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doctor-dusk · 4 months ago

Text

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes.

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days.

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel.

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.”

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him.

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.”

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)”

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for.

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that.

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way.

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear.

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please.

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.”

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.”

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly.

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.”

oh. now that was another level.

#doctor says #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x you

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months ago

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Mystery of love

Previously / Next chapter

a/n I don’t know how we all ended up here but we have! Enjoy! Thank you for the sweet words!🤍🫧

summary: when two lost souls meet at their mutual friend’s party sparks fly, the question is if whatever they feel can actually bloom into something more? But that’s the mystery of love.

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He had been restless ever since. No matter what he did, where he went, somewhere in the back of his head there was always that girl with rosy cheeks. Noah wondered if you even understood how much he had to work himself up to walk up to you. He wasn’t usually like that with other women. Not that he found himself interacting with many. Fans were fans, Noah tried to keep that line pretty clear. After all, he had learned the hard way what that could entail.

But there had been something about you. From the moment you stepped into the room, Noah had this feeling. He couldn’t explain it and that made him feel almost stupid. They were all protective of one another. It was just how it was. You looked out for the ones you loved. But with Matt finding Emmy, a weird sort of longing had sparked within. He was happy for both of them but it also made Noah take a hard turn towards his dating life. One that wasn’t there.

“Hey, we’re ordering it or not?”, the sound of Jolly’s voice made Noah turn around. “Yeah, I’ll take one”, he muttered under his breath, returning to his phone. “You’ll take one? I’m asking you about lightbulbs”, Jolly tilted his head to the side, “Have you even been listening?”. The truth was that he was far from listening because the past two days have been spent trying to find you online. He had done that pretty easily. Emmy had a public profile and a couple of pictures of you both together, with you, for Noah’s luck, being tagged in all of them.

“Do you know if Matt’s home?”, Noah turned back to his friend who had a frown on his face. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”, Jolly urged on but Noah simply shrugged, “Nothing, just some management shit, need to run it through him”, the lie rolled rather easily off his tongue but Noah knew from the look on Jolly’s face that he wasn’t buying it. “You come to me when you feel like it and Matt’s downstairs”, he gestured towards the door, stepping aside so Noah could walk past.

He knew this was stupid and quite frankly something that Matt might not even approve of but after running the idea through his head over and over he saw no other option. Matt was leaning onto the counter grinning at his phone as if it was the seventh word wonder. “Hey, man”, Noah clapped him on the back, “I have a weird thing to ask of you”. Matt turned to him, motioning with his head for Noah to keep talking. “I need your phone”, the sentence alone made him cringe, “and your Instagram account”, “Why?”, Matt crossed his arms over his chest, “You have your private account, what would you do on my account?”.

Now this was the crossroad Noah knew could ever make it or break it. “You follow someone”, he mused, “With a private account”. And that was all it took for Matt to start grinning. “Tell me that it’s not Y/n or it means that I owe Emmy a tenner”, he shook his head almost in disbelief. Noah froze and his face must have given him away. Matt let out a laugh, “Emmy called it, she said you would be the one to fall”, “I’m not falling, she left quickly in the middle of the party, I just want to…”, Noah rambled on, making Matt shake his head once more, “You know the password, don’t like any of her pictures”, he tossed his phone at Noah, giving him a warning finger, before settling down on the stool.

“It will be ten fourth five”, you smiled at the customer in front of you, warping the book in the paper bag before sliding it over the counter. “Have a good read, tell me your thoughts next time around”, the teenager nodded eagerly before stepping outside with the wave. You loved slow mornings like that. The bookstore only got busy over the midday hours. But all morning and late evening you could easily enjoy your reads if there were no deliveries that needed to be unpacked.

“Think it’ll be just me and you here today, Bean”, you brushed your hand over the ginger fur of the cat that had made the store his home years ago. Keeping you company through your shifts. Reaching out you busied yourself with the front desk, having the urge to rearrange the books presented there. That was until the bell on the door rang, making you turn. “Welcome to Ink and …”, your voice died down and just like that night everything seemed to halt before going in lightning speed. “Welcome to Ink and Paper let me know if you need help with anything”, you blinked, turning away quickly as your heart hammered in your chest. Because there was no way he was here. Your brain was playing a trick on you. “It’s Noah, I don’t know if you remember”, his voice cut through you, making you shoot daggers at the cat in front of you as if he could do anything about this. “Oh, I remember”, you threw his line from the first night you two met back at him, moving behind the counter as if it would do anything to help you.

“Are you looking for a book?”, you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “No, I… I wanted to see you”, he brushed his hand through his hair stepping closer. “For some reason, I don’t want to know how you found out about this”, you gestured around the store. “I have my ways, how have you been?”, he smiled at you, reaching to touch the books on the shelf to his right. And you shamelessly allowed yourself to watch his tattooed fingers. “Why are you here, Noah?”, you asked, making him snap his attention back to you fully.

He took a deep breath in, “I wanted to see you again. You kind of been on my mind ever since so I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to go out now that neither of us are under the influence of alcohol”, he braced both of his hands onto the counter, leaning towards you. You backed away, back hitting the shelf behind you, “Not looking for a boyfriend”, you bit back. “I didn’t offer to be one”, Noah shrugged, “Yet”. The smirk that painted his lips felt infectious and you found yourself wanting to smile too. “The answer is no”, you reached for Bean, lifting him, “But you are free to look around”.

“A not date dinner, just once”, Noah pushed on, “Just two friends on…”, “We’re not friends”, you cut in. “Okay two not friends going on a not date”, he tilted his head to the side. “We close at eight”, you narrowed your eyes at him. “I can wait”, he threw the answer so easily as if he truly meant it. “That’s seven hours”, you pointed out. “Amazing, I can wait”, Noah smiled at you, reaching for the first book closest to him. “That’s pretty much porn on paper”, you gestured to his choice. “Wonderful maybe I can learn a thing or two”, his words made you snort and you instantly clasped a hand over your mouth. But it was too late, he had heard it and he sure as hell was proud of himself.

Noah never thought that watching someone in their element could be so fulfilling. He smiled alongside people that you were interacting with. Watching how much thought went into every suggestion you made. He equally as much saw you glancing at him. As if you were waiting for him to leave. To not stick up to his words. And so he didn’t miss the hurt in your eyes when he did move towards the door. The look that got replaced with an eye roll when he came back minutes later with two bags of pastries from across the street.

“We can go”, the sound of your voice made him look up from the book he had been flipping through. “It’s six”, Noah glanced at his watch before bringing his eyes back up to you. “I’m aware”, you clutched the books in your hands closer to your chest, “We close at six every other day”. “So, I passed the challenge”, Noah mussed, making you shake your head, “Can I still opt out?”. “Absolutely no chance”, he quickly stood up. “Can we stop by my place I would like to change”, you pointed to your uniform shirt, tapping the logo with your finger. “I can lend you my hoodie”, Noah offered, making you chuckle, “Nice try, but no thank you”, “Your apartment it is”, he gestured for you to go ahead of him, waiting up as you locked up, turning to face him once more.

“It’s nothing special so… don’t judge”, you muttered beneath your breath as you turned your keys in the lock, trying to remember if you hadn’t left any underwear around the place before you left. “I live in a household of only men, nothing I see will be worst”, Noah chuckled from behind you. It felt too intimate bringing him upstairs. Letting him inside the space that was just for you. “Why not get a space for yourself?”, you fidgeted with your keys, stalling the inevitable. Wondering if you asked him to stay behind would he? “I love my friends, they are family. I always wanted to have a space that felt safe”, Noah mused, “That felt like actually home”.

You took a deep breath in, letting his words sink in. “Well… You’re about to see what home looks like to me”, you breathed out a sigh before opening the door. There was this anticipation there. Thick in the air as you waited for his reaction. A frown. Something. Something like your ex said. A hoarder. A mess. “Shit…”, Noah mussed, glancing around. And here it was you could feel it. Right on the tip of his tongue… “This is the coolest place I’ve seen”, your head snapped to him. “I’ve never thought that you could just put them like this”, he leaned closer to the stacks of books in your hallway. “You know we have so much manga back home, it’s in boxes but we should so do this”, he rambled on, brushing his fingers over the bindings, reading some of the titles.

You watched him for a while. In your space. You wanted him to stick out. To feel odd. But it felt right. He looked good standing there. The evening sun painted his skin golden. “You drink tea?”, you asked softly. “Are you inviting me in?”, Noah wiggled his eyebrows. “No, not after that”, you frowned making him let out a low laugh. “I would love a cuppa if it’s okay with you”, you wanted to say no but deep down a bigger part of you screamed yes. “Take your shoes off and… watch out for Marsh, he’s blind”, you informed him, slipping through the hallway. Glancing back to watch him quickly kicking his sneakers off. Asking yourself what the fuck you have gotten yourself in after all the promises you had made to yourself

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian x you #bad omens x reader #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine

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rekino2114 · 3 months ago

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Presenting your profile to the ace attorney girls

A/n:I got inspired by a post I saw and decided to make it with the girls mainly cause i LOVE writing stuff that fits with the gameplay of a game if that makes sense, please tell me you understood that

Let's pretend that you can show profiles in every game

Ngl putting the tags on this might have taken more time than writing the fic itself (I literally exceeded tumblr's tag limit)

Maya fey

Maya:Oh hey, it's y/n. Do you know what they're doing now? I'd like to go on a date with them

Phoenix:....we're in the middle of solving a case.

Maya:so? There's no wrong time to go on a date with your partner

Mia fey

Mia:y/n? What about them?

Phoenix:they're your partner aren't they?

Mia:Yes, that is true....although I'd like it if you could keep that private. I am your superior, after all

Phoenix:s-sorry boss

Lana skye

Lana:.......

Phoenix:........

Lana:what is it?

Phoenix:nothing I just thought you'd have a stronger reaction to seeing a picture of your s/o

Lana:I don't like to mix my work and personal life, ask Ema if you're really interested

Phoenix:(how does she have an s/o at all with that attitude?)

Ema skye

Ema:That reminds me, if you see y/n, please don't tell them I was eating snackoos

Apollo:hm? Why?

Ema:they.....might have put me on a snack ban cause I spilled fingerprint dust on their clothes

Apollo:......why were you carrying fingerprint dust in your home in the first place?

Ema:......y-you don't need to know that

Franziska von karma

Phoenix:prosecutor von karma might I- ow what was the whipping for?

Von karma:that was for carrying a picture of y/n without their permission

Phoenix:I keep photos of everyone involved with- ow! Again?

Von karma:that was for presenting it to me

Phoenix:why are you mad at me for tha- WHAT ABOUT NOW?

Von karma:nothing, I just felt like it

Phoenix:........

Adrian andrews

Andrews:Oh,that reminded me. I should probably call y/n and see how they're doing

Phoenix: You must really love them

Andrews:Of course, after celeste's death, they were the only good person I had in my life. They really are so so important to me

Iris Hawthorne

Iris:......y-y/n

Phoenix:they're your partner right?

Iris:yes....they-they're the only person involved with me that didn't get their life ruined by dahlia, I couldn't be happier about that

Trucy wright

Trucy:Please don't tell y/n about this, but I'm preparing a super cool magic show made just for them

Apollo:oh that sounds great.....I'm not participating in it am I?

Trucy:Of course polly, who else is gonna be my assistant?

Apollo:(and when did I agree?)

Vera misham

Vera:.....y/n!....

[She draws a heart on her notebook with a smile on her face]

Apollo:I think that's the most emotion I've seen out of her

Trucy: Yeah she probably loves her s/o a lot

Athena cykes

Widget:y/nnnnnn, I love them soooo much

Athena:*blushes* w-widget!....s-sorry boss

Phoenix:it's alright, I know how widget is, that just means you really love your s/o and that's great

Athena:Yeah you're right, I do really love them a lot

Juniper woods

Woods:*blushes* t-thena, don't go around showing me y/n's photo randomly

Athena:Sorry, Junie, but there's nothing wrong with that, right? After all, they are your partner that you love sooo much

Woods:*blushes* If you continue like this, you're gonna make me die of embarrassment

Kay faraday

Kay:there they are! The person who stole my heart

Edgeworth:........

Kay:Get it, Mr Edgeworth? Cause I'm a thief

Edgeworth:yes I got it, I didn't laugh because it wasn't funny

Kay:come on!

Justine courtney

Edgeworth:judge Courtney, this is your romantic partner correct?

Courtney:Yes, they are, y/n is my fiance actually,John is very happy to have another parent figure other than me

Kay:Wow, it must be nice of him to have both of his parents

Courtney:.........shall I remind you that technically he has none of them

Kay:......o-oh yeah I forgot, sorry......eheh

Edgeworth:were you jealous of him?

Kay:........a-aren't you too?

Susato mikotoba

Susato:Is y/n in need of something?

Ryunosuke:oh no I just wanted to speak to you about them

Susato:oh alright then

Ryunosuke:you were really ready to go to them?

Susato:Of course, I'd do anything for them, I want to be the best girlfriend they could ever have, just like I want to be the best judicial assistant you could ever have

Gina lestrade

Ryunosuke:Hey Gina I wanted to-.....w-wait where's the picture?

Gina:you looking for this oddo?

Ryunosuke:....I thought you stopped with the pickpocketing

Gina:Sorry, but I'm gonna keep it, it's of my s/o, and we don't all have fancy cameras like Mr sholmes

Ryunosuke:Scotland yard doesn't?

Gina:Nah,we do, but the boss won't let us use it for "personal purposes." trust me I tried

Esmeralda tusspells

Tusspells:Oh, you have a picture of y/n perfect! Do you mind selling it to me?

Ryunosuke:Hm, why?

Tusspells:I want to make a wax statue of them to celebrate our anniversary but can't use them as a model since I want it to be a surprise, so a picture would be perfect

Ryunosuke:sorry but I need this for the case

Tusspells:Should I remind you what position your detective friend is in? I'm sure you need all the money you can get

Ryunosuke:.......that's fair

Maria gorey

Gorey:That's y/n.....why do you have a picture of them?

Ryunosuke:o-oh you know for case-

Gorey:You know it's been a while since I gave them a gift. Maybe they'd appreciate a real heart to show them my love

Ryunosuke:ok ok I'll throw the picture away (every time I'm near her i feel like she wants to kill me)

Espella cantabella

Espella:ah y/n, they're so sweet

Layton:they must be very important to you am I right?

Espella:yes they treat with so much love and kindness, they truly are the light of my life

Layton:ah young love is so beautiful

Darklaw/eve belduke

Darklaw:no

Phoenix:w-what?

Darklaw:if you want to ask me about y/n then don't. Do you want to end up on trial for disrespecting the high inquisitor?

Phoenix:o-ok (with how scary she is y/n must feel very protected)

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leaawrites · 4 months ago

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Poetry Confessions

Elijah Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: writing poetry with Eli.

Wordcount: 0.9k

TW: none

A little appreciation post and a (late) happy birthday to one of my favourite irish lads, Elijah Bob Patricius Guggi Q Hewson.

Masterlist

Softly the rain outside played a melody she wanted to capture but just didn’t know how. It was such a sweet, soft sound that couldn’t be described in words. It was a echo but nothing more. Some sensual beating of natures heart. How could you capture a heartbeat?

The door creaked open and was shut close shortly after. Eli carrying in two mugs for the two of them. Both filled with the tea of their preference. The smoke of it was dancing through the air before dissolving into nothing. Cooling off.

He put them on his table before turning around to talk to the girl, who was sitting on his bed, about the song they were just about to write.

He invited her over to his after reading a bit of her poetry by what you could call rather an accident than for the reason of her offering it to him. Rob had given it to him, explaining that it was from a friend and that he should hold the papers for him while he set up his bass. The words memorized him and he could imagine a rhythm behind it. It was as if they were his own, but at the same time they weren’t. They told a story he saw himself in but he wasn’t the main character. They felt like one. Sharing a mind.

After talking to Rob about it and inviting her to a band practice before going to his home, she agreed to work with them. At first, she was mad at Rob for just handing the papers out like they were free advertisement and embarrassed that someone else besides her closest friends read her most conscious thoughts, but the lads were nice and she quickly bonded with them, which made her appreciate it a little more. Plus, she was now actively working together with people that she was convinced had a great future in front of them. For most people, you could tell if they were gonna be stars in their future at the mere age of 17, but with them, you just knew.

“What are you thinking about?” Eli asked, sitting down next to her. His eyes switched between her profile and the world outside his window. He watched the rain but to him it was a rather ordinary thing to admire.

“It’s beautiful. The rain, I mean. It’s so loud but so gentle,” she explained, turning her head to look at him. “I’ve tried writing about it, but I never really got to capture it’s beauty quite like I hoped to. It always seemed off.”

He had never heard anyone talk about nature like that - besides Bobby’s endless speeches about birds. But that - the rain and it’s magic - he understood it - not like the birds. He just sat there and watched her like he couldn’t comprehend she was real. What a mind, he thought.

“I think you can’t capture the most beautiful things in something like words or pictures. Reality is always more fascinating,” he answered, watching her to make her understand what he was referring to. Her.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she argued, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged opposite him.

Eli did the same, turning so he could look at her fully. “Then how do you explain your struggle with writing about rain?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just bad.”

“When you’re bad then I’m horrible. No, even worse than horrible. A total disaster,” he joked, making her laugh. “You wanna test it?”

“How?” She asked, intrigued by his offer.

“We each write one poem about something that we find semi beautiful and one thing that we are fascinated by. Then we see which one is better,” he explained his idea.

“That’s not gonna work,” she said.

“You don’t even wanna try? Party popper,” he said, looking bored at her.

She laughed at his behavior before finally agreeing to his offer. “Which one do we write first?”

“The semi beautiful,” he decided.

Getting paper and two pens, he hands her what she needs before they both think and create.

“I say, we write the other one now and then we compare them together,” she said after they both finished writing their first poem.

They kept on writing, letting their creative stream lead them where they went with their poem. Y/n noticed, how every 2 seconds, Eli would look up at her and watch her for a moment before continuing writing.

“Can you please stop looking at me?” She asked, feeling small under his gaze.

He was still writing, so when he heard her talk he quickly looked up. “Sorry, what?” He asked, still half immersed in his lines and verses. Not expecting her to voice anything while concentrating.

“I don’t like when people look at me when I write, so could you please stop that?” She asked him.

She didn’t want to be rude, but she felt uncomfortable when she knew someone was watching her while she was willing to write about something personal. It was a nagging feeling she couldn’t shake off. Some distaste she imagined reflecting in their eyes, disgust of her mind. Some sort of making fun of her while writing. She felt insecure with the knowing of eyes watching her, afraid she might fail in front of them.

“Can’t do,” he said, deciding to just shoot his shot. Now or never, right?

“Why not?” She asked, putting her pen down on her paper and looking at him.

“I have to focus on my subject while writing.”

#elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson #eli hewson #elijah bob patricius guggi q hewson #inhaler dublin #inhaler imagine #inhaler fanfic #inhaler one shot #inhaler band #inhaler #irish lads #poetry

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azurlily · 1 year ago

Text

Dont ask just read, this is what a bored and horny mind can come up with. Yes, this woman needs a name so for now we will call her LSM. What does that stand for? Lets find out together. Completely UNEDITED.

