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norrizzandpia · 4 months

Note

I absolutely love your writing, I am obsessedd! Could you do a story where yn is in a car crash (or something along those lines), and then a scared Lando? And I would love you even more if yn doesn't immediately wake up or immediately is ok

Kissess

Is it mentally ill for me to love this trope?

What Died Didn’t Stay Dead (LN4)

Summary: Y/n’s close to fatal car crash and the epiphanies that followed.

Warnings: detailed depictions of a car crash, mentions of death, lots of angst, happy ending

Note: GUESS WHO’S BACK AND READY TO WRITE OVER THE SUMMER

There was a distant memory of Lando going ninety in a forty-five as Y/n drove his McLaren to work. Her hands on the wheel and mind elsewhere, she giggled to herself when the image of him pouting at a ticket and its astronomical price sat in the forefront of her mind.

“Could you, for one second, respond to what I’m saying?” The voice of her boss rang through the car’s speakers.

Y/n rolled her eyes. She hated this woman. “I am responding to you. I just have nothing more to say.”

The woman coughed on the other side of the phone, phlegm prominent in the sound, “What you need to generally understand here is that we, as a company and a branch, cannot have you dating someone with such a high profile. Especially when he continually goes against vehicle regulations and laws. We are a law firm, Y/n. One that helps clients who have been involved in car accidents. Lando Norris, Formula One Driver and known speeder, dating someone who handles cases such as ours.”

Y/n nodded to herself, “I get that, Ann. But, I don’t know what you want me to do? You can’t fire me due to my personal relationships and you can’t demand me to separate from him. This is an empty issue, which you have brought to my attention without a concise and cohesive solution. When you can figure out a way for me to continue to date my partner and keep my job as it is without this supposed issue, come to me. But, for right now, it sounds as though this is empty complaining.”

Ann scoffed, “Between me and you, Y/n, it would be in your best interest to part ways with Lando Norris.”

Speechless and shocked, Y/n’s eyes averted to the screen with Ann’s name and number presented. She couldn’t believe the suggestion, much less the blatant disregard for professionalism. With the massive distraction, she failed to see the aggressive driver approaching her right in the rear view mirror.

A sentence she began to speak fell short when the car attempted to move into her lane, one that had no more space to accommodate his large truck. He hit her front bumper with such force she spun out into oncoming traffic. With the rush hour and the lack of free area to miss an out of control car, the McLaren was smashed to pieces after being hit at every angle and every speed.

The shredded mound of parts smacked the shoulder of the road, ending its violent rampage. Ann stayed quiet on the other side of the call, having heard Y/n’s screams and the dwindling of them as crunching metal continued on.

“Y/n?” She whispered into the speaker, but there was no answer.

—

“Oscar! That’s not the way you do it!” Lando screeched, looking at the phone screen and the comments popping up in outrage over the way Oscar was trying to mold his car.

The Australian just scrunched his nose at Lando, “I do things the way I want to!”

Raging laughter from Lando met the ears of everyone watching the stream just as Oscar’s clay car fell apart moments after he uttered his rebuttal.

His pale hands came up in defense, “How was I supposed to know?!”

Lando just continued laughing, “‘I do things the way I want to!’ Dumbass.”

Oscar scoffed and the words formed on his lips just as the door burst open. Adam stood at the threshold, eyes red and phone clutched to his ear as he stared at his son.

“Lando.” He said, his voice breaking.

Maybe it was the tone or the fact the syllables couldn’t quite leave his mouth because of the sobs emitting from him. Lando thought it had to have been the look on his father’s face, the pain etched into his eyes and his soul, that told me what he needed to know.

HIs face dropped, remnants of laughter completely destroyed by the suggestion of Adam’s sorrow. Lando grabbed the jacket off the back of his chair and in a haze, he muttered, “Is she dead?”

Part of him wished Adam would’ve given him a definite answer. Part of him thought the answer yes would’ve been better than the I don’t know he was given.

I don’t know meant Y/n was almost there. I don’t know meant Y/n was fighting for her life and what everyone knew her to be. He hated the idea she was fighting for the existence of her memory and the achievements he knew she was bound to make in the future.

