyes don’t meet yours, focusing instead on his fingers, where he starts to pick at the skin around his nails.

“Consulting.” You say in disbelief. 

“Yeah.”

“Wait, like a mission?”

Frankie shrugs. “No? I mean, it’s just scoping out a place and looking for weaknesses. We give our report to the government he works with and then come back. Easy peasy.” 

“If it’s so easy peasy, why aren’t you looking at me?”

He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before looking at you. “It’s for a week. Just trying to find holes in a fence.”

“And why do they need you?”

“They need a pilot.”

“You don’t have your license.”

“It probably doesn’t matter over there.”

“Frankie, I don’t-”

“I’ts $17k, Hermosa. We need the money.”

“I don’t like it. So much can go wrong. Who’s house is it? Definitely no one that’s a stand up citizen. What happens if they find you first? No, I don’t like it.”

“Just..he’s coming to town tomorrow and we’re going to chat about it at Benny’s fight. Let me ask some more questions.”

“I don’t like it, Frankie.”

“I know. Just..let me talk to Pope.”

—----

It’s late the next night and you start to pace the floor of your bedroom, wondering when he’ll be back. He’d texted you to tell you Benny had won the fight and they were stopping at the bar for a quick drink before Olivia takes him home to play nurse. 

That had been 2 hours ago.

The door finally opens downstairs and you quietly make your way to the kitchen, where you were hearing Frankie move around. 

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head. “I was awake. Luis is asleep.”

“Good, good. He go down ok?”

“Yeah, actually in his bassinet, but Frankie? How did it go?” 

He gets a glass of water, chugging half of it before setting the glass down on the counter. “It’s just a recce. No live fire.”

“There’s a possibility of people shooting at you??”

“I mean, we are casing a place. It’s always possible if guards see you or-”

“No.”

He looks at you. “Hermosa, we need the money.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a job. We need this.”

“No money is worth your life, Frankie. None of your lives.”

“I won’t be in any major danger. I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have a family then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, no.”

Frankie puts his hands on his hips, cocking one hip back as he looks at you. “We’re behind on bills.”

“So? I’ll borrow some money and you can stay.”

“Hermosa-”

“Or I can get another job? A new client. I can-”

“You just had a baby, so no.”

“Then I can-”

“Hermosa.” He says it firmly, that hip still cocked back as his eyes find yours, resolve in them.

“You’ve…you’ve already said yes, haven’t you?”

His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. “We leave Thursday.”

Silence stretches between you both as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made that decision without me.”

“I made the decision for us. We need the money.”

“Oh, fuck you and the money! I said I could borrow it. You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m taking responsibility! We needed money and this just happens to come our way? I have to take it.”

“So you’re saying it’s fate that Santi texted you to lure you down there with the promise of $17k? You’re telling me that it’s just consulting and nothing else? Can you promise me that?”

He shrugs. “That was the original deal.”

“But can you promise me?”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’m going, Hermosa.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind you, wishing you could slam it. 

The next couple days were torture. You kept trying to convince Frankie to stay, convince all of them to stay. You didn’t want any of them going. But they all said the same thing that Frankie said. “It’s just consulting.” Thursday morning, Tom comes to pick up Frankie pretty early. He leans over to kiss you in bed and you take one more shot at trying to get him to stay. Your fingers wind into his curls as you pull him to you, deepening the chaste kiss he had started. 

“You can still stay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be back in a week, Hermosa. I love you.”

Tears streaming down your face, you reply. “I love you too. Please don’t die. Don’t any of you die.”

Frankie chuckles. “We’ll be fine. I’ll call you in a couple of days once we’re settled, ok?”