Lesbian Sugar Mommy

You had a daily schedule, a routine. You followed this routine everyday for years. For years. So you being poor as hell at only 24, being barely able to afford food and rent. It was an all time low for you, and an embarrassing one at that. Recently your friend recommends you try a sugar dating app. At first you thought it was stupid, but mulled it over and remembered how broke you were. You made a profile and it took a couple days before you matched with a woman. At first you were incredibly awkward when texting and felt embarrassed. She seemed like the kindest woman you've ever met. She understood you and was better than any man or woman you had previously dated.

You were honestly pretty enamored with her, she has dark green eyes. Like a forest green, god they're beautiful, and you swear they change color depending on what she's wearing. Her hair is long and dark, contrasting her lightly tan skin. Her hair is slightly curly, definitely not straight. In the many pictures she's sent you, you notice all her nails are perfect manicured, but two on each finger have been cut down completely. You didn't bother asking, weren't a virgin or stupid, simply poor. You two began talking a bit more about finances after a couple weeks. She listened to you talk about your financial situation, how you could barely keep a roof over your head. By the end of your two and a half hour conversation, you found yourself being wired $10,000. It wasn't as if it was out of nowhere considering what the conversation was, but it was surprising. LSM had said she wanted to give you a bit of money to keep you going for the month. She had not said she was give 10,000 fucking dollars! You didn't know what to do with the money. Other than pay your bills and let the rest sit.

For a couple days you were worried she'd want it all back, but no, instead she asked if you wanted more.

"Well I didn't give you that much...so I'm just making sure it's enough. I can give you plenty more, sugar."

You had reassured her it was enough, much more than enough. In the following days you were finding her flirting with you more, being more straightforward. You blushed everytime she made a crude joke, but you almost wished it was a statement.

When LSM had asked if you wanted to have dinner at her place you agreed. You wondered how the night would go, if you would fuck up and she'd be mad. You hoped the night went as well as possible, and if not, that she'd at least tell you.

The night went a lot of different ways. At first she was playing the kind and gracious host, then she was flirting with you. Finally you had both drank a little too much of her expensive red wine, and she fucked you against her king size bed.

You dont remember the first little bit, but you certainly remember how your night ended. Well not all of it, that woman has the sex drive of a beast. She continued until she couldn't, until you couldn't walk and she couldn't see straight. If nothing else; your legs will remember this until you die.

"Good morning sugar, how are you feeling? I hope I wasn't too rough on you, although I can't say it was entirely my fault. You kept begging me to keep going, and who am I to deny you?"

You whined, talking hurt, and you couldn't move without some part of your body below your waist hurting. You sit up just a enough and look at yourself in your phone mirror. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing, theres a massive bite mark on your shoulder. Everywhere else there's hickeys, like they're changing color.

"Before you get mad- please look at my back!"

She turned and you saw large scratch marks running down her back. From her shoulders to her ass, you can also see quite the array of bites on her shoulder. One looks like it was actually bleeding. Your reaction must be funny because she's laughing like crazy. She gently cups your face and kisses your lips.

"So pretty. My girl is so pretty arent you? Mommy's little girl."

You just laid in her arms for a while, letting her talk about whatever she wanted. You were tired and her touch made you weak. You began thinking about your job, did you have to call in to work today? Were you working today? You asked LSM, but she just smiled and shook her head.

"You wont need your job anymore, at least not this one. I've already sent your monthly allowance over to you. You can quit that job anytime, it'll give you more time for me."

Monthly allowance? You pulled away to check your bank account. Sure enough she had transferred over $40,000.

You stared at the number for a moment a then looked back at her. You assumed she was some sort of big millionaire, but now that you're looking around. Really looking. You dont want to know what this woman does for a living.

"Pay no mind sugar, now come here. I'll have someone bring breakfast and we can stay in bed all day!"

#wlw #lesbian #im bad at this #women are hot #i cant write #sugar mommy #lesbian sugar mommy #lesbian sugar mommy x reader #rich #unedited #i tried #she might be in the mafia but i am not confirming nor denying that #maybe shes a mafia boss #maybe she is just really really rich #i dont see this as smut

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zeroseuniverse · 1 year ago

Text

Ghosted

WC: 1.8K Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader Warnings: Talks of anxiety attacks, ghosting, arguing.

“You need to get back into the dating world, you can’t just be the third wheel with Hyunjin and I all of the time.” Felix tries to justify his actions.

“Wow just say you don’t wanna be friends then Felix.” She smirked as she wiped down her counters. Her traitorous best friend was trying to talk her into getting an online dating profile so she can finally stop overworking herself, not that she saw it that way.

“You know that’s not what I mean, but come on you never go on dates and you could meet the one! Just give it a chance.”

“No Felix.” She said sternly moving further into her kitchen, Felix following like a lost puppy still trying to plead his case.

“I already made the account.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” She asked, spinning to pin him with a glare, feeling very frustrated with the man right at this moment.

“Oh come on! I know tons of people on the app, Hyunjin and I even met on it so you should give it a try.”

“If you want me to stop hanging around you and Hyunjin you can go ahead and tell me, don’t try to force a relationship on me.” She said angrily, causing the blonde to shrink back slightly as he took in the implications of his approach. While she had taken the third wheel thing as a joke at first she was seemingly offended now.

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Sure seems like it.” She mumbled, snatching her phone from Felix, only now noticing he had it this whole time, the app already open. “Go home.”

“Oh come on, I’ll stop pushing but this is our day. Don’t break the routine.”

“No Felix, go have a date with Hyunjin or something, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“I get I upset you but can’t we just move on?”

“No Felix please leave.” She said not even looking at him as she moved across the room to open the front door to show she is being serious about his departure.

“Just think about it.” He whispered sadly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaving.

–

Talking to Hyunjin wasn’t the same as talking to Felix, having known the younger for much longer she was much more comfortable, and Hyunjin rarely hung out with her without Felix, but the second Felix came home in tears about how the situation went down, Hyunjin understood that this wasn’t gonna be something easy to get over, so he divided his time so he could care for both parties, ignoring the woman’s protests about how he should be with his boyfriend.

“What about him?” Hyunjin wondered, swiping through the app, having convinced her to just swipe through to see who all was around.

“Too manly.” She said barely sparing a glance.

“Well he is a man, so.”

“Not what I mean.”

“I know, but if I’m sassy enough you might actually pay attention to what I’m showing you.”

“I don’t care about stupid dating. Especially if you guys are just trying to get me away from you guys, I’ll just stop crashing your dates. It’s fine I don’t need a stupid date to occupy myself.” She sighed, jotting down more notes for her work.

“That’s not our intention, we genuinely just want you to be happy.” Hyunjin tried to express only to frown when she showed no sign of acknowledging his words, he looked back down at the phone only to gasp loudly.

“Oh My God! Look!” Hyunjin screeched, shoving the device into her face excitedly, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light, which felt like forever for the dramatic man. “Look! Look!”

“I would be able to if it wasn’t basically on my eye.” She snarked, snatching the phone, only to see the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen filling up her screen.

She audibly gasped, unconsciously moving her thumb to see more, each picture grabbing her attention more and more. Hyunjin watched with an excited grin as she took in the man with awe written on her features. She swiped down to view the bio and her eyes almost popped out of her sockets. He was seemingly perfect.

She sighed internally knowing it was a long shot, swiping right before throwing the phone back to Hyunjin so she didn’t have to see if there was a match or not. “Holy Shit!” The exclamation caused her to jolt in her seat, scared by the abrupt noise. “You matched!” He screeched, shoving the phone in her face yet again, the light causing a headache to begin to form.

And that is how she got into a routine, everyday her and Song Mingi, her match, would messge beginning with cordial quick chats following into much deeper conversations, sometimes leading into nightly phone calls. It was adorable, especially to Hyunjin who was gossiping to Felix every chance he got about how their friend Mingi matched with their bestfriend all thanks to him.

And everything seemed to be going well, until the day of the date came. After prettying herself up and mentally preparing herself to meet possibly the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, she was thoroughly disappointed when he didn’t show. With no other choice the woman trudged back to her apartment feeling defeated, missing a frantic man rushing into the restaurant looking panicked, he really shouldn’t have expected her to still be there but his panic attack took way longer than usual to calm down and he then needed to look semi composed, by time he got there he was two hours late. Embarrassed he went home to try and figure out how to fix the issue, maybe he can ask a friend for help.

And so he did, the next day he met with Felix at his boyfriend’s cafe to discuss his mistake, unknowingly Felix already heard of what happened last night when his bestfriend had called him in tears, cursing him for getting her onto the dating app. She genuinely felt a strong connection to the intellectual tall boy, only to be dumped like that.

“Okay operation cupid is a go. You know the plan?” Hyunjin asked his boyfriend before Mingi showed up, earning an eye roll from the blonde.

“Of course I know the plan, I’m the one that came up with it.”

“That's right…Okay he’s here go!” Hyunjin rushed out moving to look busy even though it was quite obvious his nosey self was listening.

Step 1: Get Mingi’s side of the story.

“I’m so sorry to call and dump all of this on you, you’re just the only one I know with good relationship experience.” Mingi explained looking pathetic if Felix was being honest. He almost resembled a kicked puppy.

“It’s all good, what’s going on?” Felix prompted allowing Mingi to go into his story about how he got panicked about the date and accidentally psyched himself right into a panic attack, but nobody was there to calm him down so it took longer than usual to even be able to comprehend anything, and by time he could it was too late, and he was too embarrassed to reach out, what if she was mad at him.

“I’m sure if you explain it’ll all be fine.” Felix reassured, but Mingi looked panicked at the thought of telling a new person in his life about his disorder, it was personal.

Step 2: Get her there.

That part was a little more difficult for Hyunjin. It took a lot of coaxing to get her out of her house where she was trying to drown herself in work to not feel embarrassed. But thankfully after explaining Felix was busy and couldn’t bring him lunch she was on her way with some food. Tentatively walking in with her hood pulled over her head and sunglasses over her eyes to help with her pounding headache.

“Oh look at you being the bestfriend possible!” Hyunjin cheered rushing over to embrace the tired woman, the ruckus gaining some attention but it didn't last long, nobody sparing more than a glance except Felix.

“Hyunjin.” She said monotonously, causing the tall man to gulp.

“Yes beautiful?” He covered with a sweet grin.

“Tell me why I can see Felix in my line of sight when you told me he was busy.”

“He is! He’s talking to an old friend.”

“Mhmm, well I’m leaving now.”

Step 3: get them to meet

“Wait! Felix wanted to talk to you about something.” Hyunjin panicked trying to usher her into his boyfriend’s direction.

“He’s talking to someone right now, he can just tell me later.” She rolled her eyes trying to leave again, but Hyunjin all but threw her over his shoulder and carried her over to the table, settling her next to Mingi before sliding in next to Felix.

“What the hell man!” She grunted holding her stomach where his boney shoulder dug into, only earning an unapologetic shrug from the dramatic man.

“Oh my god!” She heard a deep voice gasp out next to her causing her eyes to widen and her head to spin.

“Mingi?” She grasped out before throwing herself out of the seat and rushing to leave the cafe very much annoyed at the set up.

“Wait wait wait just hear me out!” Mingi panted, catching up with her with a quick sprint.

“Hear what out? You stood me up and now you’re talking to my friends?”

“Well that’s not exactly what happened, I didn’t know they were your friends. Felix is my friend from dance, I called him because I messed up last night.” He rushed to explain, reaching to gently grasp her wrist. “I got too in my head and had a full blown panic attack, I blacked out for a bit after and by time I came to and washed back up I was already an hour and a half late, I showed up anyways hoping for some reason maybe I could still fix my mistake. But you weren’t there. So I called Felix for advice. I was too embarrassed to reach out until I knew for sure how to fix it the right way.” His eyes were watery and filled with guilt as he looked at her pleadingly.

“So you didn’t purposefully stand me up?” She asked with a slight tilt of the head.

“God no! Never! You’re the first person I’ve felt such a genuine connection to in a long time, please give me a chance to fix this.” He pleaded, moving to sit on his knees before her as if he was begging, making her giggle a bit at his determination.

“Do you like Ice Cream?” She wondered, making him look at her incredulously, “I know a really cute ice cream place, we can go now if you’re up for it.” She offered, causing him to spring to his feet, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his car, opening the door for her before hopping in just as quick, the eagerness in his movements causing her to stifle her laugh. And then they were off.

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canyouiimagine · 1 year ago

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Showed Me | CS55 x Black! Reader

PART 1

Masterlist

✧ Paring: Carlos Sainz jr x Heiress black!reader

✧ Warning: Mean reader, cursing, mentions of cheating.

✧ Summary: In which reader is a bad person but a good friend.

✧ A/N: I obviously don't know Carlos Sainz, this is just for entertainment. <3 Also, English is not my first language so 👉🏾👈🏾.

You and Anna had always been polar opposites. She was nice, you weren't. She was sociable, you weren't. She was passionate, you weren't. But there is one thing you guys had in common, you both hated losing.

Your best friend was currently curled up in your bed. The same bed she hadn't left since she came knocking at your door 2 days ago, bawling her eyes out. For a man. Carlos Sainz - the man she was crying about - was handsome, you'll give her that. But the man was a fluorescent red flag, you could see he was trouble from a mile away. You told her to be careful, but she didn't listen.

Anna was an optimistic person, you weren't.

Anna and Carlos met almost two years ago at a private party in Ibiza. She had just graduated Valedictorian and wanted to celebrate with a weekend on the island. It was love at first sight she said. She was minding her business, dancing to the beat when suddenly she felt someone rubbing up on her and trying to grope her. She turned around to give the person a piece of her mind, but he got mad and raised his hand to hit her. Anna braced herself but nothing came. Instead, she heard – in her words - "a deep sexy voice speaking sexily in Spanish" and saw a tan hand holding the arm of her harasser.

They started dating shortly after and Anna was over the moon. To her, Carlos was sweet and caring. He flew her out places, bought her expensive gifts, and gave her his time whenever he could. She was rich, she didn’t need trips and gifts, but she appreciated the thought. To you, he was a prick who had convinced your friend that it would be better to keep their relationship a secret so he could feed her crumbs and use it as an excuse. Carlos was a Formula 1 driver, so they were apart a lot. Sure, she would sometimes attend races, but they couldn’t interact in public. Apparently, the media and fans had bullied his ex-girlfriend into breaking up with him and ever since he had opted to keep his love life private.

A few months in their relationship he had given her the keys to his mansion in Madrid. “For whenever you miss me” he had said. “It’s our home” he had insisted. Anna went there as often as she could. So often in fact that she knew every corner of it. And the one this Instagram influencer was posing in was no exception. At first, she thought “it has to his cousin or something” but after clicking on her profile and scrolling through her feed she accepted the hard truth, he was cheating on her. There were pictures upon pictures of her at the same places she had flown to meet up with Carlos. Pictures upon pictures of the same hotels and homes they stayed at together. But the worst part was the timeline of it all. All the posts were made a few days before or after she had been there. Carlos had been cheating on her, perhaps the entire length of their relationship. Coming to that realization had her spiralling. She didn’t even know who was the side chick, was it her or the other girl? Had he met the both of them at the same time? Were there other girls? She tried asking his housekeepers for answers but all they did was give her looks of pity and sad smiles. She called and tried to confront him but as soon as he understood what was happening he hung up and blocked her. Carlos was an asshole, and you couldn’t resist the urge to say -

“I told you so.” “Y/N!!” She cried out to you. “But I did, didn’t I?” This might seem harsh but you knew Anna more than anyone and you knew what she needed right now was a slap back to reality. You had let her cry and wallow in her pity for a few days but now she had to get herself together and be the bad bitch she knew herself to be. “You’re supposed to be supportive! I gave him two years of my life. Two years!” You had been supportive. You had listened to her talk again and again about that man when you didn't even like him! Instead of replying you let out a sigh and caressed what you presumed was her head under the blanket.

After a few minutes she finally let her head out to look at you, mischief written all over her face.

“Y/NNNN?” She said, smiling. “No.” You replied, giving her a pointed look.

You already knew where this was going. You tried to get up but she grabbed your wrist.

“We can’t let him get away with this, Y/N!” She whined, letting go of your wrist to put your hand in between hers. “We?” You looked at her incredulously. You didn't remember this being a "we" problem. “Who’s we?”

“We need to make him pay Y/N/N.” She said, frowning.

The minute she used your nickname she knew she had won.

Anna Lang was emotional, you weren’t. But Anna was your best friend and there was little you wouldn’t do for her. She wanted revenge and she knew revenge was what you did best.

Hope you enjoyed it 🥹💖

Here's my ko-fi in case any of you want to support me by giving donations 🥰: https://ko-fi.com/canyouiimagine

#maria's writing <3 #cs55 #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagine #black reader #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x black!reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #showed me

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crash-and-cure · 2 years ago

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Would it be a Sin? (Yandere! Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: Your Husband will forever keep you safe, no matter the cost.

A/N: Full disclosure, I am a Latina, specifically my family is from Mexico. When I first got this request from @ilovehobi101 I worried as to how I could frame the conflict that some members felt comfortable bullying reader (y’know aside from casual 60’s misogyny) but also why reader wouldn’t really speak up about it. And then I saw my profile picture and was reminded of the serious lack of Latin!reader fics in this fandom, and voila. Also I understand the utter swaglessness of having a latin!reader that starts off as a maid, but trust me the occupation has relevance to the plot. Reader does speak spanish and I will acknowledge that some of the spanish spoken is very specific to the Mexican dialect. Also I love how I was asked for soft!yandere and my thoughts immeadiately went to murder. I got in right under the wire to was able to post this on Elvis’ birthday.

Warnings: Smut, though more towards the end, and not while reader is pregnant (but does include depictions of Hand kink, cockwarming, vaginal fingering. Pregnant!reader. Implied murder, hiding and burying of a body featured. Period-typical xenophobia, racism, and microagressions galore toward a poc!reader as well as the use of some racial slurs. Sexual harassment depicted, though not from Elvis. Yandere!Elvis themes of obsessive, manipulative, and gaslighting behavior, as well as some controlling and isolating tendencies as well, though, softer and not as overt as I have written before. Traumatic birth is described and as well as descriptions of a pre-mature baby. ANGST galore here. Blood and Injuries from a fall depicted. Symptoms of PTSD.

Word Count: 14.5k

My Masterlist

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

There was no doubt in your mind.

It almost plays out like a fairy tale. The King that fell for the maid.

When you were just a maid that cleaned up after him and his friends in Beverly Hills, you didn’t expect this house to be much different from the other houses you’d worked at. You’d been working working as a maid for a few years now, so you knew the deal. Rich people liked their big houses to be clean, but didn’t want to actually think about it being clean, so you were to be seen not heard. They rarely ever spoke to you, mostly they handed a list to one of the girls, and left the house for the day, and you would leave before they returned. When you did on occasion actually see them it would mostly be them calling for you, usually by the wrong name, and pointing to a mess, before leaving the room, truly thinking you were stupid and could only take the simplest of commands (you would on occasion meet these people again after you and Elvis became official, and they never remembered you).