When they left the room, running to the car outside and waiting for them, Lando hated the idea that Y/n was fighting for the future they had always wished to share together. Marriage, kids, settling down, and going gray with her was almost completely out of his reach and that dread prompted the vomit that spewed from his mouth into his backpack as they rode to the hospital.

—

Lando’s phone blew up so much, he had to shut it off, so the silence he was forced to endure in the chair of the hospital’s waiting room was brought about unwillingly.

At that point, his nails had been bitten so far down, he was bleeding. Blood only spurred the picture of Y/n dosed in it as she was lifted from his wrecked car.

The insurance company and McLaren had both agreed it was very clearly not Y/n’s fault and they would cover the cost of his beloved, customized McLaren.

Beloved.

He thought it had been funny when one of the McLaren engineers had said that to him, promising his “beloved” car back to its original state. Funny because “beloved” didn’t describe how he felt about that car. He loved that car. It was everything to him. He remembered getting the car, feeling as though his life had changed completely for the better with the presence of this beauty in his life. He cherished it, he took care of it, that car would always hold a piece of his heart.

Then he realized that the sentimental thoughts he was having surrounding the car was just an allegory for Y/n.

He loved Y/n. She was everything to him. He remembered meeting her, feeling as though his life had changed completely for the better with the presence of her beauty in his life. He cherished her, he took care of her, she would always hold a piece of his heart.

Losing her was not an option. It never would be.

Please, to anyone out there, do not take her from me, he pleaded out to the emptiness of the universe. An empty universe that was trying to take his happiness from him. A cruel universe that was trying to strip the world of her impact.

Please was the only word on his mind when the doctor appeared from behind the swinging doors that led to the operation rooms. A tired look on his face was warranted for the hours of work he had just put into trying to save Y/n’s life.

He stopped in front of Adam and Lando, his tall frame making them stand up. On wobbling legs, Lando began to cry.

”Please tell me she’s going to be okay. You have no idea who she is, what she has done. Please, Y/n has gone and could continue to go so far. This cannot be it for her. She has so much left to do. Please, tell me-”

“Lando,” The doctor interrupted, his hand on his shoulder as a comfort, “Her injuries were extensive, but she pulled through. The recovery will be long and painful, but there’s no permanent damage. She’s incredibly lucky and one of the strongest people I have ever helped.”

A loud sigh of relief left Lando’s mouth, his body slinking down into the chair behind him. He held his head in his hands, his fingers clasped together as he said a silent prayer to a God he thought he didn’t believe in.

Thank you, he gave over and over in his mind.

—

“Do you think I could see her now?” Lando caught up with the doctor’s steps as he seemed to be rushing to another room.

The man stopped, turned to Lando, and then cocked his head. He stared at him for a moment with the wheels turning in his head.

A curt nod and smile had Lando rushing off to the room number he had made the nurse repeat back to him so many times just so he could memorize it for when the time was right.

Now was his time.

Pulling open the door, he stopped himself. He prepared himself for the battered and bruised Y/n he was bound to see. Lando’s mind flooded with vivid videos of her laughing, sleeping on his chest, looking at him like he had single-handedly given her the world and more. He wanted to remind himself of that Y/n, not the one he was about to see. She would always be the same to him and he knew she would come back to him, but, for the time being, he knew he would have to rely on the memories of her where she was truly electrictrified with life.

He finally stepped through and the sight of her in whatever comatose state they had put her in made his teary eyes leak.

His body fell into the chair by her bed, his hand coming to clutch hers. Her skin was cold when he brought it to his cheek, but the red tint to her cheeks was still there.

Her lungs falling up and down grabbed his attention, “Baby,” He breathed, “I love you.”

Silence responded and he continued, “When you wake up, I promise you I will not continue to make the cowardly decision of chickening out of asking you to marry me. I know you know I have the ring. That night when I came home to you elbow deep in my sock drawer was a dead giveaway. I know you know it’s taking me so long to gain the courage and I thank you for being patient, but I cannot go another waking moment with the idea floating around in my head that there is a possibility you will never share my last name. I need you to be a Norris if it is the last thing I do.”