—----

Except, Frankie did not call in a couple of days. Neither did any of the others, nor had they reached out to Stacy, Molly, or Olivia. There was no one to call, no contact. They needed it that way for whatever consultation they were on. Stacey brought the kids over and Olivia came too, all of you opting to stay together and support each other at least during the day. As the few days stretched into a week, which stretched into nearly another, Olivia split her time between you and Stacy’s, offering to watch the kids so you each could have a moment to yourselves. She was at Stacy’s tonight, Luis snuggled and tucked in beside you as you channel surf the tv, landing on nothing in particular. It was day 10 and about 2am so all of the infomercials were on. You landed on one for some random kitchen gadget when your phone rings. You jump, grabbing for your phone to quickly hit the silent button before it wakes Luis. It was an unknown number, but definitely foreign and so you pick up right away.

“Frankie?”

“Hermosa,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his voice wavering on the last syllable of your name. 

“Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Fuck, I’ve been terrified out of my mind.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things got…out of hand. I can explain more when I get home.”

“I understand. But you’re ok?”

“I’m ok. A little banged up but ok.”

“Everyone else?”

The way he’s silent has your throat closing up, making it difficult to speak. “Frankie?”

“It’s Tom.”

While Tom and you never were best friends, there’s no way you would’ve wished death on the man, nor would you have wanted to have his girls without a father. 

—----

Frankie’s mom takes Luis while you drive to the airport, there to pick up Frankie as Olivia and Stacy were going to get Benny and Will. You had experienced all of the emotions these past 10 days, mostly anger and fear, but when you heard his voice, a part of you caved. You just wanted him home and were grateful that he was alive.

You spot Benny first, towering over a majority of the crowd as people file out security and head towards baggage claim. Then you see it - a dark blue standard heating oil cap bobbing next to Benny and suddenly, you’re running, pushing people out of the way as you run towards him, Frankie seeing you at the last moment, dropping his bag to gather you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Olivia and Stacy copy your actions, Will hissing when Stacy throws her arms around him. He mutters “I’m ok.” before pulling her to him. Pulling back, you look up into Frankie’s black brown eyes, taking in all the features of his face, his laugh lines, the spot where his one dimple pops up, the fact that he had the audacity to shave his beard. 

“You shaved,” you said simply, running a finger along his jawline.

“Yeah. But I’ll grow it back just for you.”

His lips crash to yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face as you press your body against his, fingers twisting in his shirt. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathe out between kisses.

“Fair enough.”

Hugs were exchanged all around before everyone went to their homes. On the drive home, Frankie tells you everything, how it was just a consult but then they decided to try and do it themselves, how it would’ve all been fine if they hadn’t missed their window, or if Tom had listened when he said it was too much weight for the helicopter. 

“Wait..you crashed?” 

“Yeah. It was just a little crash.”

“Frankie!”

“It’s me. I landed us…mostly fine. We all walked away.”

He explains about the money and the people from the village, and how they had to trek up the fucking Andes mountains and down the other side. How a young man from the village had wanted revenge and got it, dying himself in the process. How they carried Tom down the side of the mountain, leaving a ton of money there, only to make it to safety and come back with a new chopper to get the money and safely make it back in a whole other country, which is where he called you from. By the end of the story you’re silent, tears quietly falling down your face as you realize how easily they all could’ve died on the side of those mountains. How one of them did. 

“We each put about $5mil in a trust fund for Tom’s girls, made sure Molly was taken care of. It’s what Tom would’ve wanted and it’s…it’ll never be enough.”

“Hey,” you squeeze his thigh and he looks at you, tears on his cheeks. “You are not to blame. Every one of you knew what you were doing, knew there were risks. And while I can’t say who shot first as I wasn’t there, Frankie, it was self defense. And, I’m sorry, but knowing you and knowing Tom? I’d bet money on him shooting first.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah I guess so…. are you mad at me still?”

“I was all prepared to be so pissed at you, but honestly? I’m just glad to have you here and alive.”

Frankie spends the next hour between your legs and you spend the hour after that washing his hair and tending to his arguably minor wounds. Once you were clean and dressed, you made him something to eat, as you’d have to go get Luis shortly. When you set his glass of water down, he grips your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to call your sponsor?”

He shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. I think I’m just so grateful to be alive. And there’s one more thing.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

Frankie leans in closer, speaking low in your ear. “We got the rest of the money.”

“The $17k?” You said stupidly.

Frankie smiles and shakes his head. “A lot more than $17k.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Millions, Hermosa. Each. Millions. We’re set for life, as are Luis and Aurelia.”

“Can we stay here?”

Frankie chuckles. “What?”

“I don’t want some giant mansion. I want to stay here. In our house.”

Frankie smiles and kisses you lightly. “We can do whatever you want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Besides take care of my family?”

“Besides that.”

“Once I get my license reinstated, I want to start my business.” His eyes light up as he talks about it, how he had already looked into getting retired choppers, and had gathered up some possible contacts, even scouted out some property. The only thing that had stopped him was the money, which was no longer an issue. 

—----

6 months later, Frankie’s license gets reinstated, the owner clapping him on the shoulder and apologizing for everything. A month later, Frankie opens Chopperz, his veteran owned and operated helicopter tour business. It’s a instant success - apparently people really want to experience flying in various retired military equipment being flown by actual veterans. He even has repeat customers, although a lot of them are women and you catch more than one of them blushing when he talks to them. 

Will and Stacy build a new house, much bigger to fit their expanding family, ecstatic that they were finally having a girl. He quits giving speeches almost immediately, staying home with his family and helping Frankie out when he needs it. 

Benny and Olivia confessed that they had actually gotten married the day after Benny’s last fight, not able to wait any longer. When he came home, they took off to travel the world while their dream house was being built just down the road from Frankie and Will. 

Santi went to Australia to find Yovanna and her brother, following them around until they got settled. He and Yovanna stayed together for a while, and he took some time for himself, wandering the world to see things when he wasn’t in a uniform. He eventually came back, building a house down the road from Frankie and the Millers. But to his first get together with everyone, he brought a girl, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone, but you could see the way he looked at her, constantly touching her lightly, pressing kisses to her head, shoulder, lips, anywhere he could. And she was doing the same, her eyes lighting up every time they looked at each other, so when you asked him later, away from everyone else, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he thinks she’s the one, that she gets him, understands him, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about his money, which she didn’t even know about until now.  

Frankie and you were finally happy, after all these years. Elizabeth finally stopped her shit, leaving you and Frankie to be happy and only communicating when it regards Aurelia. Instead of moving, you decide to expand your house, adding another couple of bedrooms because you want to eventually expand your family. Frankie is beyond happy, smiling at Luis and Aurelia as they run around their new treehouse in the backyard, feeling you wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his broad back before moving to stand next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you both watch your kids.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, turning your head up to him.

“How happy I am. How I wish we had started this all sooner, that it didn’t take such a shitty road to get here, and that it didn’t take us this long.”

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him to you as you kiss him, his soft lips lightly nibbling at yours. 

“I’ll always wait for you, Frankie.”

—----  

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989

[gettinshiggywithit]

Hhiiiii I love ur work !! Can I request for bsd poe with a s/o that's an artist and sometimes likes to draw scenes from his writings and shows him <333

!Poe With An s/o Who’s an artist!

Scenario:- poe with an s/o who draws

Pairing:- Edgar Allan Poe x gn!reader

Genre:- fluff

Type:- Headcanons

A/N:- Hiyaa anon! Thanks for the request! I hope you like it and if you feel comfortable please let me know what you thought abt it!

Poe may call himself a detective,but i think we all know that his ability to create worlds with words is what makes him special

When you first met and he found out you too were an artist(one of the drawing kind) he wanted to know all about your hobby

And naturally you wanted to know about his writing too,especially since it connected to his ability!

After a little time had passed and you’d grown totally comfortable with eachother,you openly shared your art without fearing judgement from either party.