Elvis at the very beginning proved to be no different. You were in his house constantly and yet you didn’t even see him in person until maybe a month or two after you started. As you understood it he was a busy man, especially as he was trying to make a movie career happen, after being gone for so long.

You wouldn’t exactly call the first time you met him magical, or even anything really special for you. You and a few other girls had entered the house and immediately you saw evidence of a party from last night and you could also hear some pretty explicit sounds coming from where you knew the master bedroom to be, one voice pretty distinct even if you had never heard it in person, the other a mystery to you. You and some of the girls got a little giggly, while the others seemed pretty annoyed by this whole thing.

Your tía was on the annoyed side of this situation, which grew even more when one of the tasks was cleaning the stairs and polishing the railing. You're the one that ends up volunteering to do it seeing everyone else was too embarrassed to even try to get near there.

“Suena como si estuviera puliendo la baranda también,” your friend Linda would snicker.

You smacked her arm, and said “pinche puta,” between laughs. Though you can’t say you were any better because you couldn’t help but be very curious as to whether or not the girl upstairs is someone famous or not. Not because you plan on sharing that information with the others, you’re just very curious by nature and always have been. It’s gotten you in trouble in a few places, but you’ve been able to pull the “no hablo ingles” card and it’s usually enough.

And that’s how you met your future husband, crouched down to get to a hard to reach place on the bannister pretending you’re not interested in what’s going on in the other room, as he walked out of his bedroom in only his boxers, hair a mess, scratching his ass while yawning. It throws you a little how handsome you still think he is in person, even in this less than glamorous situation you find yourself in.

“Hola señor,” you said, trying to hide your embarrassment as you got right back to work to get a particularly stubborn spot. You’re also praying he’s not so uptight as to have you fired for seeing him like this, and your hope is that if you act like nothing's wrong he’ll barely even notice you.

“Um… uh… I-I,” you hear him stutter out. You turn around, prepared to either be given a task or be fired on the spot, but to your surprise you find one of the most desired men in the world stuttering over his words while his ears turn a bright red. That color transfers almost entirely to his whole face when you both hear a feminine yawn coming from his room. That manages to shake him out of his stupor as he scrambles back toward his bedroom and closes the door.

Well… I’m fired, which you’re actually sad about, because of all the houses you work he definitely gives the best tips. You know that girls have been let go at other houses for less than this, so you quietly make your way closer to the door, still near the bannister, hoping at the least your curiosity won’t be in vain and you’ll be able to see if it's someone famous.

“...you said I could stay awhile longer,” the girl says. Her voice isn’t so breathy, so you doubt it’s Marilyn or Jayne, but not so posh sounding that you think it’s a Debbie or Audrey.

“I-I know darlin’, but somethin’ came up,” you hear him say. He sounds guilty, as though he was just caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

“Are we still going to that place you were telling me about later?”

“Mmm…” is all you hear from him in response. English may have been your second language, but even you recognize a non-answer when you hear one. You can’t help but cringe at that and for her sake, you hope, for her sake, she drove herself here.

Down below you hear Linda calling and asking you to bring down the duster, but as you grab it intending to make a quick exit from the situation, you realize you neglected to finish the job you were sent to do and you lose your balance at the very top of the stairs when your grip fails you from all of the polish.

There isn’t really anytime for your life to flash before your eyes as someone snatches your wrist and brings you upright again. “You alright there darlin’?” Elvis would ask as he guides you away from the stairs sounding genuinely worried for you while you try to catch your breath. Your heart skips a beat when you see how blue his eyes are, and you quickly try to gather yourself.

“Thank you,” you say. You notice he’s wearing a robe now and also how he’s gazing at you, not saying anything. “You want me to clean in there?” you say to break the tension a bit, which works as you see his cheeks redden a bit as he looks back at his bedroom.

“No, no, I-I uh…” he stutters, before clearing his throat. “If you don’t mind, my uh gir-lady… friend, needs to leave and she uhh…”

“You want me to distract the others while she leaves?”

“Y-you don’t mind?”

“Well you just saved my life so I think I owe you.” you say to him as you lean over the bannister and confirm that they were all in the living room. You go to grab the railing, but quickly snatch your hand back. “Not falling for that one again.” you say looking back at him, and you see that gets a half smile out of him.

“Wait,” he says as you’re halfway down the stairs. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

It’s rare that you’re ever asked that on the job, so for perhaps the first time on the job, your smile is genuine as you tell him.

“Y/N” he repeats, apparently liking the way it rolls off his tongue. And surprisingly enough so do you.

So you make your way down to the room you know they’re cleaning and let them know that the boss wants all of you to clean the kitchen right now. They’re annoyed but nonetheless comply and once you make sure they’re all out you look back up the stairs and give him the thumbs up. He gives you a dopey smile as he gives one back.

Rather than being fired over the incident, he surprises you by actually giving you and the others even more hours. And the hours you worked for him, he so happens to be home. Your tía warns you to be on your best behavior, because typically this means that they think that one of you stole something so they’re keeping an eye on you. With the way one of his friends kept looking at you when you were in the same room as him you figured she was right. But the way Elvis was acting around you, was what threw away this notion.

He was always going out of his way to talk to you, always finding excuses to be in the same room as you, even offering little gifts in the form of sweets. Mix in the fact that you also became the only one who was allowed within places that not even his friends could go into like his bedroom, this all told you that he liked you, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions as to what way.

After he finished shooting his movie he would ask you to house sit for him while he was back in Memphis, stating he felt he could trust you to keep the house clean and to be responsible with it unlike his other friends. Even after you saw what he was willing to pay you for essentially living alone in his mansion for a month, you hesitated because who just offers that to someone they just met and your tía’s warnings about men like him didn’t help either. You eventually caved when he promised to consider you for a full-time/live-in maid if you did a good job.

Then two days after he left, you got a late night call from him. You were honestly happy for it, because the house felt too big and too empty with just you there. It didn’t help that the room he left for you was far too nice, and you missed sharing your bed with your little sisters. Suffice to say, being all alone was unsettling for you

“Sorry if I woke ya’ Y/N, I-I just…” he said, nervousness clear in his voice. “I-I just been lookin’ for somethin’ and I think I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to look for it?”

“If you could be a doll,” he says, relieved. “Ju-just take a look in my room, and see if you can find it there. It’s a black cowboy hat, and I think it was in a white box in the closet.”

You set the phone aside and made your way up there. When you do find it you let him know as much, but decide to have a little fun with it now that you’re up. “I found it Mr. Presley. But there is a problem.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It looks better on me,” you say as you look at yourself wearing it in the mirror.

“I bet it does,'' he says between laughs. This does create a bit of a pause between you two as you recognize that you’re essentially flirting with your boss, and to your horror he’s flirting right back.

“So is this for a movie or are you just going to run away to become a cowboy?” You say in an effort to change the subject.

You hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Much as I wish it was the last one, it’s for my next movie. Dolores del Rio’s gon’ be in it.”

You’re floored at that. “¡No manches! She’s my favorite actress. I thought she wasn’t ever coming back to Hollywood.”

That gets the two of you talking about movies for hours. It was easy to forget that you’re talking to one of the most sought after stars in Hollywood right now as he gushes about his favorite actors the same way you do. What surprises you most is when he asks you who you’ve met while working in LA.

“I’ll never tell,” you tease.

“What, you hate ‘em that much Darlin”?” he laughs.

“Yes,” you jokingly agree, ignoring the way your heart skipped at that nickname.

“I ain’t surprised though,” he says. “There’s some crazies livin’ out there. Ones that’ll ya’ call in the middle of the night ‘bout a cowboy hat, and have you on the phone ‘til… wow 3 in the morning.”

“And some maids are crazy enough to lay in their bed and let them,” you counter, only to clamp up and realize how bad that sounded from the strangled noise he makes on the other side of the phone. You quickly try to backtrack and promise you didn’t mean it that way.

He reassures you that he takes no offense from that, but he does sound like he’s breathing heavier now, and you worry that you accidentally took the harmless flirting with him too far. You quickly give an excuse to leave, “I have a busy day of sitting on your house tomorrow.” You're glad he laughs at that but it does sound a little stiffer than the other one he’s so freely given. After you hang up you tidy up what you can, and make your way back to your room, hoping to pray some dangerous thoughts away.

The next day you try to act like nothing happened, but that’s all thrown out the window that night as Elvis calls again with a similar request to find a pair of his boots that he couldn’t find, and it proceeds much like the previous call. Eventually after the second week of nightly calls he drops the act entirely and calls just so he can talk to you. And you welcome them, because it made the house feel less empty when he did.

When he got back to LA you didn’t know what to expect from him anymore as the late night calls turned into late night talks in the kitchen. That turned into daylight jokes and conversations between the two of you. And honestly even more open flirting between the two of you, but it all came to a head one day as the two of you were walking down the stairs.

“So wait? Your character hears a song on the radio that you, Elvis, sang, and he doesn’t talk about the fact that you look exactly like him.”

“It ain’t Shakespeare, but it’s gettin’ me back out there,” he says sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s too bad,” you say as you reach the bottom of the stairs. “I think you would make a great Romeo.”

“Oh…” he says, his voice going low for a moment, as in the next moment you find yourself trapped between him and the railing. “Tell me Satnin, what ‘bout me reminds you a Romeo.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breathing is a little heavier than it was before. The smirk on his stupidly plush lips tell you he no doubt wanted this reaction, so you decide to show him what it was that reminded you of Romeo, and kiss him fully on the mouth. It was a quick peck on the lips but you could still see the faint traces of your lipstick on him. “Those are what remind me of Romeo.”

He’s stunned at your boldness but no less welcoming as he brings a hand to your face to bring you back, but you use that opportunity to step on to the bottom step and away from him. You leave him on that staircase, your face warm at what you just did, biting your lip to keep from fully laughing at Elvis’ frozen state on the steps.

Later that same day, he would tell you how his upcoming movie was going to be shot in Hawaii, and how coincidentally, he felt that you were in desperate need of a vacation. The rest was history for the two of you.

You love Elvis Presley.

You love everything about Elvis Presley, save for one thing.

His friends.

You will admit you like a few of them. Most of the others are fine, but indifferent towards you. Some of them get on your nerves but otherwise you can live with them, like when they tease you over your accent or snicker under their breath when you forget words. You don’t like it, but you put up with it.

One of them you absolutely hated, with all of your being: Eric.

He’s the one that has been around the longest with Elvis. He went on tour with him in the early days, went to Germany with him, and now he’s here in Hollywood with him. He even brags he was the one to give Elvis the final push he needed to get on stage. Yes he was more partial to the party lifestyle than the others, and had a tendency to speak without much thought, but Elvis reassured you that he was deep down a good guy.

You find that hard to believe, because you don’t know what it is about you that Eric finds so offensive, but whatever it is, it’s apparently unforgivable in his mind.

Even though you spoke it just as well as Spanish, most people assumed you didn’t speak English at all. You let this slide mostly because you’re nosy and people are a lot freer with their words around you when they think you can’t understand them. You begin to regret that decision when Eric got comfortable enough to tell you how badly he wanted to fuck you and what he would do when he did. Usually your go to tactic was to start speaking rapid Spanish, which like most white people, made him confused and very uncomfortable, pick up a cleaning tool and walk into a different room, usually one where you knew Elvis was.

“You’re a lil’ fuckin’ whore you know that?” he would seethe while you cleaned the kitchen the night you were all set to leave for Hawaii. “Just like the rest of ‘em. He’s only taking you because he wants to fuck you.” The foul smell coming from him tells you that he’s been drinking, so you’re on edge right now. Everything about this is setting you off right now, and you know you have to get out of here right now.

…But not before you got the last word in.

You look him right in the eyes, and as he sees the understanding in your eyes, you can also see him realize before you speak your first word to him, that you knew this whole time what he had been saying to you.

“Probably,” you say, and then you turn right around and make you way to Elvis that night.

You don’t if it’s embarrassment for what you heard him say to you, shame that you heard what he said or fear that you could and would tell Elvis at any moment what he’s like to you when no one was around. Whatever the case may be he would spend the next few years making comments under his breath about you, passive aggressively handing you plates to and glasses to clean, so on and so forth.

As did a lot of his friends, as they didn’t take you seriously at first, thinking you were going to eventually be replaced, that was until the argument that had his former manager walk away. When the press had learned about you, they had called you Elvis’ “Hot Tamale,” which you didn’t love, but what you loved even less was the threat that this story posed to his career.

But that’s also when you know you fell for him completely. Even you had fully expected him to drop you the moment the press got wind of you, because celebrities as big as him simply don’t end up with the maid, let alone a maid that looks and sounds like you. But he didn’t. He didn’t flinch at any of the things they threw at him: Not when his manager walked, not when the studio threatened to pull his contract, not even when a veritable mob stood outside the gates of his home demanding he be arrested for “indecency.” He took all of it, all so that you two could be together.

Colonel Tom Parker wanted you gone, and forgotten. The last time you ever saw him he was saying shit like how he didn’t want Elvis to be so “controversial,” and how he would ruin his image as a “good American boy,” over quote “some little wetback.” You got the pleasure of seeing his face turn from angry to murderous as those words left that man's vile mouth, and the way every other face in that room drained of color as he went off on him had you breathing a little heavier by the end of it.

Though it all worked out for the better in the end as Elvis had ten new offers from people who worked with Brando and Dean before he was even out of the gate (all asking for a lot less than what he was paying the Colonel). None of them were afraid to take such a “scandalous” client, and were even able to work it in his favor to get more serious roles he had always been after.

Eventually most people seemed to get over it, and you became the new “it” girl, as magazines went from criticizing you for every little thing that was “unamerican” about you to praising how “exotic” and “spicy” you were. It doesn’t matter what they think, so long as you were with Elvis, you were untouchable, you believed.

That is why you put up with his friends, it felt like after all that he does for you, the least you could do was fight your own battles.

You had woken up today well-rested and your baby moving beneath your heart. You would have labeled it a perfect morning if it weren’t for the fact that your husband was absent, as he was currently doing reshoots for his movie half a world away right now.

He had been furious at the studio for this, and tried everything he could to delay shooting because he wanted to be with you as much as he could right now. He had made it no secret how he wanted a big family, and having grown up in one you couldn’t help but agree eagerly. You were engaged for about a month in total, he was so impatient to start trying for a baby, but you were no better in all honesty.

It eventually took when you were with him in Hawaii for the original shoot of the movie. As appealing as being with him there right before your baby is due sounds, you can’t think of anything worse than a more than ten hour flight. You barely survived the flight back home when you were just barely into your pregnancy, you doubt you would be able to make it this late. Besides, you're saving your patience for flying for your upcoming stay in LA, as you had made plans to have your baby there.

Graceland has become home to you, but Memphis has not. You’ve known since the moment that Elvis decided you were it, that the two of you would be toeing the line. Because being latin, the law here didn’t technically make it illegal for you two to be married, but certain people here made it very clear that they take your marriage as some cardinal sin. As a result, when you are here, you never leave Graceland without him.

Usually you loved being here. When the house is filled with friends and family it actually does feel like a home, and even when it’s just the two of you, neither of you ever feel lonely. But without him, you now feel the way you did when you were just house sitting for him.

This is why, when you learned about the reshoots, you insisted on being in LA, so you at least wouldn’t be as cooped up there as you were in Graceland and you would have your family nearby. That was one of the biggest fights you’ve had in all the years you’ve been together, as you hated the idea of being in Graceland without him, and he hated the idea of you being in LA without him.

You didn’t relent until you found out why he was so reluctant to have you there. He didn’t want to scare you, but he had learned a while ago that someone had broken into the Hillcrest house. Nothing was taken, but it scared him nonetheless, and he wanted you to stay in Graceland just so he could have the peace of mind. And for all that it made you feel restrained, you can’t help but agree that Graceland is safe so long as you stay within. Red and Pat as Elvis didn’t want you without protection and Pat was pregnant too, so you didn’t have to feel so alone in the house. But Pat, unlike you, was free to leave at any time she pleased and you can’t begrudge her for doing so.

Of course Elvis has been trying to make your confinement easier by calling you every night. He missed you just as much as you did, and didn’t want to go a day without at least hearing your voice. Some calls are sweet, where he asks you to hold the phone to your belly so that he can talk to the baby, and funnily enough you notice that when he does the baby kicks like crazy. There are of course less than sweet calls, the ones that have you be as vocal as possible as you grind down onto his pillow.

Last night's call was different though, just from how much of a mood he had been in already. He had called to tell you that Eric and Joe were on their way back early, and with the venom dripping from his voice, you knew it had to be bad. He didn’t go into detail, but from what you understood is that Eric had been “fucking around” and now Elvis wants nothing to do with him. So much so that he was sent back to Memphis a week earlier than the rest of them, all so that he can get all of his things from Graceland before Elvis’ return. Joe’s only coming to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. With Red already here you figure that the two of them should be able to take him, but you doubt he’ll try anything now of all times when Elvis is so mad at him already.

Eric had been like a looming black cloud over this whole experience, making jabs that he now understood the rush to get married so quickly and how Elvis is now trapped. Elvis was able to deflect these comments by joking how if anything he trapped you. Though in the few times he’s gotten you alone, the comments turned into how Elvis should best make sure you’re having a baby, to how he better make sure it’s his baby. You didn’t like what he was implying but you also knew that he was just saying shit to see what stuck, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Most of the other men had taken the hint when you and Elvis were gushing about how big of a family you wanted and had quietly moved their things out of their designated rooms, and into their own houses, while Eric seemed to dig himself in like a tick. You know Elvis is never about to ask someone to leave, and much as you would like to see this man off for the last time you decided it would be best not to counter him and to just stay upstairs for the time being.

The uppermost floor was your and Elvis’ own little world, where you two were just a young married couple awaiting the arrival of the first addition to your family. This is where the two of you could retreat away from everyone and just be. But with one of you gone it felt wrong, and you find yourself restlessly cleaning and organizing the floor above trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his return.

Though being roughly a little over seven months, you’re almost immediately exhausted and you find yourself resting your feet in what will become the baby’s room. It’s quickly become your favorite room in all of Graceland, with the little stuffed animals everywhere and the music notes painting the wall. You have no idea if the baby is going to be a boy or girl, but Elvis swears that he’s ready to pull the trigger on a theme the moment you figure it out.

“¿Qué piensas?” you say to your bump, enjoying the breeze from the open balcony door. “Una patada para los vaqueros o dos para las princesas.” The baby kicks three times, and you laugh while rubbing your belly. Later on you would recognize this to truly be your last moment of peace.

“How precious,” a vile voice sneers at you.

Your smile instantly drops and rather than acknowledge him, you look out the window with your hand protectively over your baby. They're kicking up a storm, almost beat for beat matching your heart rate. “Elvis says, you’re not allowed to be up here,” you say curtly.

"He also says to keep the dogs outside, but I see a little bitch right in front a me."

"I think big bitch would be more appropriate," you say, all the while rubbing your belly. He's always hated not being able to get a reaction out of you, or how you've never gone to Elvis about what he does as though he's not worth the air it would take to do so. Counter to what people believe about people like you, you’re very capable of keeping your cool and you save your passion for your love not your hatred. And you have no love for Eric.