Her body stayed in its place and her hand stayed still in his clutch, but he knew she was in there. She needed her rest, just as the nurses had explained to him and he agreed. The bruises on her face, the casts surrounding her body, he didn’t want her to wake up to this.

—

And she wouldn’t have to. When she woke up weeks later, the bruises had healed, the cuts had become skin once more, and the casts had dwindled down to one. Lando was there too when her eyes squinted open and she groaned out. Groggy and confused, Y/n’s face turned to Lando’s. The two met each other’s eyes and the rest was expected. The rushed words of gratitude, love, and adoration accompanied by Lando’s repeated statements for her to marry her were all seemingly written in the stars. Cliche, maybe, but the way they held each other in the soft sunlight of her hospital room, the now fiancées happened upon the thought that whatever was meant to happen was going to happen.

And they were meant to happen.

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markrosewater · 4 months

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Elegance

Here’s my original article for Elegance.

This is a topic I’ve wanted to write about for a long time. Ironically, the words needed to explain the concept kept the column from being elegant. So I did what all artists do. I found a way to say a lot in a little space.

Enjoy,

Mark Rosewater

[NOTE: EACH OF THE ABOVE FIFTY WORDS IS HYPERLINKED. BELOW IS THE FIFTY HYPER LINKS. THE HEADERS SHOULDN’T BE ON THE LINKED PAGE. I’M JUST INCLUDING THEM SO YOU KNOW WHAT EACH LINK IS.]

ELEGANCE

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has five definitions for elegance:

• refined grace or dignified propriety

• tasteful richness of design or ornamentation

• dignified, gracefulness or restrained beauty of style

• scientific precision, neatness and simplicity

• something that is elegant

The common elements appear to be dignity, simplicity, and taste.

THIS

Elegance requires thinking, but it also requires feeling. Elegant prose is judged by how it makes the reader feel. It needs to generate a sense of calm that puts the reader at ease. Everything in your writing should feel as if it was carefully positioned to create the proper effect.

Pound for pound, the writer’s greatest writing tool is the verb. Nouns add substance and adjectives add flourish, but it’s the verb that drives the sentence. Choose a strong, descriptive verb and the sentence has flair and purpose. Choose a weak one and the sentence lacks any sense of drama.

Here’s a little game to test an elegance relevant skill (based on an old game called Inklings). Randomly choose a noun. Try to convey that noun to the other players using the least number of letters possible. You’ll be surprised how much you can communicate in just a few letters.

TOPIC

One of the greatest stumbling blocks to elegance is the inability to choose a single focus. Elegance requires simplicity. Simplicity requires a single purpose of thought. This means that elegance starts before you write a single word. A good sculptor must know his image before he picks up his chisel.

I’VE

One of the common misconceptions of elegance is that it requires a writer to be fancy. Elegance though is more about familiarity than formality. You shouldn’t be afraid of friendlier language such as slang or contractions, assuming that such language adds an element of ease rather than one of laziness.

WANTED

An important element of elegance is a sense of passion. Brevity does not mean pulling away emotionally from words, but rather the opposite. When you find yourself limited to fewer words, you must pack each individual word with extra emotional punch. You are not reducing your message, simply your messenger.

A good tool in understanding elegance is studying poetry. Poetry is the most concise of all written art forms. It strives to maximize impact while minimizing expression. Each word carries the burden of evoking some essence of the poet’s message. If it cannot carry its own weight, it is excised.

WRITE

To be an elegant writer, you have to become a student of prose. You have to study the mechanics of language to understand how it can be shaped. Once you have learned how to transfer the feeling in your head into meaningful words, you are on the path to elegance.

ABOUT

Be careful not to fall in love with ambiguity. While intoxicating in its beauty, it is the enemy of elegance. Remember, the goal is not to make the reader struggle for comprehension. Rather it is to lead them to the obvious conclusion. Elegance should be used to illuminate, not confuse.

FOR

Elegant prose requires connecting with your reader. To do this, you have to understand who that reader is. Nothing should come before this task. It needs to be done before writing can begin. I like to compare this to planning a trip. Maps are useless until you know your destination.