One thing You loved to do was read poe’s work and then draw what had manifested itself in your mind as you read

And when you were done,youd ask him to take you into his story so you could both see how accurate youd gotten.

If you were spot on you’d jump and cheer and poe would find it totally adorable how such a simple thing brought you so much joy😭

But if you missed even a smol thing or if your rendition was completely different,youd want to figure out where it had gone “wrong”

And even though you strived for perfection in your art(its one of the many things you shared in common) poe would make sure to let you know that it was perfect as it was.

Sometimes you contemplated turning his stories into comics

It would be a way to combine both your skills!

And when you finally told poe he agreed (INSIDE,BUDDY WAS JUST WJSIEHEVWGAJBWBEBSBY-ed OUT!HE EVEN RANTED TO KARL ABT HOW HAPPY IT MADW HIM)

You both got to work on a story then

And when i say you both got to work,i mean he wrote it,then you both went and experienced it and afterwards you illustrated your adventure!

Obviously you gave your characters different names,but anyone who knew the two of you,knew that those characters couldn’t be anyone else other than you!

Poe loved that you were able to mix the things that made each of you happy,and he loved how easy it was.how natural it felt.

Poe may have had the ability to draw a reader into the world of a novel,but you were able to draw the world of a novel,out for a reader.

And although your talents were different while also being the same,they both meshed together perfectly.

Much like you had with him

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

Taglist open for anyone interested!

[nekoannie-chan]

Building

Character: Brock Rumlow.

Word count: 127 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Brock is thinking about the mission on the Triskelion.

Major Tags: Overthinking.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @catws-anniversary CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Event with the prompt:

"The Triskelion."

@saiyanprincessswannie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The Triskelion had always seemed like an impressive building to Brock, not to mention that it had all the equipment he could dream of, but the place was also going to complicate the next mission they had; they had to stop Rogers, and... he wasn't sure what the next part was. Pierce's instructions hadn't been entirely clear about whether to kill him or keep him alive to create another HYDRA soldier.

Brock was confident they could catch him, but if not, they were going to have to call in the Soldier. He was sure that would work.

They had to be cautious; otherwise, things would get out of hand.

So far, practically all of his missions have gone as planned; he didn't want this one to fail.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

L’histoire secrète de la mer /// Prologue

Hello! Instead of posting another chapter of my Kili fic, I've decided to do a Kay POV for all you Fili lovers out there because my mans is atrociously underrated. For anyone who has already read my Kili fic, you will notice most chapters are the exact same except for the POV change, but I have rewritten quite a few since they were directed to what Kate was experiencing. But apart from that, I hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Fili x oc/reader - Kili x oc (for this POV fic visit my navigation) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 267

Warnings: None

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Soon available on Wattpad and AO3

Prologue // Chapter 1 >

Prologue

Aequoreal (Definition): Marine; oceanic. (Adjective / Origin: Latin-English / ee-KWOR-ee-uhl / iˈkwɔriəl )

Isengard – 2764 of the Third Age (1164 Shire Reckoning)

“How can you know? These visions of yours could be just a fantasy, something your mind created to entertain whilst you reside in this mortal realm.”

“Saruman I can assure you this is not something to be swept aside!” Gandalf exclaimed, almost desperately. “For me to dream, let alone one so vividly and recurrently; it has to be some sort of sign!”

“Yet you dream of the impossible.” Saruman replied sharply. “Creatures not of Middle Earth? There is no evidence to prove the existence of another dimension. And you say they will come here? Absurd!”

“Saruman—”

“I will not discuss this any further Gandalf.”

“But I can sense their power. They retain magic that would take a millennia for any of us to even begin to comprehend—“

“Unless you return baring physical proof of your.. theories, I will not waste anymore time dwelling on a vision you had during some nap of yours. During the highly unlikely chance that they do exist, it will be discussed how big of a threat they are.

"But—"

"If they prove to be a danger to Middle Earth, they will be taken care of how I see fit. Do you understand?”