“You must be so goddamn proud a yourself, being able to get your claws in him like you did,” he spits out. “Struttin’ around here with that little bastard in your belly like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Wait, I thought I was a dog?”

“...What?”

“I’m confused because you said I was a dog and now you’re saying I’m a cat.” you say coyle while sarcastically throwing your hands in the air. “Tell me Eric, what am I?”

“You’re a little fuckin’ whore is what you are!” he shouts. “You know damn well that there wasn’t no break-in at Hillcrest. He just doesn’t want you in LA because he don’t want you fuckin’ around behind his back! I tried tellin’ him as much, but he didn’t want to hear none of it.”

You stand up and walk out of the room, not willing to hear anymore lies of a sad miserable man that has been digging his own grave for years. You weren’t even there, so he cannot seriously blame you for whatever he did to get himself fired. You know better than most how hot Elvis can run, but you also know how quick he is to forgive, so whatever he said or did to get Elvis this way, must have truly been something.

You make your way to the office, hoping to lock yourself in there and that his outburst caused enough of a commotion to get the other men’s attention. He’s still spewing vile at you, but you’re simply blocking it out until you feel a hand yank your head back hard.

Everything happens quick after that, as you feel the back of your being yanked away from your intended destination and being led to a different direction. You try your best to scratch at the hand that holds your hair, but his grip is too tight and suddenly you’re flying.

And then you’re not.

You’re frozen at the landing, not wanting to believe what had just happened. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you feel your face get wet, and most horrifyingly, your baby is not moving. The carpet on the floor begins to be dotted with red but you don’t understand where it’s coming from until a little blood makes its way into your eye. As you hear the heavy footfalls coming down the stairs you start hyperventilating, trying to get a hold of the bannister and praying that he’ll stop.

Getting to the railing you hear someone shouting what was that!?!? And someone else shouting where’d he go!?!? You see the others finally at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment the nightmare is over and you think he wouldn’t be so stupid as to continue now, but then you feel a foot firmly place itself on your back. You’re thrown off balance and you’re plummeting down once again. You’re abruptly put to a stop as Red and Joe meet you halfway up the stairs, and they share a worried look at you. You feel fine now, but you will admit that the slick feeling coming from between your legs is uncomfortable.

You’re confused as to what’s going on, Red rushes his way up the stairs to your tormentor who only gives you a cold look as he’s being restrained. Joe is helping you to your feet and rushing you out the front door while Pat grabs your purse and yells at Mary to call Elvis.

They’re taking you to the cars and you’re not sure why, you just need to clean the blood off of yourself and you’ll be fine. It isn’t until you look down and see the dark red that stains your blue dress do you realize what’s happening.

Joe was able to get you to the hospital without issue, but your journey didn’t get any easier from there. The whole experience was nothing but a nightmare for you. Your accented English and skin tone has the nurses trying to direct you to, quote, a more “appropriate,” hospital for you. Even the blood staining the front of your dress and the clear pain you’re in doesn’t seem to sway them. You’re ignored by the staff, as you beg to be seen by a doctor and it’s not until you slap your driver's license on the counter and they see your married name do they suddenly care very much about you and your baby. Or at the least they don’t want to be known as the hospital that turned away Elvis Presley’s wife.

They get you in a wheelchair, and as they take you to the maternity ward, they repeatedly ask you questions and you’re positive you’re speaking English, but none of them seem to understand you. Not even three hours ago you were complaining to Mary how the baby was giving you heartburn, and now you’re in a hospital, with not a single familiar face in sight, begging incoherently for someone to save your baby.

This is why you had wanted to be in California, where you would have a better chance of having a doctor that spoke Spanish with you. But now here in Memphis, you’re more likely to get a unicorn to deliver your baby, than a doctor that can speak your first language.

Your legs are held apart by nurses, who don’t care to be gentle with you, as you desperately cling to the rails of your hospital bed, feeling like you’re going to crack your teeth as you desperately push the baby out of you. The pain you feel from the rest of your injuries is nothing compared to this, but you feel like you're seconds away from passing out after each push. But you know you have to keep going because every second that the baby is still in there, the less likely they are to make it.

And with one final push it’s all over. Amá told you how long the whole thing could be, but your baby came into the world quick and so quiet. You can feel yourself bleeding out more and more, but you still want to see your baby and you ask as much before you pass out.

When you come to, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know how long you’ve been there, and all the staff is willing to tell you is that you're restricted to bed rest due to the fact that you nearly died from a hemorrhage, and that your baby girl is alive. That’s how you find out you have a daughter, and all you know about her is that she’s alive and you can’t see her.

You allow for visitors, and the only ones who do come to see you are Pat and Joan, Joe’s wife. Despite your wish to not be alone, seeing Pat’s baby bump only gave you an empty feeling. They let you know that you had been given birth two days ago, that Red and Joe are holding down Graceland, and most importantly Elvis is going to be here soon.

You don’t ask about Eric.

You’re glad they’re here even if all you can do at the moment is cry, and feel hollow on the inside.

He looks awful, is your first thought when you see your husband for the first time in almost a month. His eyes are bloodshot, his outfit is wrinkled, and you can see a hint of stubble even from where you're sitting. The girls quickly make their way out as Elvis makes his way over to your side, his chest heaving and his breathing ragged.

Elvis is not one for tears, but you can only watch helplessly as the love of your life falls apart in your arms. You thought you'd cried yourself dry at this point, but even now you find yourself holding back even more tears as you try to wipe his tears away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whimpers against your palm. Your heart is in your throat at this point, knowing he only ever calls you by your name when it’s serious. “I shoulda been here for ya’, this is all my fault.”

“Amor… Amor, please look at me,” you beg. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Y/N, please tell me what happened,” he pleads.

“They didn’t tell you?”

“They did… I-I just,” he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I need to hear it from you.”

You’re trying to get your breathing under control, but finally you whisper to him what happened. You’re saddened and humiliated as you tell him how your own pride got you into this mess. The pride that liked to frustrate and rile up Eric, because you thought it was funny. The pride that prevented you from telling Elvis, because you wanted to feel like you were the one handling it. The pride that made you turn your back on a man you knew to be dangerous, because you thought he would never do anything to you. And now people are suffering because of you.

You beg him for forgiveness in the part you played in this, and you’re honestly surprised when he sticks by you and you bury your face in his chest. He tells you there is nothing to forgive, but you can see the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he asks if you want to press charges against him, and you shoot that down just as quickly.

You don’t trust the police, something that has been with you since your earliest memory, Apá telling you about his scars that he got for having the audacity to wear a Zoot Suit as a young man. Navy men had beaten and stripped him in the streets and then afterwards policemen who saw the whole thing arrested him as though he were the problem. It was a scary thing to tell a little girl, but the older you got the clearer the story became: the police aren’t there to help people like you.

That’s why you told Elvis not to take it to the police, just to have Eric leave Graceland and never come back. It’s going to be a hassle getting the state to acknowledge your daughter as his, let alone getting them to recognize that anything bad happened to you. You just want to put this whole thing behind you and never have to think about this again. Elvis frowns at that, but you doubt after everything you went through he’s gonna deny you this.

After things have settled, the doctors make their way to your room, now that Elvis is here, they’ve decided now is a good time to tell you what’s happened. They tell you that the fall caused something called placental abruption and as a result you went into labor prematurely. It also caused internal hemorrhaging that caused you to pass out. None of that mattered to you really, you simply wanted your baby with you, and you let them know as much.

The doctors share a look, but they allow you to leave the bed and Elvis wheels you to where they’re keeping your baby. There is a whole team of doctors and nurses to greet you and tell you how you can see her, and what to prepare for. They escort the two of you to a private room farther away and with private security guarding it.

And then you see her… Your baby girl.

You never thought babies could be so small.

She lies there, wires attached to her and tubes up her nose. She’s too small to even know how to eat and they have to use a tube in her mouth and a needle in her hand. Her little feet kick at the air, her tiny fists are clenched, and her eyes are shut tight, but you're glad to see it all, to know that your baby is still fighting, still daring to live.

You want to be able to hold her, to let her know her mamá is there with her, but they tell you she’s not ready to be outside of her box yet, and they warn you of how delicate she is right now, and that the slightest change in her environment could be devastating, so touch is to be limited. The doctors told you that they had almost lost her in the beginning, but she’s a fighter and things are looking up.

They leave the two of you alone with her, when one of the nurses playfully suggests Erica as a first name on her way out. All at once it hits you like a freight train, why your baby is the way she is now and who is to blame. You weep silently, so she can’t hear your grief over the situation: your baby is weak, so you have to be strong for her now.

“I hate him. I hate him so much.” You sob, your hand pressing on to the warm glass that separated you and your child. Elvis wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t need to ask who you’re talking about.

All this time Elvis has been so quiet, and he swiftly wraps you in his arms as he promises to take care of everything, and as he wipes the tears from your face he swears that he will make everything better again.

You know, in spite of the horror that it was to get her here, you’re both overjoyed to finally be able to meet her. But all too soon the both of you are escorted out and away from her. They explain that once you’re discharged, you and only you will be able to stay with her on a long-term basis, but policy prevents Elvis from being able to do so as well. No amount of money or argument will change that.

The next few days you vaguely register the visitors Elvis brings to see you, but you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. They all come with well wishes and promises to do anything the two of you need during this time. The men look haunted to see you in such a state and they promise you that they’ll personally make sure Eric never does anything like this again. It’s little consolation to you considering it already happened once.

Finally you’re discharged and you walk yourself straight to the NICU. You visited her as often as you could, as did Elvis, and getting to be with her throughout the day is a step in the right direction. Being there with him makes it easier, but soon Elvis has to leave and your heart breaks all over again. You part with a long sorrowful kiss and you save your tears, knowing that of all times, this is the moment you need to be strong, for both him and your daughter. It was a hard, sleepless night for you and one look at the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his knuckles when you see him the next morning, tells you that Elvis had a similar night to you.

He smoothes out your brow, as he softly pleads with you not to worry about him and instead to focus on your daughter, as she’s the one who needs you the most. And as he gives you a kiss on your forehead and you wonder what you did to deserve such a loving husband.

You begged Amá to stay home, not wanting to have to worry about her being this down south without you. She’s apparently been praying everyday for you and the baby, and she’s begging you for the name. You want to tell her so badly, but you can’t risk telling her fearing it will somehow get back to the world at large.

You and Elvis had thought long and hard about the perfect name for your first-born and with everyone seemingly wanting to have a say in it, it was a little overwhelming (with how easy your pregnancy was going you stupidly thought that this was going to be your biggest hurdle to overcome. You wish you could go back to those days).

Eventually though you were able to come to some agreement born from your mutual love of I Love Lucy, though the names mostly stemmed from a joke when some of the magazines started calling you two the new Lucy and Desi. Neither of you could figure out who was supposed to be Lucy and who was supposed to be Desi. And as a play on that, the two of you ultimately decided on Lucía for a girl and Richard for a boy, as a fun little reversal.

You had been so eager to tell the world about your beautiful baby not even a week ago and now it feels like the last piece of this whole ordeal that you can control. Even the hospital staff only know her as “Baby Presley,” promising that you would only name her once she was discharged. Someone had snuck into the hospital and was able to get a picture of your baby in a box attached to wires and fighting for her life, while the newspapers excitedly announced “It’s Girl!” to all of America. Your husband saw his own daughter for the first time on the front of a newspaper walking into the hospital before he could see her in person or even know if you were dead or alive. It felt like the whole world saw your baby before you did and that hurts you in a way that you fail to find words for in either language you speak.

That entire stay, you didn’t leave the hospital once, and you rarely ever left her side, and even then it was only when Elvis could be in there with her in your stead. The days all seemed to blend together for you, you would eat so she could eat, you would sleep when she slept, singing and telling her stories everywhere in between, and touching her as frequently as you’re allowed to do so.

Early when you tried to speak Spanish to her in front of the doctors, they immediately shut you down, “warning” you that doing so has the potential to hold her back if she has to learn another language in the long run. You internally roll your eyes at that, having grown up speaking both, but nonetheless you comply, but save it for when you’re alone with her. On the list of things you absolutely do not need right now is the media turning on you for being a bad mother by not complying with doctors orders. They already make comments on how you should have been more careful in the situation, because as far as anyone outside of Graceland knows, you simply fell down the stairs.

You wouldn’t say it was all bad, you love the moments you’re all together. Moments where you both hold her hands at the same time and feel her delicate skin, where you hear her gurgle as she’s being tickled, and especially the way she wiggles her arms and feet as Elvis sings to her, are ll moments you would never trade trade regardless of the fact that you’re in a cold sterile room and not in your warm home. Elvis even brought a record player and the nights became a little more bearable as now you’re both able to hear him when he’s not there.

Finally you’re able to get the all clear from the doctor and Lucía finally gets to experience the world outside of her little clear box for the first time in short bursts. You’ll be able to hold your baby fully and not be limited to just holding her hand. In many ways you were not ready to lose being so close to her so fast, and this was only made worse by the fact of how limited you were in touching your own baby during this whole time. And still you worry that maybe she’s still not ready, as you’re still roughly a month away from your original due date.

But as you’re finally able to hold her and you feel her latch on and nurse from you, these doubts and fears all fall silent. Your baby was almost completely ripped away from you, by someone who only had cruelty and spite in their heart for you. But now as she rests in your arms and feeds from you getting stronger, and your husband holds the two of you close to him everything feels as it should be now.

Not too long after that, Lucía is finally able to be discharged and you can finally take her home. Elvis was nervous no doubt, from all the times he questioned the doctor if he was sure that she was ready and if she couldn’t stay a little longer just to be sure. You have similar thoughts but you’re trying to think on the brighter side of the situation, for the both of you.

Of course you and Elvis still have to do that photoshoot for the press. You hate this, but also recognize that getting this out of the way now will sate their curiosity about your baby and get them to leave you alone, at least for now. You and Elvis recognized this would be the case when you saw them go into a near frenzy the moment you stepped off that plane from Hawaii with an obvious baby bump months ago.

Ironically enough the only thing that has gone according to plan was this aspect, as you were able to get photographers you’re familiar with and Elvis brought the outfits you picked out months ago. His fans were also willing to give the two of you a wide berth so that you could leave the hospital. You are far too enamored with Lucía to really take notice of any of it, until the two of you are already in front of home.

Your mood drops once you see where you are, and Elvis takes notice of that. He squeezes your hand and reassures you that everything's been cleaned and that the trash’s been taken out. Still, walking through the front door, you held onto his arm for dear life and your hands were shaking so bad you had him hold Lucía, as you were afraid you would drop her. You're greeted inside by a few friends and his family, but your eyes immediately narrow in on the stairs and you're relieved to see that it’s completely clean. Without the bloodstains, it’s easier to forget that anything terrible happened here.

Everyone wants to get to see her and the two of you are immediately, but a squeeze to his arm from you and the subsequent single look he gives them has them back up a little. You’re able to sit down in the living room, and hold your baby in your home for the first time, but not all is right in the world. No one has said anything about the big Eric shaped elephant in the room, as they all no doubt know why you went into labor so early.

The women do their best to distract you from it, talking about their own experiences being a new mother, and how this has been a stressful time for everyone, especially the men who’ve been jumpy for weeks now. But no matter what your attention keeps being drawn back to the stairs, as though any minute Eric’s going to be trotting down to finish the job any moment now. You try to distract yourself with anything else in the room, and that’s when you notice something off about the carpet. You figured that the carpet would have been replaced but what’s odd is the fact that you remember going straight from the staircase to the car as you were bleeding, so you don’t understand why the carpet in the den had to have been replaced too.

You shake these concerns from your head and begin to make your way outside to get some air, because the walls are making you feel like you’re going to suffocate. That’s where you find the men, as all smoking within Graceland had been banned for the foreseeable future, and Elvis still insisted on finally using those cigars he got for the occasion. What’s weird is that they don’t surround the patio or even the pool area. No, you find them more out towards the field, surrounding a large unsightly hole in the ground.

“Amor, what did you do to the backyard?” You question your husband when he makes his way back to where you’re sitting.

Some of the men tense up at your question, but seeing Elvis not really react to the question other than a slightly nervous laugh, makes you disregard anything’s amiss.

“Well…” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “after I got done with the nursery. I-I wanted to add something to the backyard so it wasn’t so empty to look at.”

“... and you decided the best way to make it less empty was to dig a hole?”

“It ain’t gon’ stay a hole, Darlin’,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around you. “I was plannin’ on puttin’ in one a them Gazebos in the back for our little princess here. It… It kept me busy the nights I couldn't sleep.”

You soften at that answer, knowing that with his sleep issues, the nights must have been torture for him. He was always the first visitor to arrive at the ward and the last one to leave, and only once did you ever dare ask what he did when he went home at night. You worried about him, how could you not? And so one day you gathered the courage to ask him how he was handling the nights?

All he said was that he “keeps busy.” At the time you didn’t want to know what he meant, as it was a stressful time for the both of you, so digging holes in the backyard is far from the worst thing he could have been doing.

You give an amused sigh saying, “Next time, get professionals to do it.”

He grins at that, “Don’t worry baby, we got a crew comin’ in to fill the hole in a few days. I wanted to have it done before you and the lil’ one got back home.” You shake your head at him and kiss him on the cheek. You don’t really notice the way most of the men take a simultaneous sigh of relief at your acceptance of Elvis’ answer.

Later on you’re putting Lucía down in a little bassinet Elvis had set by your bed (you’re both reluctant to be away from her), and you feel him make his way behind you. The both of you lay beside each other and watch her sleep, and now, not having to be obscured by tubes or glass, you get to really see your beautiful baby girl. She’s sleeping with her arms straight up, her little chest rising and falling on its own, and the two of you nearly melt as she yawns and rubs her little mitten covered hands over her face.

“You ready to sleep yet?” he whispers to you.

“No, I just want to look at her some more.”

“Me too,” he hums.

You sit with your husband and bask in this perfect moment.

You didn’t really notice the off-atmosphere that surrounded Graceland in those days, until you noticed that a trunk of yours was missing. You think you had packed some old baby things your mother had given you the last time you had been in LA. It had been with you in Graceland before you left the hospital, and it had also been where you were storing the outfit you wore when you left the hospital, so the fact that it’s gone is odd to say the least. Considering Elvis was the one that brought the outfit to you, he’s the one you end up asking.

“What trunk?” he asks.

“The big white one,” you say to him as you change Lucía into her pajamas. She’s trying to eat her fist and you’re trying to get her to smile by nibbling on her fingers a little. “The one you got me the first time in Hawaii.”

“Oh that one,” he responds. “Didn’t you leave it at Hillcrest?”

“No, I know I brought it here.” you say confused. “I asked you to look in it to find the pink outfit I wore at the hospital. It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

He furrows his brow at that and he looks deep in thought, “Didn’tcha say that you didn’t want to pack clothes that don’t fit no more?” He says as he brings Lucía to rest on his bare chest.

You do vaguely remember saying something along those lines when you were packing, but still you remember having it here with you. “Maybe… but I did bring it here,” you say, though not as sure as you once were.

“Y/N, why you wanna know so bad?” he says, as he gently pats Lucia on the back trying to get her to fall asleep. This question throws you a bit, not for the words themselves, but the way he said it, as there was a severe lack of humor or warmth in his tone as he said that, that you weren’t used to.

“I-I was looking for a few baby things that Amá gave me last time I saw her.” you say, suddenly feeling guilty for pushing the topic.

His eyes soften at your answer, realizing he scared you. He holds up your chin and gives a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I-I think, I saw ‘em when I I was lookin’ for the little pink get up a yours,” you see him jump a little. “Though you might wanna save the lookin’ for tomorrow,” he says, a slight grimace on his face, as he looks down at your baby girl. “‘Cuz lil’ one here is trying to tap a dry well.” You burst out laughing as you see that Lucía has a good grip on one of his nipples and is trying desperately to bring it to her mouth.

“Esos son para mamá, chula,” you jokingly scold her, as you bring her close to you so she can latch onto you, and Elvis tickles your side in reprimand. Still even with that moment of levity, you still can’t let go of what just happened. If it were anything else you would have written it off but that trunk was special to you because of the fact that Elvis had given it to you on that fateful trip to Hawaii. He had insisted you pack light, which confused you until about a week later when by that point he had already gifted you twice as many dresses as you had come with. By the end of the trip he gave you this trunk just to pack everything he had given you. (Smooth operator that he was, when the trunk found its way into his room when you got back home, he insisted it would be easier for you to move into his room, rather than moving the trunk into yours).

It has been a pretty constant presence in your relationship with him, as it went where you went, and you went where he went. But… you didn't go with him to Hawaii, and you did leave a lot of old clothes back in LA… maybe it is just baby brain, and you’re overthinking this.

Things only really seem to click that something is off a few days later when you caught Charlie staring out into the backyard. If it were anybody else from the group you wouldn’t have noticed or cared too much, but you liked Charlie. He seemed to be one of the more genuine ones of them all, and he’s also one of the few of them who's at least picked up on some of the more common Spanish phrases in all the years you’ve known him.

But now Charlie seems distant, as though he’s somewhere else in his head. He’s staring off into the same direction as where that pit is now.

“Charlie, ¿qué pasa?” you ask, and he seems to jump ten feet in the air.

“Y/N, hi-hello… um…I-I, d-do ya’ need something?” he manages to stutter out.

“Yes umm…” you say slightly embarrassed about what you’re about to ask. “I want to put Lucía down for a nap, but I need someone else to help carry her up there with me.” You would have asked Elvis, but he’s upstairs already and you’re not about to leave her alone to go get him.

“Sure, but… why do you need help,” he asks, genuinely confused over the request.

“I… well, since the fall, I… I don’t trust myself to hold her on the stairs,” you say, your eyes going a bit glassy. You shake your head to gather yourself, “I ju-just need someone else to carry her on the stairs. I’m fine on my own.” If by fine you meant having to have both feet on each step going up and down, and never letting go of the railing, then yes very fine. Elvis was heartbroken when he saw this the first time, but didn’t say anything about it, just offered you his arm and let you take your time.

Charlie has the same reaction and wordlessly helps you with her. Though you do trail behind him you eventually are able to make it up to the landing, where you see Elvis whispering something to him. You think he says something to the effect, you understand now? Charlie would give a small nod in response as he hands Lucía to him and makes his way down the stairs after giving you a quick hug.

You’re about to ask what that was about, when you see something on one of the steps that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You see a familiar looking rust colored spot on one step, and you force yourself to sit down, feeling unsteady on your feet and your eyes welling up all of a sudden.

“Baby what's wrong?” Elvis says trotting down the steps, Lucía still in his arms. Your hands are shaking and your breathing quicker than you should, and you're filled with the same dread that you felt as Eric walked down those same steps. “Goddamnit, I thought they got all of it” he whispers when he sees where your eyes are fixated. He crouches down beside you and takes you in his arms as he whispers in your “You’re okay sweetheart,” he says, “You and Lucía are okay.”

Gradually you feel yourself steady as you breathe in the scent of his cologne, and feel the way Lucía clutches around your finger. That brings you back down and you’re able to stop your weeping as you focus solely on the two most important people in your life.

You wouldn’t know this, but at the bottom of the steps, just beyond your view several men would come to the same understanding as Charlie did in that moment.

What did he mean about understanding? You would ask yourself later after Lucia had been fed and put down for a nap. You’re laying down in his arms, having tired yourself out from that episode, and just wanting to rest, but this question that rings in your ear, still eats at you making you unable to do so.

These thoughts are halted as you feel him run a finger down your spine and you on reflex push your chest into his. You also feel as he brings his hips closer to yours, and he hooks your leg around his waist, lightly trailing his hand back up your skirt to rest comfortably on your ass, as you let out a shuddering breath against him, making as little noise as possible, as not to wake your baby.

He’s gentle with you, you just had his baby after all. There was no tearing so you’re healed physically, but you're glad nonetheless as you become reacquainted with his touch again. His fingers lightly trace the edge of your panties, as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like.

You’re reminded of your first time with him. He had been having trouble with one particular scene in Blue Hawaii, and he asked you to come on to the set that night. He had you sit as an extra behind Joan Blackman and he kept stealing glances at you as he sang. As the scene cut there was not a dry eye on set and Elvis was heaped with praise for his best take yet, but what he was more interested in was your reaction to his song.

He was gentle with you then as well. You confided in him before that you were untouched, and he made sure to make it as tender as possible. Careful, as he learned (as did you) what made you whimper, what made you moan, what made you scream.

Knowing he’s gone just as long without it as you have, you want to. God, do you want to, but as you grind yourself onto his still clothed length, he makes the mistake of tugging your hair back and suddenly you're paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of dread as he kisses your neck. It takes him a second to realize that this is bad heavy breathing, but he stops the moment he realizes it.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His worried look only makes you feel more guilty, while you try to even out your breathing. This feeling only made worse as you watch his heartbreak all over again when you tell him why you freaked out when he tugged at your hair like he did.

“I’m always gon’ protect ya’ Satnin,” he whispers to you, mindful of your baby sleeping a few feet away. “Nothin’s ever gon’ hurthcha again.”

You want to believe him. You really do.

It all comes to a head when the day before they’re set to fill the hole in the backyard, you finally find your trunk. Embarrassed at your reaction to being on some stairs, you decided to try to break this habit by confronting your fears. So one day as Lucía slept, you made your way to the attic stairs, but your fears were quickly forgotten as you stared at the previously missing trunk. It’s hard to comprehend its presence as it’s supposed to be on the other side of the country right now. Or… at least that’s what Elvis had told you.

Whatever the case may be you can’t exactly leave it alone, and you go to inspect it a little closer. It won’t open and a brief brush on the keyhole tells you that it had been locked and the key lodged inside. You also see some dents and dings here and there, but the most noticeable change were some rust colored stains dotting the outside of it. You don’t immediately recognize what they could be, but even as your mind conjures up similar looking stains that are still on the stairs, you can’t really accept what it is.

“Whatcha doin’ up here baby?” a familiar voice behind you says, startling you for a moment. You turn to see your husband, but something is … off. His smile is a little too big, his eyes a little too wide, and if his jaw was clenched any tighter he would have cracked his teeth. It’s all far too unsettling

“I-I was practicing with the stairs, and I found this,” you say, pointing to the trunk.

Somehow he’s able to clench his teeth even tighter as he sees what you found, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, sweetheart. But I,” he says , pausing to think on his next words. “I-I… Forget it you caught me. I broke the lock on it.” he says with a guilty look on his face.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s all, baby. I wanted to try to fix it, but I just made it worse and now it won’t open.”

Maybe… maybe he is telling the truth and he just broke the lock… but that wouldn't explain why everything kept in there was taken out or why it was up in the attic, or why it’s covered in blood. Why is he hiding this from you?

“C’mon Satnin, it ain’t nothin’ to get so worked up about? I’ll getcha another one soon,” he says as he wraps an arm around you.

You don’t have time to really question what is going on as you hear Lucía below and you're able to stamp down that curious part of yourself. You make your way back, your feet feeling so unsteady that you clutch onto him with both hands.

But it still eats at you, the fact that he was able to lie so easily to you, and convince you of that lie when he knew full well it was up here. And why hide it from you? These are all questions you ask yourself as you lay in bed with him, you wonder who exactly you are sharing it with.

Your blood goes cold as you feel the bed shift right next to you, and you slam your eyes shut, genuinely fearing your husband for the first time. But these feelings of fear dissipate as feel the quick kiss he gives your forehead before whispering to you, so low you barely hear it, “No one’s ever gon’ hurtcha and get away with it.” You’re paralyzed with fear, and have to remind yourself to breathe lest you give away that you're not actually asleep as he makes his way to the bathroom.

You open your eyes and stare at the door and the longer you listen the clearer it becomes that he’s not using the bathroom. You also hear as several feet try to quietly make their way up the stairs and then you hear the tell-tale creak of the attic door. You silently make your way to the door and listen against it as you hear them

You stare off into darkness as the noise gradually lessens until you’re left hearing nothing but the crickets outside and your baby’s steady breathing. You stay there frozen in place, debating internally whether you should follow them. You know in your heart that something is wrong, but you don’t want to confront it. Still after some time you find yourself in the kitchen making your way outside.

As you round the corner, you're hit with the pungent scent of cigar smoke in the air mixed with the unmistakable smell of a campfire, and you see him and all the other men stripped down to their underwear. You crouch down out of sight and you see they are all surrounding the fire pit in the backyard, piles of clothes sit next to each of them, and on occasion one of them will throw something into the fire. All of them seem to be shaking from the cold or from nervousness you can’t quite tell. All of them… except for Elvis. You know he’s prone to getting jittery when he’s nervous, but here, you’ve never seen him so collected.

“Eric was one a my oldest buddies, and he threw that all away ‘cause he had to be a shithead to the most important person in the world to me.” Those words, cold as a grave, mixed with that vacant look in his eyes, sent shivers down your spine. “There’s a lotta things I can forgive, but what he did sure as hell ain’t one a them.”

“EP…” Jerry says. “You don’t gotta explain yourself, we-we all woulda done the same thing.”

“I’m goin’ ta hell because that sack a shit, and I look forward to seein’ him again, just so I can beat the crap outta him again.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he says these words, as he seems to rub his knuckle, the ones you remember seeing so badly bruised when you were in the hospital.

It’s unsettling how similar this is to when you met Elvis for the first time, you crouched down, being nosy, him in his boxers trying to hide someone from you. It would be funny if you weren’t one hundred percent sure that your husband wasn’t admitting to murder right now. You don’t stick around for much longer, your curiosity is sated, but you don’t feel any better knowing.

You don’t know when or how you end up there, but you find yourself on the stairway landing. Once upon a time you thought of Graceland as a safe haven surrounded by shark infested waters, but now you realize that that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re swimming in it, but the biggest shark had decided that you were never to be harmed.

You want to say that there was some internal debate on that landing, where you contemplated leaving and never looking back. How you wanted to do the morally right thing and report them for all the good it would do. How there was a part of you that stared longingly at the door feeling the desire to leave from the love that has driven him to do this for you.

You would say that… but you would be lying.

No. You sit there taking in the new reality that the man who has repeatedly physically and emotionally hurt you is gone and it was at the hands of the man you loved the most. You feel something at this moment. A feeling that has eluded you for a while now. You feel… safe.

It’s an odd feeling to have again. It was something you had always felt with Elvis, but not something you were ever able to verbalize. But now looking back you were always safe with him, when people got too close, when their words hurt, when their stares burned, you could always retreat into him and feel protected from the world.

There’s a lot of conflicting emotions running through you all at once, pain and sadness at what Eric had done and all the subsequent heartache his actions brought clashing with the almost euphoric relief that is knowing he’s gone for good and it’s all due to how loved you are by a single man. If anybody were to see you right now, they would see a woman with tears streaming down her face while simultaneously giggling like a maniac. You’re only broken from this manic episode when you hear the shrill cry of your baby girl.

You feel lighter as you make your way up the stairs, so light you don’t bother to hold the railing as you usually do and you find your baby right where you left her. Your husband would return later while she’s still suckling at you, and he would make his way to sit behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, neither of you acknowledge how long he’s been gone. No, in the soft light of the room you both bask in each other watching the little wonder you both made get a little bigger and a little stronger by the moment resting in the bassinet by your bed.

“I just realized something,” you say. You feel him go rigid behind you, but you quickly break the tension by lightly running a finger along the ridge of his nose. “She got this from you.”

“No, she didn’t,” he says with an amused huff.

“No, it’s the same shape, just smaller. Look,” you insist. You take one of his hands to show him, careful not to wake her.

He concedes to your point with a soft, tender kiss to your lips, while his other hand rubs circles on your hip bone.

You should be disturbed at where his mind is at right now, and you would be if you weren’t just as hungry for him as he was for you. It’s been too long without him, and as he runs a finger along your jaw bringing your faces closer together, you welcome him back home.

With the straps already falling off of your shoulders, you shiver as he uses a single finger to drag the silky material over your nipples, already begging for his attention that he’s all too willing to give. He languidly laves at them, using the occasional scrape of his teeth to get you to jump, all the while pressing down on your clit through your panties, before removing them.

You're laid on your back and you feel as he spreads the delicate petals of your pussy and even you’re taken aback as to how wet you are right now. You hiss slightly as you feel him probe lightly at your entrance, and he rips his hands back afraid he had hurt you.

You take his hand in yours and bring his fingers to your mouth, tasting yourself on him, only to bring him closer to you as you whisper against his mouth “not bad, just slower papi.” You think, in a way, you both need this: to be reminded that his hands can do more than hurt. You’re not scared of him or what he’s capable of.

He rolls so that you're on top of him and you bite your lip at his straining cock within his boxers. You run a single finger up his length and he bites down on his knuckle as you circle around the damp spot already forming. As you spread kisses along his length, he quietly pleads to be inside you, and after all he’s done for you, you won’t deny him.

Finally you sink down on him, and a long, satisfied moan escapes from your mouth and you chance a look at your baby relieved that she’s still asleep. He gives a cheeky grin, biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet, and you grind down on him in retaliation, though that quickly backfires on you as it feels way too good and you have to concentrate on not doing that again, as you don’t want this to end so soon.

Neither of you are in a hurry at the moment, just choosing to indulge in the connection that circumstances had denied the two of you for so long, sharing lazy kisses and secret jokes in equal measure until you can’t take it anymore. You set the pace for yourself and he is all too willing to oblige and let you chase your peak, as he’s not too far behind. You may very well be in bed with a monster, and yet you’ve never felt safer.

The next day you watch from the Balcony as the men fill the platform with concrete and you get one last look at that trunk, and hope to never see it again. Elvis joins you there, watching and holding you and your daughter, both secure in the knowledge that he’ll always be able to protect you.

You don’t end up thinking about him as much as you thought you would have. In those early days after construction had finished you had feared that the slightest slip up and everybody would know. You felt you could hardly breathe when you looked at it those months, and you were surprised and more than a little disturbed that Elvis had no such reaction to it.

Though eventually a good memory would come to almost completely scrub out the sour taste that the Gazebo leaves you in the form of Lucía’s baptism. Even over a year later she was still so small compared to other babies her age and the doctors warned you to expect some developmental delays, but you still worried over the fact she still has yet to crawl. Most times she seems content enough to sit where she’s put and play with the toys within her reach and getting someone’s attention to get her what she wants. It’s almost as though she’s aware that Elvis is called The King, making her a princess and so she expects to be treated like one.

Recently she’s taken to standing up using whatever’s closest, bouncing up and down on her little legs for a bit then sitting back down. You sat there letting Lucía hold your hands and do her thing, while you talked to some of the other women. Your husband on the other side of the platform, surrounded by Lucía’s godfathers (they helped him hide a body after all, this felt like the least the two of you could do to honor them), talking business.

When you felt her let go your immediate instinct was to grab her, but you stop yourself when you see that she’s not only standing on her own but shakily taking her first steps forward. You and the other women go dead silent as you watch her make a slow but sure beeline, her eyes set on her Daddy. You hold your breath so afraid that she’ll fall, but all of your muscles are tensed ready to dive in and catch her if she so much as stumbled.

Elvis was looking away, not noticing what was happening until she finally got to him and wrapped herself around his leg. Seeing her next to him throws you for a loop, as over a year ago, she was so tiny that she fit almost entirely in one of his hands, and now she stands on her own at his knee, and you really do see how much she has grown. Elvis finally turns around and sees her looking up at him, but with no one around to have helped her he doesn’t put it together until he sees your mile wide grin, and it finally dawns on him what just happened.

You and Elvis would later joke that she, just like him, wouldn’t do something so big without an audience. And for that entire day you didn’t think once about Eric. Your little girl's first steps were over a grave, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

When she was four, you had explained to Lucía that her father had had it built after she was brought home in celebration that the two of you had pulled through. After that she started calling it hers, and it just stuck, even when your other children were born it was always Lucía’s Gazebo. Birthday’s, barbeques, family dinners, many of them were held underneath that gazebo, and only occasionally would you even spare a thought toward Eric.

And now as you watch your daughter dance with your husband underneath the gazebo, celebrating her quinceañera you’re glad Elvis did what he did. If that man had had his way you wouldn’t have any of this, and you refuse to feel anything close to guilt or sympathy for him.

Eventually Elvis breaks away from her to stand next to you as she now embarks on the arduous journey of dancing with her many, many padrinos. You welcome him with a tender kiss, and he holds you from behind as the two of you watch your little girl who is now becoming a woman.

“I swear she was this small yesterday,” he says while rubbing your two-year old son’s back as he rests on your shoulder right now. Elvis had been close to tears all day, with the doll ceremony nearly doing it for him as he always loved spoiling her with toys, so the idea that this would be the last one was very bittersweet for him.

For you it was the shoe ceremony that did bring you to tears, as you held her hand as she took a few shaky steps in her new heels, not so much for the first steps she took as a baby, but the painful reminder of all the things you thought you wouldn’t get to have with your little baby that couldn’t leave her box. You refuse to let that man ruin anything special for you again, and over his grave you whisper in the love of your life’s ear how it’s not too late to have another one. His eyes widen at that for a moment before he gives that devastating grin of his that won you over years ago and agrees to later.

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker

#elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin!elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #yandere!elvis #yandere elvis #yandere #yandere!elvis presley #yandere austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis angst #austin butler #austin butler x reader #latin!reader #latina!reader

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growthf · 2 years ago

Note

hello! can i request zhongli, al haitham, scaramouche, and xiao with m!reader who is a kpopers? isekaid reader/modern au is okay! i just randomly saw your profile and bam! youre a kpopers(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠), its okay if its a girlgroup or boygroup, and if you can only write for only several characters, its also okay! feel free to delete and dont forget to drink water & keep healthy (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

ask and you shall receive! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

✩ zhongli, al haitham, scaramouche, & xiao x k-fan!male!reader

^^; modern au, reader has a slight (large.) obsession

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope this meets your expectations!!