Gandalf sighed, exasperated, before nodding reluctantly at his superior’s commands. Turning on his heel, he practically stormed out of Orthanc, his muttering and grumbling echoing within the dark halls.

Within minutes he was back on his horse, the feeling of Saruman‘s eyes burning into his back as he galloped away from the towering citadel of Isengard into the forest beyond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

Prologue // Chapter 1 >

Return to Fic Masterlist

Return to Navigation

See you at some point for Chapter 1! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

Taglist: @opheliasdrowningg

(Message me if your tag isn’t working)

[dc418writes]

🚨Announcement!!🚨

✨Hey everyone! Hope these first four months of 2023 are treating you well and you’re taking care of yourselves☺️💕

So as some may know, my last announcement basically centered on the fact that I would no longer be doing taglists since it was beginning to be a lot trying to keep up with who wanted to be tagged for what celeb/series. I also decided that I would then rely on the notification feature as a way to let you guys/anyone interested know I posted.

Since that change, I’ve posted 3 stories (if I remember correctly lol) and noticed interactions (be it comments, likes, reblogs) have gone down tremendously, which has me concerned.

For those who did elect to turn on my notifications I just want to know if you’ve been properly made aware that I’ve posted (like it’s supposed to do) or if it’s not sending out anything. Down below I’ll put a poll (justfor 24 hours) where you guys can answer that question for me. Or if you want to send me a private message that’s fine too!

I honestly debated on making this since I didn’t want it to come across as me just complaining about not having as much likes/reblogs like I used to, or make anyone feel guilty if they decided not to have notifications for my page (I promise it’s fine😊). But as stated earlier, I’m genuinely concerned that maybe there might be something wrong with my page and I may just need to try something else (i.e creating a new page, reinstating the taglist..), or if all this is just something else at work.

So if you don’t mind, please answer the poll below (AGAIN: just for those who HAVE notifications for my writing page turned on/wanted to try to turn notifications on) and if anyone has any ideas or suggestions please feel free to let me know☺️!

@celestianstars @stargirlfics @fumbling-fanfics @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @adoreyouusugar @lovebittenbyevans @royalwriteroftheuniverse @theartisticqueen @chrisevans-world @literaturelove @ivorylei @elrw24 @pono-pura-vida @yinx1 @justile @sunsetfreedom05 @jackiekae @luvingmyships @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @bekinds @maxcullen @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

[ro-is-struggling]

Tag list!

Sooo by popular demand (like 4 people) I'm going to open a tag list for my fics so you guys can be updated whenever I post a new fic of you fav character(s)

I don't really think anyone wants to be notified of all the fics I post, so I'm going to make a separate list for each character(*). YOU CAN BE ON MORE THAN ONE LIST if you are interested in more than one character. To know the full list of characters I write for go to THIS POST

To avoid any possible problems or misunderstandings, I will also divide the taglists into SFW/NSFW/BOTH. If you like a character and you want to read what I write, but you don't want to read smut, you can join the sfw list. On the other hand, if you are not interested in the angst or fluff I write and only want to read smut, you can choose to be on the nsfw list. If you don't have a problem with either, I can put you on a general character list and you'll get notifications when I post any fic of that character.

An important detail to note is that to be on the NSFW TAG LIST, or to be tagged in smut in general, you MUST HAVE SOME AGE INDICATOR ON YOUR BLOG so I know you are of age. Normally I don't have the time to check all the blogs that interact with my smut (because they tend to be more than the ones that normally interact with my fics, you little freaks), but in this case being a small group of blogs I will carefully check the blogs and/or message you to make sure you are over 18 years old.

To be added to any list of your choice all you have to do is COMMENT on this post or send me an ASK/PRIVATE MESSAGE detailing which characters you want to be notified for and your content preference (sfw/nswf/both). Remember you can be on multiple lists at the same time!

If at any time you want to stop being notified about my posts, all you have to do is send me an ask/private message and I will remove you from the list without any problem!