ZHONGLI

occupancies you to every concert, fansigning, and popup store (all attended with your money btw!!!)

your favorite group is performing somewhere across the sea?? you best believe he’ll be right on that plane with you

doesn’t understand fanchants in the slightest, but always loves the look on your face when you’re enjoying yourself

when he first went to a fansigning with you he was confused ?!?!!

don’t all these people have jobs or something???

you had told him it was a popular event within groups and that most take the day off, but he really felt like the world was cramped into a tiny room that day

follows you around whenever you’re shopping or trying to find a new album

watches you open it purely to see your eyes light up when you get a pc of your bias

if you’re into a boy group he’s probably a little jealous you’re screaming over some guy other than him, but it’s not like he’d ever tell you that

“there’s a performance in a neighboring state? it would be fun to see somewhere new together, i’ll come with.”

AL HAITHAM

super confused at first

you like flying millions of miles ?!!?! to see people sing & dance ??? next to millions of other people !?!?

you might as well had him play some musical cartoons if you wanna see people sing & dance–at least it’s free!!

when you explained clearly he understood a little better

he still stays at home though

UNLESS you go out of state or country, he’ll fly with you but just stay in your shared hotel room till you come back

who wants to deal with people that’ll probably rip him apart if he says the wrong thing in the wrong tone

his first time at your house was a tough one

not only were there posters as far as the eye could see, but your desk and most of your shelves were decorated to the brim with merchandise and other things

how could you even afford all that AND pay bills at the same time???

you forced him to a concert once and he nearly broke.

yelling, screaming, shouting, so many lights and flashes, everything happening all at once

made you drive to the hotel that night.

“call me on your way back, i’ll see if room service offers any midnight treats.”

SCARAMOUCHE

went to one concert at had a love hate relationship with it

you’re enjoying yourself? yay!!! you’re screaming over someone other than him?? boo!!

went to all the concerts with you after that just to make sure you didn’t get any funny ideas

went to a fansigning and oh. my. god.

nearly passed out before y’all made it to the car

he made a mental note for himself to go everywhere BUT fansignings after that incident

bought an album for you as a birthday gift and the way you practically melted made him confused??!?!

what’s so special about pictures of some people who don’t even know you??

(made sure to keep up on your favorite group(s)/solos to see if there’s any upcoming albums so he can see your reaction again)

if you have a decked out room AND ita bag, he’s probably questioned how you manage to stay housed a couple of times

how can you afford bills, concerts, AND merchandise, yet you couldn’t afford the $2 cookies at your last hang out???

does not understand your money logic in the slightest

“anything happening this weekend? ..a fansigning.. you go ahead and have fun, i think i’ll pass on this one..”

XIAO

a mix of al haitham and zhongli tbh

wants to see you have fun but also doesn’t wanna be around all those screaming people

will accompany you to a concert every now and then depending on when and where they’re taking place

says he forgets all your biases but has a note on his phone with every name you mention on it

even follows most of their socials, too

you wonder sometimes how he manages to keep up with things that even you haven’t heard about yet and he’s glad you haven’t figured him out

whenever you talk about a new album or single releasing soon, you’ll always find it outside your door despite not ordering it yet

went with you to a fansigning and honestly he kinda enjoyed it

i mean yeah, the lines were hell and the people in line were annoying–but he liked how your face lit up when you finally made it to the front and got the signature you stood nearly a whole day for

made a promise to keep going with you even if others around were so nauseatingly loud

you showed him your photocard collection for the first time, and he was genuinely impressed with it

when and where did you even get all the money for them!?!

he checks in regularly to see if you have any new additions to the already large collection once in a while now

“what was the name of that group you liked again? right. well, they’re having a performance next week–it’s real close by, too.”

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racinginchid3nt · 1 year ago

Text

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Two

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre

Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild references to hookups but nothing graphic

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

————————————————————————

Friday

Free practice was cool, but qualifying was absolutely exhilarating. It was one thing to see the cars on tv, but seeing them in person was a different story. It was the first time you really truly understood just how fast they were going. The sounds rang through the paddock. The stands were already crowded, fans coming out in force to watch.

You snapped a picture with your best friend. She sported a light pink purse and Alpine top in support of Pierre. You went a more neutral route, light wash jeans, a plain black top, and a cream bag. It felt wrong for you to wear another team or drivers gear when you were in the alpine paddock, so you opted to forgo any merch.

As you and Y/N Best Friend walked in you noticed fans taking your picture. She gave a polite smile and a wave while you tried to keep a low profile. While your friend didn’t mind the mild celebrity that came with dating a driver, the idea of people invading your privacy was enough for you to shy away in hopes you would be cropped out. Besides, who cared about outfits during free practice anyways?

The alpine car glided around the track smoothly, this wasn’t Pierre’s first time driving Spa, and it showed. It had a lot of bad memories for him, and you hoped he had a better race this year. Your train of thought was interrupted by your friend.

“Oh shit. We ended up on the wag account Y/N. I know it’s not your thing but it looks like they didn’t tag you. Do you want me to not tag you in things this weekend? Your face is kind of hidden in it.” Your best friend said.

“Um. I don’t really know. Im not dating anyone obviously so I think it should be fine. They won’t care about me anyways.”

But you would come to learn that the fans were much too inquisitive for their own good.

————————————————————————

Saturday

Y/N Best Friend knocked on your door bright and early Saturday morning. She had been sleeping in Pierre’s room the entire trip, coming back only for clothes and necessities or to hang out when Pierre was busy.

As the two of you got ready for the day, crowding the counter with makeup and hair tools, she ran you through on the plan for the day. You’d head to the sprint early, stay until the end, and then spend some time relaxing afterwards.

When you arrived at the track, the crowds were massive. The walkway to the paddock entrance was roped off, but it did nothing to restrain the crowds as they screamed at Pierre. You hugged your friend goodbye and continued on through security.

You headed quickly to the Alpine hospitality to grab a pastry and a coffee. As you made your way through the paddock, you stared at the crowds. Flags and banners covered the grandstands, a sea of colorful hats and shirts, supporting the various drivers.

As you stopped to take it all in, you heard a voice.

“Crazy isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You replied.

“First time in the paddock?” The voice replied.

“First time at a race.”

“Well, this is definitely the way to do it. I’m Carlos. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you having a good weekend so far?”

“Yes. It’s been wonderful. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Carlos! Where’d you go man?” A voice yelled in the distance.

“Over here!” He replied.

As you turned around you saw Lando Norris make his way to the two of you.

“Oh I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Lando asked.

“No no. You’re fine!” You replied.

“Lando, meet Y/N. Y/N meet Lando.” Said Carlos.

The younger man greeted you with a wide smile.

“We’ll hello Y/N! It’s lovely to meet you. How do you know Carlos?” He replied.

“We actually just met.” You said.

“Oh cool. Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah, my friend is somewhere. I’m supposed to be meeting back up with her before the sprint starts.”

The noise of your phone ringing, drew the conversation to an end.

“That’s her. I have to take this. Lovely meeting you both, good luck!” You said.

“Lovely meeting you as well” The two boys said at the same time, turning to walk away.

You caught up with Y/N best friend, and settled in at the grandstands to watch the drivers gear up for the sprint.

As the day wore on, you pulled out your phone to kill some time, opening Instagram. Two new follower notifications alerted immediately.

Followed by landonorris and carlossainz55

Ignoring the alerts you continued to scroll through your feed until the cars began lining up for the sprint. Pierre hadn’t made it past Q2 earlier, so you knew he was in for a fight today.

The sprint passed quickly, and while the race didn’t go well for Pierre, it definitely could’ve gone worse. You and Y/N best friend made your way out of the paddock and into the waiting car.

As you returned to the hotel, the two of you settled into your room.

“Where did you disappear to before the sprint?” Y/N Best Friend asked.

“Oh I actually met Carlos and Lando” You replied.

“Carlos and Lando?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes, Carlos and Lando.”

“They’re definitely not hard on the eyes. And their both single. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked.

“I already told you, I don’t think it’s worth it to get with a driver. You know what they’re like”

“Trust me, I really do.” She muttered under her breath.

—— Meanwhile ——

Lance made his way into the dimly lit restaurant. The team had a standing tradition of holding a team dinner the night before a race. As he took his seat next to Fernando, the waiter poured him a glass of water.

“Man, I’m starting to wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I need to find a girl to watch me during the races.” Fernando said, scrolling through his phone.

“What are you on about?” Lance replied.

“Look. I’m just saying, maybe races would be more fun if I knew a pretty girl like that was waiting on me.” He said, showing Lance his phone.

On the screen was a post from an account called f1wagupdates. A series of photos were include, one of which showed a pretty brunette woman, standing between Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. The two men were staring at her, large smiles on their faces. You recognized the women almost instantly, she was the girl who’d run into you at media day.

“I didn’t know either of them was seeing anyone?” Lance asked.

“The caption doesn’t specify. It just says “New WAG alert? Who is the mystery women hanging out with Sainz and Norris? She was spotted with Pierre Gasly’s girlfriend Y/N Best Friend on Thursday. Stay tuned for more updates.”

“I met her on Thursday.” Lance replied.

“You did? Is she as hot in person?” Fernando asked.

“Yeah. I’m not sure if she was with Sainz or Norris. Whoever it was isn’t exactly winning boyfriend of the year though. She was wandering around hospitality looking for the media tent before my interview. What kind of guy ditches his girl like that?”

“Who knows. Maybe they’re not together? If you know what I mean.” Fernando replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah maybe.”

Lance spent the rest of the dinner thinking about what Fernando said earlier. It would be nice to have someone waiting on him in the paddock, cheering him on after every round, walking with him to media, etc. Someone who’s support was unconditional, and didn’t care how he compared to Fernando or the other drivers.

————————————————————————

A/N: Race day is coming next

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #aston martin #alpine #carlos sainz #lando norris

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graciescott27 · 2 months ago

Text

“I Know You Didn’t Mean It, Baby.” Pt. 1 (Blue Lock Boys!)

When they realize they’re still in love with their ex.

horrific amounts of angst, I apologize in advance for this series because it will be getting more detailed.

Feat. Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, and Nagi

Isagi:

He had known since the day you left that he fucked up.

He had done everything perfectly, hadn’t he? Maybe not exactly, but he had definitely tried. He was devoted. Where had he gone wrong?

He spent more time trying to figure that out than actually being sad. If he had done anything bad to you, he wanted to fix it. Even if you didn’t want him back, he could at least make sure his next relationship was successful. That’s all he wanted to know.

Eventually it started to hurt more. By about the one month mark, he was more sad than confused. It didn’t help when you knocked on his door.

“Hey.” you said.

“Uh, hi,” he replied, his expression awkward and overly anxious.

You pushed the cardboard box you were holding into his arms, taking a step away from the door. “I, uh, saw one of your hoodies in my closet and realized I never gave you any of your stuff back.”

Dammit. This was really it, huh? You’re giving him his stuff back. No getting back together, no wedding bells, no honeymoon, no more you. Terrible way to end things off. There was still much he needed to say to you after all of his unnecessary reflecting.

“Right, yeah,” he stared down at the box like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded, taking another step back and slowly closing his door.

He opened it back up as quickly as his reaction time would allow him to, catching you off guard completely. “Question?”

“Yeah…?” You raised a brow.

“Did I ever… mistreat you in any way, or…?”

“I wouldn’t be giving you your stuff back if I didn’t still think you were a good guy.”

And somehow that hurt more than you telling him he ruined your life would have.

Bachira:

Bachira missed you the moment you broke up with him.

He understood why it had happened. You two had your differences and you need more space than he was willing to offer. He didn’t need a graph and a data table to realize he should respect your wishes.

Unsurprisingly, respecting your wishes had proven to be the most difficult thing he had ever forced himself to do. He hadn’t text you yet. He hadn’t tried to talk to you at school. Did he get as much information on you as possible from his friends? Of course. But that was just because he still cared.

And as for your posts, he couldn’t help the fact that they showed up on his feed. Sure, maybe he scrolled through every picture and psychoanalyzed its every detail, but he couldn’t help that they were interesting. It wasn’t his fault your photography skills were sheer perfection. Did he look through the other posts he had missed, too? Yeah, but his finger slipped and he landed on your profile. No big deal. And did you look at all of your stories? Yeah, but he can’t see what shows up next.

He just wanted to keep himself updated, that’s all. He just wanted to make sure you were doing better without him than he was without you. He just wanted to feel like you were still a part of his life.

Chigiri:

Happy fuckin’ birthday to him.

Couldn’t you have waited two weeks or something? Did he really have to wake up four days before his eighteenth birthday with a text from you saying something as dreadful as that? The most heartfelt, thought out thing he had ever seen you write and it wasn’t even about how much you love him.

Nope. Now he’s just gonna be old and boring without a girlfriend.

His emotions changed a lot every time he thought about it. When he was alone in his room thinking about it and looking back at old photos, he cried and refused to delete them. When he had to go into school and tell everyone about how you two had broken up, he was just angry. Nothing more, nothing less. The complications came from when he could actually sit with his thoughts.

It had been five days and he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. Then six days. And then seven. Still no texts from you, but it wasn’t like he really expected anything different. Was he waiting for it? Of course. But he wouldn’t text you first. Never in a million years will he make himself look as desperate for closure as he really is.

And finally, on the eighth day, he gets a text. Sorry for ruining your birthday. Got you a gift before it all happened. Kunigami’s gonna give it to you tomorrow. Hope you at least had a nice eighteenth aside from that <3.

Yeah, you hadn’t just ruined his birthday, you had ruined his adulthood so far. But, alas, the overly complex emotions his felt when he read that were not something he could channel into writing without offending an entire four generations of humans. So, he sent back a simple, Thank you. It was nice, and moved on with his life.

Well, he didn’t move on, necessarily, but he did block your number.

Nagi:

Nagi never really understood many social concepts. Currently the one he was struggling to figure out was how a breakup was supposed to work. He would text you every day. A good morning text, at least one “I love you” text, a goodnight text, and the occasional “I miss you” text. He wasn’t really good with the person space aspect of it all, apparently.

In his mind, you two were still friends. Friends talked. Friends were honest with each other. So, he was texting you and being honest with you. Did it have to go on for months on end when he never got a single message back? Maybe not. He couldn’t help it, though. He just wanted to get you to answer at least once.

You, on the other hand, wanted him to leave you the hell alone. You had tried blocking him and he somehow bypassed it, so now you settled on silencing your phone and muting his messages. You didn’t have read receipts on for him anyone, hell, you had deleted his contact completely. But he didn’t know that.

Nagi was smart. He’d figure it out eventually that you didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Would he figure it out sooner if you just told him that? Probably. You wouldn’t text him again, though. He’d have to put the context clues together himself.

#blue lock #angst #bllk #nagi #Isagi #bachira #drabble #fanfiction #breakup #drama #xreader #chigiri #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #chigiri hyoma #nagi seishiro

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gamma-rae-bursts · 2 years ago

Text

We Found Love Right Where We Are

The 5 times the BAU team had their suspicions and the 1 time you confirmed them.

Pairing: Alex Blake x Fem! Reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

Genre: Fluffy One-Shot

Word Count: 3500+

A/N: Written for @nightmarish-fae ❤️ my best simping bud that always fuels my obsession with CM ladies. I will also forever stand by the soft Alex Blake headcanon.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Both you and Alex took your time to acknowledge the feelings you’ve developed for one another, and it took you even longer to admit them.

When she first joined the team, you thought nothing of it, after all why would you. And it wasn’t until months later that you finally admitted to yourself that you had a hopeless crush on the linguist. It was the way she spoke that gave you butterflies, the way she walked with such grace you’ve never seen before, every little detail about her started to seem absolutely perfect. But you didn’t say anything, you didn’t want to risk being rejected but most importantly, ruin the friendship the two of you have formed over the months.

And neither did she. It wasn’t until after one of the frequent movie nights at Alex’s place, when both of you had one too many glasses of wine to keep your mouths shut and you’ve finally admitted how you truly felt.

And it was perfect ever since, the two of you worked together in such harmony, understood one another like nobody else. At the very beginning you and Alex decided not to tell the team, you didn’t want to make it awkward for anyone in case you didn’t work out in the end. And above all, you didn’t want to hear Morgan’s snarky remarks at every point of your workdays. You were happy to keep it as a little secret, you knew how much Alex has valued her privacy as well as separating her personal life from her work life. You just happened to be a part of both.

5. Can’t keep my eyes off of you

You were sat at your desk, desperately trying to get any work done. It was one of the paperwork days for the BAU and as glad as you were that there were no psychopaths running around and murdering people, you couldn’t help but hope for some excitement to be added to your otherwise boring workday.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, driving your attention away from the file you’ve been working on. You saw Alex’s name across your lock screen and couldn’t help the smile that creeped on your face.

Alex: Darling, if you don’t stop looking at me like that every 5 minutes the team will start getting suspicious.

You must admit, it had become increasingly harder and harder to keep your eyes off of the gorgeous linguist, especially when her desk was right across from yours. Alex was completely aware of that, sometimes purposefully leaving extra buttons of her shirt undone, knowing exactly how crazy it drove you during work.

You started typing your message to reply to the older woman when you saw Morgan heading towards your desk.

“What was that about?” the man questioned with a curious smile, slightly raising his eyebrows.

“Huh? What was what about?” you said raising your eyebrows as well. Being surrounded by a team of exceptionally talented profilers had its downsides, being in situations like this must be on the top of the list.

“Oh, come on y/n!” Derek exclaimed “I saw that smile when you looked at your phone, is there anything you’re not telling us about?! Or more like anyone?”

“What no!” you said and nervously chuckled, the way in which Morgan looked at you made all your hopes of seamlessly getting out of this situation disappear, but you didn’t want to give in just yet, not without talking to Alex first. “It was just a cute cat picture my friend sent to me” you said as you stood up from your desk grabbing your mug and started walking towards the coffee machine.

“Mhm, friend…” he added with a chuckle and a shake of his head as you left the bullpen.

4. Clothes

“You look better in my clothes than I do” Alex whispered to you as the two of you exited the elevator and started heading to the bullpen.

“You better hope nobody notices, or it’ll be over for us” you whispered back, slight smirk on your face. You were, in fact, wearing an outfit that majorly consisted of Alex’s clothes, the only item that belonged to you were the shoes, which you have also worn on the previous day. The two of you have gone out on a little date the night before, which didn’t happen frequently considering the unpredictable nature of your jobs. The date has, unsurprisingly, ended in Alex’s apartment where you’ve stayed the night.

“Morning Everyone!” you hear Penelope’s high pitched voice roam through the bullpen as you enter.” Don’t get all too comfortable, we have a case!”

As everyone headed into the conference room Penelope stopped you before you managed to take a single step, with a big smile on her face.

“I know that shirt from somewhere” the eccentric blonde said, giving you that look of ‘I know what you’re up to’.

“What do you mean?” you replied, trying to keep the expression on your face unchanged, slightly confused as if you had indeed no idea what she was talking about. You put in your best efforts trying to mask the inner panic this interaction has caused.

“I’ve seen Blake wearing it last week, and I know it was this exact shirt because it took me by surprise, it’s not something she would usually wear!” Penelope said, looking straight into your eyes, waiting for you to give in.

“Oh, we might have the same shirts then” you said, trying to mask the anxiety that almost caused you to shake “I guess it’s not as original as I thought it was when I bought it” you finished the sentence with a gentle smile, really hoping Penelope bought the horrible lie you came up with.