Please, before you sign up for the taglist remember to make sure all your account settings allow you to be tagged in posts correctly, otherwise I won't be able to notify you of my posts.

Also, I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you change your user so I can replace it on the list!

(*) Regarding series or multichapter fics: since I don't usually write fics with more than one or two parts (currently I only have two ongoing multichapter fics) I didn't see the need to create separate taglists. For now, if you are on a character's taglist and I happen to create a multichapter fic about them I will tag you and if you don't find interest in that particular story you can send me a message and I will stop notifying you when I upload a new part of that specific story (but I won't remove you from the general character list).

(*) IMPORTANT NOTE: if you already sent me a message at some point asking me to tag you in a specific character's fics, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN. I already have you on the list and I will continue to include you with the new people that join.

[turquoizxe]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐢𝐳𝐱𝐞 [𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬]

Welcome to my writing blog! I go by Turquouizxe online, a content creator that favors The Arts (Drawing, Writing, etc.). Here is a list of the rules that occur on my blog (*SUBJECT TO CHANGE):

As of 20 November, 2024

To everyone, old and new readers. I have a rather busy life outside of my work. I go through hiatuses multiple times throughout the year. Outside of being a content creator, I am still in school, juggling two jobs, and participating in organizations. This wasn't an issue before, but just to be sure: Please do not rush my work. I know my consistency isn't where I want to be, but this is my page, and I will post when I want and feel comfortable doing so. I will be explicit when I plan hiatuses or any other important updates. I also post dates for my work as well! (As of 10/16, I am considering starting to post previews to my works to maintain some type of consistency)

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER WEBSITES, if you are looking to translate my works, please send me a dm and we can set up some rules.

When I host Q&A, explicit posts about my life are prohibited, I do my best to keep my personal life away from my audience to keep boundaries. Any life updates you'll likely find on my Artist blog on TikTok @turquoizxe.

I mainly write for afab, 'x reader' audiences, though I am always open as it can always change. I always make the reader ambiguous in description unless stated otherwise. I write fluff and smut content, and my writings will contain many things as I continue to develop this blog. I stated that anyone younger than [17+] should not interact with my content, as I deal with a multitude of mature topics in my writing, mildly suggestive content is reserved for the [17+] 'Mature' tag. The [18+] 'Adult' tag is exclusively for my fics that contain graphic smut/sexual content. I am currently developing an account on AO3, though it will be used exclusively for works that usually consist of 20,000+ words. I hope to make enough time to create a mini-novel series like I used to during my Wattpad days, but for now, I am doing my best with what I can do as I have a life outside of my writing.

I DO NOT write stories that deal with extreme kinks such as scat, piss kink, or relationships depicted with minor/pedo, bestiality, and real people outside of the roles they play in the entertainment industry.

I don't open room for requests that often, and I usually only open them for a short period. This is because life gets busy and I don't want to make any promises to anyone. I usually let people know when my requests/faq are open.

I reserve the right to block those who comment rudely to other readers or even my work. Critique and being an asshole are two different things, and I am an advocate for creating a safe space for all readers and writers alike.

If you would like to be added to any tag lists of mine, this is particularly geared for the series that I write on AO3; comment a hashtag with the title of the series with an additional 'taglist' mentioned within the hashtag (ex. #JustForYouTaglist). In addition, if you'd like to be mentioned in my general taglist, just comment with the hashtag (#gentaglist) so I can mark you down

If you request an 18+ fic, your age should be stated in your blog, otherwise, you will be blocked. This also applies if you want to be added to my tag list, whether the fic is geared toward adults or mature audiences.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld 

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[ddejavvu]

navigation

I’m mei/daisy, I’m 20, and I run this blog! You may use any/all pronouns on me, and I'm always here if you need to chat :) I write sfw and nsfw, and i ask minors not to interact with anything nsfw. doing so will result in a block.

characters i write for

masterlist

faq

latest fics: Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader / Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader / Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Series)

Blog rules:

Please check the tag #faq to see if your question has been answered before asking it!