The two of you then headed to the conference room together and all you could hope was that Penelope could get the hint and not tell every other agent about the interaction you’ve just had.

3. Date

You didn’t get the chance to go out together often, either because you were away on cases, loaded with paperwork or so exhausted from the workload that all you wanted was to stay in your house. This week was different. There weren’t any cases that would cause you to leave the city and each team member was fully caught up on the paperwork. This was a perfect time for you and Alex to finally spend some quality time together. You knew Penelope planned a girls’ night for the evening, but both of you made up some excuses as to why you couldn’t come.

You told Alex you would pick her up at 5pm. You didn’t plan anything too fancy; you were completely aware this was not Alex’s scene and even less yours. Instead, you decided to take your girlfriend to one of the biggest bookstores in the area. After all she was a linguist with borderline unhealthy obsession about books. But you didn’t mind it at all. You loved how consumed by reading she got every evening; with how much passion she spoke about her favourite authors and how much she knew about every single one. This woman was truly amazing, and you adored every single aspect that made her, her.

***

“So where are we going?” Alex questioned with a soft smile as she got into your car.

“My word still stands, you’ll find out when we get there” you answered with a smile and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, trying to transfer as little of your lip gloss onto her skin as possible.

The drive was peaceful filled with silence between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Alex was in charge of the music so the whole way there you listened to Beethoven’s symphony no. 5. Her taste in music, although being the complete opposite of yours, was one of the things you adored about the woman.

When you got to the parking lot right across the bookstore you saw the way Alex’s eyes lit up. And this was all you could ever ask for.

“Come on, you can tell me all about your favourite books and authors and I’m paying for all the books you want!” you said with a huge smile that matched the one spread across Alex’s face “And after we go through the whole 3 floors, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“You’re too sweet to me y/n/n” the brunette said softly, after which she proceeded to leave a gentle yet passionate kiss on your lips “I’m so excited for this!”

***

As you expected the bookstore was a huge hit. You and Alex spent a little over 3 hours wandering between the bookshelves, stopping at every single one to see what it had to offer. Alex told you a little about every book she picked up, about its origin, the author and how much of a historical impact it had. And you enjoyed every last second of it. There was something so special about seeing her fully in her element, something that made you truly happy.

You left the bookstore with a few books to add to Alex’s ever-growing collection. When you got to the restaurant you picked out, the conversation about books and linguistics continued. That was until you noticed JJ and Penelope heading into the same restaurant you and Alex were sitting in. And it was too late, before you could make up any sort of an escape plan the two women noticed you and your girlfriend. The good thing was that you managed to let go of each other’s hands before either of them noticed.

“Oh my God! y/n! Alex! What are you two doing here!” JJ exclaimed. You could tell from the way she was speaking that she was as least tipsy, borderline drunk. You could only hope that Penelope matched her level.

“You said you were busy and couldn’t make it tonight!” Penelope said with a pout “What the hell is this then!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, me and y/n bumped into each other after we’ve finished running the errands and decided to grab some dinner together” Alex answered. You really hoped the two agents were too drunk to properly put the two and two together.

“Ah, I see! Well, it’s not too late to join the girls’ night now ladies!” Penelope exclaimed “Come on we're going to the club!”

This one was too close.

2. Hickey

“It’s nothing, I burned myself with a curling iron a few days ago” Alex said with a sigh, trying to convince Morgan, silently hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. Unfortunately for the two of you he didn’t buy the crappy excuse Alex came up with.

“I don’t know Blake, it looks like a hickey to me” you overheard Morgan say with a grin plastered across his face.

The night before was eventful to say the least. You and Alex decided to stay at her apartment, cook dinner together and watch your favourite TV show. It goes without saying that the latter part did not go to plan, which neither of you complained about. You didn’t have time to yourselves for the past three weeks, as there was a case after another during which you were paired in a room with JJ and Alex with Reid. At the time neither of you wanted to risk anybody suspecting something, or even worse, finding out about your relationship. After one too many glasses of wine you could not keep your hands to yourself, ending the evening in Alex’s bedroom. The longing for her touch had become too much at that point. When you woke up in the morning you could see the results of the previous night’s activities on Alex’s neck.

“Looks like our Dr Blake is getting some guys!” Morgan exclaimed grabbing the attention of the team. Garcia and JJ, of course, joined him at the linguist’s desk. You decided to join the group to not seem any more suspicious than you already were, Spencer joined shortly after you. At this points the only team members not gathered around the desk were Rossi and Hotch, both of which were in their offices. You didn’t doubt they too would join the interrogation if they were made aware of it.

“I need to know everything now!” Garcia said staring right into the older woman’s’ soul.

“There is nothing to know Penelope, as I said I burned myself with a curling iron” Alex tried to convince the agents again.

“You know statistically speaking people who have sex on a regular basis are happier than people who don’t. This is due to the release of the hormone oxytocin during orgasms.” Spencer added causing Alex to roll her eyes.

“Come on everyone” you all turned your heads to Hotch, who was standing right outside his office “We have a case.”

Both you and Alex released a sigh of a relief, thanking any higher power for the perfect timing of Hotch’s announcement.

1. Slip up

During the lunch break you, Alex and Spencer decided to head out to a new café that was opened just a little over a week prior. It was conveniently located right outside your workplace.

As each of you ordered your meals, you enjoyed listening to the two of them discussing linguistic concepts you had absolutely no idea about. Over the months you’ve learned a few things from Alex, but you were far from the point where you would be able to join in on their conversation with any of your own input.

The two of them were now discussing human capability of producing sounds, which just happened to be the topic of the conversation you’ve had with the linguist the day before. You’ve always been interested in language, it just so happened that your life led you in the completely opposite direction resulting in you having a wider scientific knowledge rather than anything to do with your lover’s field. Nevertheless, the desire to contribute to the conversation between Alex and Spencer was greater than the embarrassment caused by your limited knowledge on the subject, so you decided to join in.

“And by meaningful sounds you mean, taking English as an example, the letters P and B produce sounds that allow us to form different words, like pat and bat or pet and bet, right?” you said as you looked up at the pair of agents sitting across from you.

“Yes, I would think so” Spencer said, with a confused but impressed look on his face “How did you know that y/n?”

“Well, just like last night Alex said…” you stopped yourself before you could finish the sentence, realising the huge slip up that fell from your lips. Alex looked back at you with eyes wide open.

“Last night?” the boy genius questioned with a raised eyebrow “What were you two doing together last night?”

“y/n stopped at mine last night to pick up some books I’ve talked about before, she said she would like to give them a go” Alex quickly answered Spencer’s question, causing you to silently sigh in relief.

0. Karaoke Night

Late night conversations with Alex weren’t uncommon, the job took its toll on both of you causing occasional insomnia. Other than that, you wanted to spend as much time with your girlfriend as possible, even if it meant sacrificing your sleep for it. You would lie if you said you didn’t enjoy the chats the two of you had, talking about the meaning of life, where your life was heading or the existence itself. You loved hearing Alex elaborate on all of the above, carefully listening to all her thoughts, everything and anything she had to say.

This night was no different, you were snuggled together in your bed, your head resting on the older woman’s chest and her hand making small circles on your back.

“I think I’m ready to tell the team” Alex whispered and placed a gentle kiss on your head. “I want them all to know how happy you make me.”

You raised your head to look her in the eyes “Are you sure honey?” you whispered back.

“Yes, I want everyone to know that you’re my girlfriend, I want to finally be able to hold your hand on our way to the office and show up in one car without being scared someone will suspect something” she said sternly, yet gently and smiled at you.

You pressed a soft kiss on her lips, but you couldn’t help the smile that creeped onto your face as you did so. “I’d like that too”.

***

Penelope’s ‘Team Bonding Policy’ included an obligatory monthly night out for the whole of the BAU. This month’s activity took place at the bar frequented by all of you, everyone was enthusiastic about this as it wasn’t too far out of anyone’s comfort zone. What Penelope forgot to mention was that this was a Karaoke Night.

This didn’t stop the team from having fun, Morgan flirting with all the girls by the bar, Penelope and JJ dancing together like there was no tomorrow. Rossi and Hotch were sat together discussing the Italian man’s all previous marriages. Even Spencer found himself someone to impress with his magic tricks. You and Alex were still sat at the table talking about everything and anything. At that point of the evening everyone had had a few drinks, you included. You were by no means drunk, tipsy at most. That’s when you decided that this will be the night the team officially finds out about your relationship.

You leaned closer to your girlfriend, cupping her face in your hands when you pressed a passionate kiss to her lips. Alex sighed in surprise. “I’m going to sing the cheesiest love song for you” you said and quickly ran away from the woman before she could react in any way, leaving her speechless.

A few minutes later you appeared on the stage, holding the microphone. It would be an understatement to say that the agents were surprised to see you there.

The music of ‘Thinking out Loud’ by Ed Sheeran began to play and you started to sing, looking right into the eyes of the love of your life.

When your legs don't work like they used to before And I can't sweep you off of your feet Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70 And baby my heart could still fall as hard at 23 And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways Maybe just the touch of a hand Oh me I fall in love with you every single day And I just wanna tell you I am

A soft smile spread across Alex’s face as she looked at you from where the two of you were sitting before. You kept the eye contact as you sang every word, hitting every note of the song perfectly.

So honey now Take me into your loving arms Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars Place your head on my beating heart I'm thinking out loud Maybe we found love right where we are

When my hair's all but gone and my memory fades And the crowds don't remember my name When my hands don't play the strings the same way, mm I know you will still love me the same

'Cause honey your soul can never grow old, it's evergreen Baby your smile's forever in my mind and memory

This was the point where all the agents noticed the non-stopping eye contact you and Alex have shared, the soft smiles you sent her between lines of the song. You didn’t care about the confused looks each and every one of them have sent you, Alex was all that mattered in that moment. The brunette slowly stood up from the table and started heading towards the stage, where you continued singing for her.

But baby now Take me into your loving arms Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars Place your head on my beating heart I'm thinking out loud That maybe we found love right where we are, oh

So baby now Take me into your loving arms Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars Oh darling, place your head on my beating heart I'm thinking out loud That maybe we found love right where we are

What came as an even bigger surprise to everyone was the moment Alex joined you on the stage. Although she didn’t sing with you, you were perfectly content with the turn of events. You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled and older woman closer to you.

Oh baby, we found love right where we are And we found love right where we are

She didn’t hesitate to kiss you in front of everyone and you immediately reciprocated the gesture. The team started cheering from where they were sat, and you heard Penelope and Morgan yell “I knew it” at the exact same time making both of you giggle into the kiss.

#criminal minds #alex blake #alex blake x reader #fluff #reader insert #bau team #y/n fics #one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff

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qlala · 1 year ago

Note

Long casefic mentioned: screaming crying tearing at the walls of my enclosure

listen I know I've been sooo lock and key about this one for years because I wanted it to be perfect before I posted any WIP snippets, BUT... 2024 we are all learning to say "death to perfectionism," so december 2023, I am also saying "After all, why not? Why shouldn't I share a little snippet?"

setting notes for the below: a CCPD precinct, a few months after Flashpoint. (If you never got there in the show, don't worry about it; Len doesn't know what it means, either.) Barry and Len haven't seen each other since Len tipped him off to the Trickster ambush the previous Christmas, and as far as Barry knows, Len has been off with the Legends ever since. (He hasn't been.)

It was fascinating to watch Snart pull the Captain Cold bravado around his shoulders, even with his hands cuffed to an interrogation room table and no parka in sight. He rolled his shoulders back, slouched down in the chair—as far as the cuffs allowed—and crossed one ankle over his opposite knee. Then he rolled his bored gaze insolently in Barry’s direction and raised an eyebrow.

“Seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

Barry realized his mistake, a moment too late; as far as the CCPD was concerned, he and Snart had never met.

“Right,” Barry said. He wasn’t an officer, so protocol was fuzzy on whether he was supposed to introduce himself to an... inmate? Had Snart gotten himself arrested again?

Snart’s smirk deepened at his obvious floundering, so Barry looked to Joe instead.

Joe gave him the same resigned look he’d just received from Singh, but unlike Singh, Joe took pity on him. He flipped shut the file he’d been reading, then slid it across the table toward him.

It came to a stop within inches of Snart’s fingertips, and Barry saw him test the cuffs covertly as if considering intercepting it. Barry picked it up before he could try, throwing him a knowing glare.

Snart didn’t bother looking chastened.

The file, Barry noticed, was thicker than most that passed through the CCPD. When he flipped it open and saw the FBI seal emblazoned on the front page, he understood why.

A paper clip held a picture of Snart to the next page: a recent shot, judging from the hints of gray in his hair. Barry started to turn the page, then became aware of the twin looks of apprehension he was receiving from Joe and Snart. When he glanced questioningly at Snart, he looked away, feigning interest in his handcuffs. Barry looked to Joe instead, and felt a prickle of uneasiness when Joe only shook his head, knuckles pale where they were wrapped around the back of the empty metal chair across from Snart.

Barry flipped forward in the file. The next few pages were background on Snart, with no major changes from what Barry had expected. He was familiar with Snart’s rap sheet already, and the psychological profile they’d drawn up on him was about as accurate as a tabloid horoscope. He did feel an old pang of guilt when he passed a memo noting the unexplained disappearance of Snart’s electronic files, but it was getting easier to brush that feeling aside every time.

Unsurprisingly, the medical records from Iron Heights were sparse. Several pages were entirely blank, but there was a scribbled correction stapled to the bottom of one, noting, of all things, a severe food allergy to pineapples. Barry couldn’t help but grin at that; for such a mundane detail, it had apparently only recently been wrested from Snart, and with great effort.

He skimmed the rest of Snart's section. It was obvious that—tropical fruit allergies aside—the FBI knew less about Snart than he did. He pulled up short, however, when he turned to the next section and found another photograph clipped into the file.

“What is this?” He looked up at the answering silence, but Snart avoided his gaze, and Joe crossed his arms with obvious discomfort. “Joe?”

“Bartholomew," Snart interrupted, before Joe could answer, and Barry looked over at him in surprise. Snart gave him a slow, knowing smirk. “It is Bartholomew, isn’t it?”

No one had ever said his full name with such obvious relish, and Barry seriously considered throwing back a Lenny just to see how he liked it. But he caught himself in time, and he bit back an exasperated sigh.

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

It wasn’t very convincing, and a flicker of annoyance crossed Snart’s expression, obviously displeased that he wasn’t playing along with proper enthusiasm. Then the smirk was back, and Snart leaned back in his seat with an air of indifference.

Barry watched him suspiciously; he looked far too in control of the whole situation despite being the one handcuffed to the table.

“Feds didn’t tell me much,” Snart said. “But this…” He dragged his gaze down and back up Barry’s body in a long, appraising look. “This, I can work with.”

“Joe,” Barry repeated, pointedly ignoring Snart. There was a slightly hysterical edge to his voice, though, and Joe sighed and unfolded his arms.

“What do you know about the Morellos?”

Barry blinked; whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. The name was vaguely familiar, and it took him a few moments to put together where he’d heard it before.

“They’re an East Coast crime family,” he said, slowly. He looked to Joe for confirmation, and Joe nodded. “They practically ran Metropolis during Prohibition. Not much from them, since? I think they’re still active, but… they’ve mostly been pushed out by other Families.”

“Someone’s been listening to his podcasts.”

Joe didn’t so much as glance at Snart for the interruption, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Until recently, that was the case,” he said. “Members of the other Families have started dropping like flies, and the FBI thinks the Morellos are moving to take back power.”

Barry flipped through the file until he found a brief on the topic, and nodded for Joe to continue.

“Last year, they worked out some kind of alliance with the Russian mob,” Joe said, “and now they control ninety percent of the heroin passing through Metropolis. The FBI couldn’t figure out what they were trading for that kind of power, until they realized the drug deals were lining up with major art thefts in the city.”

Barry glanced up from the brief, thrown by the apparent non-sequitur. “What would the Russians want with stolen art?”

Snart snorted, and Barry turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Universal value,” Snart explained. He swept his palms in a broad gesture, though it was restricted by the limited reach of the handcuffs. “Markets crash, currencies fall. A Picasso stays a Picasso. And canvas is easier to smuggle than gold.”

There was a certain logic to it, though Barry suspected it was a lot more complicated than Snart was making it sound.

“And, what, you’re involved with this?” he asked.

Snart actually looked insulted. “Drug trade’s a nasty business,” he said, a curl to his lip despite his light, almost bored tone. “Messy work. Lotta bribes, lotta bodies. Hard to make a profit when the product keeps killing your buyers. Not my scene.”

“What’s this got to do with you, then?” Barry asked. He pulled the second picture out of the folder and held it up. “Or me?”

It was a copy of the photo from his CCPD identification. It was a few years old—his hair was longer on top, his shoulders a little narrower—and Snart’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Cute,” he said.

Barry rolled his eyes and slid the picture back into the file.

“Snart’s managed to get it into the FBI’s head that he’d make a good criminal informant. Apparently, he’s an expert in modern abstract expressionism,” Joe said, the last part clearly a quote. When Barry turned to him, surprised, Joe only shrugged. “I know. Surprised me too.”

“Learn all kinds of interesting things in my line of work,” Snart said, picking idly at the edge of his handcuffs. “Ab Ex dominates the market, has for decades. Post-War’s always in style. It's easy. People get it.”

His fingers didn’t curl around air quotes; they didn’t have to, his voice going vapid in a way that almost, almost pulled a smile out of Barry. Leonard Snart, closet art snob.

“Unspeakable horrors,” Snart continued, with a lazy, ‘and so on’ twirl of his fingers. “Expressible only through feelings over form…” He circled the gesture back the other way, with momentarily distracting, long-fingered grace. “Yada-yada-yada. Modern art fan, Bartholomew?”

He was having too much fun with the name, and Barry gave him a flat look for it.

“Barry.”

Snart’s lashes dipped on another once-over before he met his gaze again, eyes sharp and amused. “Pleasure.”

Barry didn’t need the way Snart leaned hard on the word, drawing it out even as his lips curled up at one corner, to tell him he’d walked right into that trap.

Snart lifted one hand and twisted the cuffs to extend the other out toward him, as close to offering a handshake as he could manage. “Leonard Snart. At your service.”

Doubt it, Barry thought. But he bit back the comment and crossed his arms instead, folding his hands pointedly against his sides, then said, “Yeah. I know.”

Snart’s eyebrows lifted at the slight, and he lifted both hands in surrender. “Ouch.” He dropped his lashes on a private smirk just to flick his gaze back up again, not finished with the taunt yet. “Thought we might have something in common. Civilian to civilian.”

Even the decades-old camera in the corner could probably pick up the amount of irony dripping from Snart’s voice, but Barry’s warning glance didn’t deter him in the least.

“What with you being an employee of the CCPD,” Snart said, tilting one hand in Barry’s direction before curling his fingers back to indicate himself, “and me being an employee of the FBI…”

“Criminal informant's not an employee.”

Barry didn’t jump at Joe’s correction, but it was a near thing. What was it about Snart that made it so easy to forget that there were other people in a room?