Sometimes my masterlists aren't updated frequently. I suggest after perusing those to scroll through character tags if you want to see my entire library of work. I am working on updating it.

I do not condone the reposting of my work onto other websites. My writing is my writing, if you want to post a story, write your own.

I don't do taglists. They are a lot of work on my part, and they get out of hand quickly. Please do not ask to be tagged.

To request, I need a plotline and and a character. ‘Fluff’ is not a plotline, ‘part 2’ is not a plotline, ‘sub!reader’ is not a plotline, etc. You’ll have to give me a specific event or series of events to write about if you want me to write about them. If your request is missing one of those components, it will not be written.

Please don't ask if I've stopped writing for a character just because I haven't for a few days. This puts pressure on me and comes off like a guilt trip. Unless I've officially stated that I don't write for them anymore, I still write for them.

Please do not send your request twice. There's a 99% chance that I got it the first time, and sending it twice might actually dissuade me from writing it at all. I have a lot of asks in my inbox, and when people start sending in requests twice or even three times, it clutters things up and makes it very hard for me to work with what I've got.

Please don’t ask to be mutuals! I’m not against the idea of interacting with any of you, on the contrary, I’m very happy to talk to each and every one of you, regardless of whether we follow each other or not. However, I don’t like being asked to do a follow-for-follow situation. It doesn’t usually end up benefitting either party. If you’d like to be my mutual, please don’t ask, just try interacting with me! I’m happy to engage with people who engage with me. I love making mutuals, I just want it to happen naturally, or it doesn’t feel genuine. Thank you!

Please do not send me a request that you’ve copied and pasted into other authors’ inboxes. I suggest not doing this to anyone, but I have a particularly low tolerance for it. It can create some sticky ‘plagiarism/copying’ situations, and it makes me feel like a machine, not an individual person. Please respect me and other authors by valuing us and our work, not just spamming requests for free content. If I find out that a request I’ve been sent has also been sent to other authors word for word, I will delete it immediately, and if I find out after the fact that I’ve written a blurb that someone else wrote with the exact same prompt before me, I will most likely take mine down.

Please do not request anywhere but my inbox. That is where I keep them all so that they’re organized and don’t get forgotten about, so if you message them to me or use one of my other posts as your request form, your comment will most likely be ignored. I can’t keep up with all of them unless you put them in the right place, I’m sorry.

Requesting Rules:

NO:

cheating (on reader)

pedophilia

scat

puke

bestiality

rape

age play

rpf (Real Person Fiction; i don't write for real people! just their characters)

canon compliant war-centric fics about the marauders. I don’t have any interest in writing about the war, or any adjacent events, I’m sorry. I’m perfectly fine writing post-war fics or pre-war fics but I’m just trying to pretend it never happened and I’d appreciate it if you’d send me stuff for them that lets me do that </3

singing or dancing (done by reader) to amaze and impress everyone around them. if that's what you like, go ahead, i'm happy you're happy. but the scenario gives me massive second hand embarrassment, and I can't bring myself to write about it, sorry

songfics: i need to appreciate and understand the song on an analytical level to be able to write an entire fanfiction surrounding it, and that's something I can only manage with songs that i personally love and listen to. if you ask me to write you a songfic and i haven't even heard the song before, i won't be able to do your request justice.

reader teaching a character to do a certain hobby/sport, or a character teaching the reader that. let me explain: i don't know how to pitch a softball, so if you're going to ask me to write about teaching remus to pitch a softball, i don't know how to do that. it all comes down to me and my hobbies and my knowledge, of course, but common plotlines like being taught how to roll a blunt/smoke one, being taught how to play a sport, teaching a character to do a makeup routine, etc, are not skills that i have in my wheelhouse, and therefore plotlines that i wouldn't try to write about.