“Tomato, tomato,” Snart drawled. He didn’t so much as glance in Joe’s direction, attention still trained on Barry. “Feds want me to infiltrate the local underground in Metropolis, see if I can't rustle up a few Morello 'associates.’” That time, he did curl his fingers in quotation marks around the word. “I pass along the names, the feds arrest them. Everybody goes home happy.” He paused, then added, “Morellos excluded.”

Barry was tempted to ask Snart how long he’d been waiting for him to ask, but he had more pressing questions. “And you agreed to help, what, out of the goodness of your heart?”

Snart leaned across the table towards him with a dangerous smile, handcuffs scraping pointedly over the metal surface.

“Let’s agree to disagree about the goodness of my heart,” he said, and any lingering concerns that Barry might've had about Snart might not know exactly who he was disappeared at the private gleam in his eyes over those words. “But no. Feds had a little chat with the District Attorney here in Central City. Detective West knows the details, but—“ He drummed his fingers on the table, then ticked his head toward one shoulder in a shrug. “Like I said. Everybody goes home happy.”

When Barry looked at Joe for clarification, Joe shifted his hands to his hips before pulling his glare away from Snart, one hand settling pointedly beside his gun.

“The Mayor of Metropolis reached out to our governor," Joe said. "They’re talking pardons.”

“Yahtzee.”

There were a hundred follow-up questions Barry could’ve asked. But Snart was clearly still enjoying himself too, and Barry wasn't in the mood for more roundabout non-answers. So Barry turned his back on Snart and faced Joe head-on.

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “What's my role here?”

“For the record," Joe said, slowly, almost placatingly, "I told Singh this was a terrible idea.”

Joe hedging was never a good sign, and for the first time, Barry felt the stirrings of real apprehension in his chest.

“You told Singh what was a terrible idea?”

#:) ehehe #coldflash #my fics #writing this has really been like #me @ the fic: [mrs bennet voice] have you no compassion for my poor nerves?#the fic @ me: [mr bennet voice] my dear i have the highest respect for your nerves. they have been my constant companions these many years #also thank u so much for asking about this! i am posting this snippet for You specifically :)

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callsign-jinx · 2 years ago

Text

A Rebel in my Soul [2023 ver.] | Ch.1 New friends and old enemies

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!pilot!reader (Call sign: Rebel)

Word count: 3k-4k

Warnings: mention of Goose and Carole’s death, mentions of death, Jake being an asshole, mentions of drinks, Fanboy being a literal sunshine, you know the deal.

A/N: WELL WELL WELL. do i have self control? no. am i uploading this bc it is fun to sit and read my first series and think ‘i should’ve done this differently’ and changing loooots of things? yes. it is easier than just write a new fic? yep. And i’m loving every second of it. There’s gonna be major changes, i’ll be showing more rebel x dagger squad interactions and maybe this version will have more chapters than the original one.

A/N 2: reuploading this bc i realized MORE MISTAKES ugh

Tagging the usual people, if you want to be added, comment down below!

Masterlist

"Rebel shouldn’t be here."

Those were Maverick’s first words when he saw your face among the profile pictures of the aviators assigned to the mission. He was well aware that the odds of survival on this one were slim—that’s why they’d called him in. He was the expert at defying the impossible.

And that was just one of the many things you both shared.

“Any particular reason why, Captain?” Cyclone asked, already regretting he’d followed Iceman’s advice to bring Mitchell in.

“You know who she is.”

Cyclone tapped a few times on his tablet, making your picture fill the screen. “That’s exactly why she’s here, Mitchell. She’s every bit as good as you, but without the tendency to break the rules.”

“You know where her call sign comes from, right?” Maverick asked, unsure if Cyclone truly understood the meaning of ‘Rebel.’

“It’s not about you, Maverick. She never told anyone about her father,” Cyclone explained wearily, clearly wanting to wrap up the meeting. “Look, you don’t have a choice. You either take this mission, or you kiss your military career goodbye.”

How was he supposed to turn down the mission? Not just because of his daughter, but because Goose’s son, Rooster, was on the team. He couldn’t bear the thought of risking the life of his best friend’s son. He had promised Carole before she passed away that he would look after her kid. He’d tried to honor that promise, but all it had gotten him was the loss of the only Bradshaw left in his life—and his own daughter.

Maverick knew he was in no position to request that Rooster and Rebel be pulled from the mission, but he couldn’t help but wish he could. No. That was a terrible idea. He’d interfered in their careers too many times already. If he ever wanted any chance at a relationship with either of them again, he couldn’t make that mistake twice. He’d learned that the hard way.

Rebel was just a few years younger than Rooster, and, as if he hadn’t learned from his past mistakes, Maverick had tried to pull his daughter’s papers. He couldn’t bear the thought of her becoming a pilot, risking her life every time she took to the skies. When she found out, Rebel swore she would never speak to him again.

Maverick knew he had no choice but to take on this mission as an instructor, to train the two of you—his kids—and pray that nothing went wrong when the time came.

This would be Maverick’s toughest mission yet.

It had been a while since you’d been to the Hard Deck—at least two years. From what you’d heard, Penny was now the owner of the bar. She was an old friend of yours, someone who had once been in a complicated relationship with your father. As a little girl, you’d dreamed that she might one day become your mom. Little Rebel had been a very innocent girl back then.

Scanning the bar for familiar faces, you spot Coyote and Hangman playing pool. Their presence here could only mean two things: one, the mission is serious, and they need the best aviators available. Hangman was the only aviator you knew with a confirmed air-to-air kill. And two, Rooster would be here too.

"Rebel?" A surprised voice calls from behind you.

You recognize that voice instantly, and when you turn around to see the smile on Nat’s face, you can’t help but grin. "Phoenix? Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! Are you here for the super-secret mission?" you say, stepping forward to hug her.

“You thought they could call the best of the best and leave me out of it?” Phoenix asks with a smirk.

“Fair point,” you agree, pulling her in for another hug. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” She steps back, gesturing to the two tall men standing behind her. “Hey, let me introduce you to my friends. Rebel, these are Reuben Fitch, call sign Payback, and Mickey Garcia, call sign Fanboy.”

“Fanboy?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Quite the call sign.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you’ve got a bit of taste,” Fanboy shrugs with a grin.

“Hmm... which fandom?” you tease.

“Trek,” he says proudly, his smile widening.

“Trek is the best,” you say, nodding in approval.

“Look at that, my new best friend,” Fanboy declares, throwing an arm around your shoulder and shooting a playful look at Payback. “See? Someone with taste.”

“You’re not getting rid of him now,” Payback warns, half-joking, half-serious.

“What would I want to get rid of him for?” you laugh, glancing between the two men. "Seems like he’s got the best taste."

Mickey hugs you closer, almost choking you in his embrace. “Oh my, I found my soulmate.”

Phoenix scans the bar until her eyes land on Hangman. She sighs, rolling her eyes. “They really need to be desperate to bring an asshole like him.”

“Nat, he’s an asshole, but he’s a talented asshole. He’s really good.”

“Please, don’t talk like him,” Phoenix groans, pretending to gag. “I’ll throw up.”

Fanboy and Payback burst into laughter at Phoenix’s antics. “Come on,” she adds with a mischievous grin. “Let’s mess with the cowboy a little.”

You and your new friends approach the pool table, and Hangman looks up as you get closer. His eyes flicker with recognition before a smug grin spreads across his face. “What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix! Oh, well, well, good little Rebel is also in the building! And here I thought we were special, Coyote.”

“Special like you? No thanks, I’ll pass,” you retort with a smirk, earning another round of laughter from Fanboy and Payback.

“Fellas, this here’s Bag Man,” Phoenix says, standing right in front of the blonde aviator.

“Hangman,” he corrects her, his usual cocky smirk in place.

“Whatever,” Phoenix shrugs. “You’re looking at the only Naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

You glance at her, wondering why she’s praising him now. Wasn’t she just planning to mess with him?

“Stop,” Hangman responds, clearly basking in his own inflated ego.

“Mind you,” Phoenix continues, her tone suddenly playful, “the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.”

There it is. Phoenix is roasting the hell out of Hangman, and you can’t help but grin. That’s your girl.

“Cold War,” Coyote adds, as if that makes Hangman look any cooler. There’s something about their friendship that never quite made sense to you. Coyote is a better person than Hangman could ever hope to be—so why the hell is he always attached to an idiot like him?

“Different wars, same century,” Payback chimes in with a smirk.

“Not this one,” Fanboy adds, throwing in his own punch. You’re starting to really like these two.

The look on Hangman’s face is priceless—clearly a mix of irritation and confusion. He doesn’t like being the butt of the joke, and you can’t say you blame him. But honestly, Hangman had a way of getting under your skin every time you were in the same room with him. Phoenix, though, was always ready to mop the floor with him—because “nobody messes with my girl.” She’d always been like the sister you never had.

And by the looks of it, Payback and Fanboy were quickly warming up to their new role in Hangman’s personal roasting squad. You couldn’t wait to see how far this would go.

“Who are your friends?” Coyote asks, clearly trying to shift the focus away from Hangman, always the loyal defender.

“Payback,” the pilot answers with a grin.

“Fanboy,” adds Mickey with a wink.

You turn toward Coyote and offer a casual, “Hey, Coyote.”

“Hey,” he replies, his tone easygoing.

You nod toward the blond-haired man who’s been quietly eating in the corner. “Who’s he?”

“Who’s who?” Coyote asks, genuinely puzzled.

Your little group turns to look at the man, who seems to have just noticed the sudden attention. He raises his head, blinking in surprise. And then you realize—he’s cute.

“When did you get in?” Coyote asks, finally noticing him for the first time.

“Oh, I’ve been here the whole time,” the man answers with a warm smile. His voice is calm, friendly—a stark contrast to the usual cocky arrogance of most pilots.

You study him for a moment. He can’t be a pilot. Pilots are cocky little shitheads. This guy, though, he’s the kind of guy who would bring your daughter home an hour before curfew just to earn her father’s approval. There’s something endearing about him, and you can’t quite place why.

“The man’s a stealth pilot,” Hangman jokes, always eager to be the center of attention.

“Literally,” you add, deadpan.

“WSO, actually,” the blond man clarifies. A Wizzo, of course. He definitely has that vibe.

“With no sense of humor,” Hangman quips, tossing the pool stick to Phoenix before walking off.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” you say, heading toward the bar. Of course, Hangman seems to have had the same idea.

"Penny, my dear. I’ll have four more on the old timer," you hear him call out, giving the poor bartender a look that probably signals trouble. Your stomach flips when you spot the familiar face across the bar.

Why is he here? What the hell is he doing at Top Gun? Is he coming back as an instructor? You can already feel the knot in your stomach tightening. It didn’t work the first time he tried to return. Maverick didn’t have the freedom he needed back then, and he certainly couldn’t play by the rules in the way he always did.

Penny catches your gaze, her lips forming a small, sympathetic pout. She knows exactly what this situation is doing to you. You don’t need to say a word for her to understand that seeing your father again—especially here—stirs up more than just old memories.

You don’t make eye contact with your father. Instead, you focus on Hangman, trying to ignore the tension in your chest. "Need help with those?"

He glances over at you with a raised eyebrow. "What, you’re afraid I’ll let them fall?"

"No, I was just offering," you mutter, mentally kicking yourself for even trying to be nice to him. Why did you do that?

Hangman looks at you like you’ve suddenly sprouted a second head.

"What?" you grumble, genuinely confused by the look on his face.

"...You okay?"

Wait. Is he joking? Is he actually concerned, or is he just messing with you again? You hesitate for a moment, then decide to just go along with it. "Yes? Why?"

"Because you’re being nice to me," he says flatly, as if it’s the most bizarre thing he’s ever encountered.

You blink, unsure how to respond. Being nice to him isn’t exactly part of the plan, but it’s not like you had any intention of picking a fight, either.

Before you can answer Hangman, you see Rooster walk through the doors of the Hard Deck. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and aviator sunglasses, looking tanner than usual. The moment his eyes land on Maverick, you know hell is going to break loose. You have to avoid that confrontation. At least for now.

"Roos!" you call, sprinting toward him.

He grins wide and catches you in his arms, pulling you into a tight hug. "Look at that, my favorite Rebel! Did they call you too? You didn’t tell me."

“Well, it is a secret mission,” you tease, swiping his aviators and putting them on. “How was I supposed to say anything?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, setting you down gently. “The others are here too?”

“Yeah,” you nod, keeping the mood light. “Even your best friend.”

Rooster raises an eyebrow, and you can already feel the tension in the air as he realizes who you're talking about. But he doesn’t say anything—yet.

“Phoenix?” Rooster asks, a grin spreading across his face.

“Bag Man,” you reply, rolling your eyes as he pats your shoulder affectionately. “Let’s go with the rest,” you say, starting to move away from the entrance. You can feel your father’s eyes on you, but you ignore the weight of his stare, focusing on keeping things light.

As you and Rooster walk further into the bar, Phoenix calls out, “Bradshaw, is that you?”

You both stop and turn toward her as she walks up. “This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you,” Rooster replies, the grin still on his face.

Phoenix leans against the pool table, lining up her shot. But then, just as she pulls back the cue stick, she deliberately swings it the wrong way and smacks Rooster right in the gut. He bends over in pain, and you can’t help but burst out laughing. It’s like old times.

Rooster looks up at Phoenix, a smile breaking through his pain. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” she replies with a wink, clearly enjoying the moment just as much as you are.

Hangman strolls back from the bar, beers in hand, his eyes locking directly with Rooster. He hands one to everyone at the table—except you and Bob. Fantastic. Now you’ll have to make another trip to the bar.

“Bradshaw. As I live and breathe,” Hangman says, grinning like the cocky bastard he is, as he swipes the pool stick from Bob’s hands.

“Hangman, you look... good,” Rooster says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, I am good, Rooster,” Hangman replies, casually sinking a ball with perfect precision. “In fact, I’m too good to be true.”

The rest of the aviators exchange exasperated looks, shaking their heads in disbelief. Fanboy glances at you, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ You just shake your head in response. Yeah, you stopped being surprised by Hangman’s ego long ago.

“So, does anybody know what this special detachment is all about?” Payback asks, clearly trying to get some real answers.

Before anyone can respond, Hangman cuts in, his voice dripping with self-importance. “No, mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me.”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to tell him off. Sometimes, you really wish someone would just knock some sense into him—preferably in the face.

“As if he can care about anything else that’s not himself,” you whisper to Rooster, your eyes flicking over to Hangman.

Rooster smirks, shaking his head. “What I’m curious about is who will be the team leader. And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

You laugh, snatching Rooster’s aviators off your face and slipping them on your hair. “Oh, I can already hear the news: ‘Team leader Hangman leaves everyone behind.’”

You lock eyes with Hangman, the challenge in your gaze clear as day. It's almost like a battle of wills, and you're not backing down. You can almost feel his ego swelling in response, but you don't care.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave,” you shoot back, your tone sharp, just the way you like it.

“Whoo!” Fanboy exclaims from behind you, taking a long sip of his beer. You hear Payback snicker as well. The tension in the air is thick, but the laughter around you makes it feel a little lighter.

Hangman narrows his eyes, clearly not expecting you to come back at him like that. He’s good at his job, sure, but you don’t need to make him feel like the center of the universe.

Hangman approaches with that trademark smirk of his, mischief flickering in his eyes like he knows something you don’t. It’s the same look he gets when he’s about to stir the pot, always looking for an opening to get under someone’s skin.

You can feel the tension in the air—he’s probably about to make some snide remark, something cocky or mocking. He’s good at that. Too good. And the worst part? He somehow always gets away with it. But not today. You’ve had enough of his games for one night.

"Well, anyone who follows you two is either gonna run out of fuel," Hangman says, his eyes locking on Rooster. "Or get themselves kicked off the team." He shifts his gaze to you, finishing with that same smug look you’ve come to expect.

You can feel your jaw tighten, but you don't let it show. It’s true—you’re not one for following rules to the letter. Rebel was your call sign for a reason. Your father used to say, “Sometimes, you need to stop thinking and just start doing.�� You took that to heart, living it every day since. It’s what got you into trouble more than once, but it’s also what made you the fastest in your class.

Even Hangman had trouble keeping up with you when you were in the air. That’s something he doesn’t like to admit, but you know it’s true. You were the one to break the rules and come out on top.

Iceman told you once that you were just like your father.

You really hope it’s not true.

“But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment that never comes. At least she has more balls than you.”

The room falls into a tense silence, Hangman’s words lingering in the air like a bad taste. Some of the aviators avert their gaze, staring down at the floor as if it might swallow them up. What the hell is his problem? You take a step forward, your jaw set, and lift your chin, locking eyes with him.

“Well, at least we’ve got people who actually want to follow us. Have you looked around? No one here would trust you as team leader,” you say, your tone cool and unflinching. Not even Coyote tries to back him up—he knows you’re spot on.

If looks could kill, you would probably be dead by now. He leans over you, his face so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. Green eyes piercing your own. If this guy were a bit less of an asshole, you wouldn’t mind having something with him. But hell would freeze over before you’d willingly spend more than ten minutes in his company.

"I would never follow someone like you," he says again, his tone as condescending as ever.

"Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion," you reply, stepping past him and swiping the pool cue out of his hands before handing it off to Bob.

Hangman just shrugs and makes his way over to Coyote. Phoenix moves in closer to you and Rooster, her eyes narrowing as she watches Hangman.

"Well, he hasn't changed," she mutters with a smirk.

“Nope,” Rooster adds, agreeing with Nat. “Sure hasn’t.”

“You know, everyone’s entitled to act like an asshole once in a while, but he sure does abuse the privilege.” Phoenix’s laugh is a sharp, amused sound, and you can’t help but grin as Fanboy snickers beside you.

As the laughter fades, Phoenix crosses her arms, eyes scanning the new arrivals. "Look at them," she continues, voice dropping lower. "Some of the best pilots in the world."

Fanboy follows her gaze, nodding slowly as he takes a sip of his drink. "What the hell kind of mission is this?"

Phoenix doesn’t hesitate before replying, her eyes still locked on the door where the aviators continue to file in. "That’s not the question we should be asking. The question is... why are we here?" Her voice is full of quiet confidence. "Everyone in this room is the best there is."

You take a long breath, watching the others mingle. She’s right. These are the elite. Top-tier pilots with skills that are nearly impossible to match. Hell, even Hangman—despite his ego the size of a fighter jet—is one of them. And that’s the thing that nags at you. You know your own skillset—fast, unpredictable, and aggressive in the air. You’re good. Fast as hell, faster than most, but Hangman? He’s got aiming down to a science. The man can hit a target from miles away, practically at will.

So, if you’ve been brought here... to learn from them, or with them... what the hell kind of mission is this, really?

“Who the hell are they gonna bring to teach us?” Phoenix asks, and you know she’s been wondering the same thing you have. You’ve been trained by the best—hell, you are the best, in your own right. Who could possibly have more to offer you than what you’ve already learned?

And then, it hits you like a lightning strike.

“Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath, feeling a sudden wave of realization.

The person who’s going to teach you—the one who’s going to push you to the next level—isn’t some faceless instructor, isn’t some new face with more experience than you. No. The man who's going to be running this operation, the one who's going to make you push your limits...

It’s the same old man who’s standing at the bar, looking grumpy as he pays for your round of beers.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

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