Another major key to elegance is the understanding of the importance of the tiniest detail. Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a piece of prose is only as tight as its messiest detail. A good writer doesn’t stop at the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

LONG

Don’t confuse elegance with brevity. Elegant things are short not because they have to be but because the difficulty to craft an elegant piece of prose combined with the limitations of time forces writers to be brief. Elegant novels, for example, do exist, but they are few and far between.

TIME

To quote Roman orator (and letter writer) Marcus T. Cicero, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Simplicity takes more time not less. Anyone can get a point across with ten thousand words. But a true artist can do it in ten (or possibly fifty).

IRONICALLY

Irony is a potent tool for commentary. Its genius lies in the fact that it comments not on what is, but rather on what isn’t. Like all good humor, irony makes you laugh. But like the best type of humor, it also makes you think. It’s both funny and funny.

THE

Elegance in writing is about more than words. Equally important is how the words are woven together. Tempo, pacing, rhythm – these are the tools that set the mood for the piece. Try reading aloud your text. The natural beat of language is more suited for the ear than the eye.

WORDS

To realize the power of words, you must first understand how they work. Art is expressive; words are connotative. That is, words draw their power from their ability to extract different ideas from different people. A circle is a circle, but the concept of “scary” varies from person to person.

NEEDED

Elegance is not the result of any one attribute. It is the combination of numerous factors coming together in harmony. This is why it’s such a hard skill to master. Most people can pat their head or rub their tummy. But put them together and it’s not quite so easy.

An elegant piece of prose needs to hit the reader at a gut level. Often they won’t know exactly why they like it, but they will recognize that something about the piece moves them. There are many types of writing where subtlety is lost. Elegant writing isn’t one of them.

EXPLAIN

There are many ways for you to explain an idea. The most elegant one though is not through definition but by example. By connecting your idea to one already known by the reader, you’re leaving the work of teaching to someone in the past. Education is hard. Comparison is easy.

THE

If writing is like building a house, the structure is like the foundation. Its design will dictate how the house is built. If it’s faulty, no amount of fancy brickwork will undo the damage. So take the time to ensure your structure is building the kind of prose you want.

CONCEPT

Never underestimate the power of a concept. An important part of elegance is condensing big ideas into little words. This is far from an easy task. It often takes a genius an entire lifetime to create a truly innovative concept. So take advantage of all their hard work and inspiration.

KEPT

A common barrier to elegance is the belief that only one way will work. Often a writer is unable to abandon a beloved piece of prose even when evidence demonstrates otherwise. If something doesn’t add to the larger sense of the piece, you have to learn to let it go.

THE

Readers notice things at a minute level far beyond their mind’s ability to interpret. This means that although they may not consciously notice many of your tiny details, they will do so unconsciously. Aesthetics teach us that it’s this unconscious structure that will determine whether or not it feels “right”.

COLUMN

All communicators, whether through speaking or print, need to find a voice. A voice provides familiarity and it teaches the listener or reader how to more quickly absorb the information. Elegance is all about the conservation of ideas. Having a pre-learned voice to guide you is a very valuable tool.

FROM

I’ve spent some time talking about understanding your reader. But there is one more person who is even more important to understand – yourself. Writing is about sharing your ideas with others. If you haven’t spent the time to figure out what you think, how can you possibly communicate it?

BEING

“A picture is worth a thousand words.”

Or so the saying goes. What the cliché forgets to mention is how many words a single word is worth. For example, take the word “being”. To capture the essence of what “being” represents is tens of thousands of words if not more.

ELEGANT

What is the value of being elegant? Why should you care? Elegance adds aesthetics. It evokes poetry. It grants beauty. Elegant prose draws the reader closer because it gives them something to not just learn but to admire. Good prose stimulates the head, but elegant prose resonates in the heart.

Who, what, where, when, how - all important questions. But for a writer they pale next to why. If you don’t understand the reasoning beneath the surface, the other details are irrelevant. The act of elegance is cementing the why. It’s taking the purpose and engraining it into the piece.

Elegance is a very personal thing. If something doesn’t resonate with you, there’s no way for it to resonate with your reader. Writing is an art, not a science. There is no rulebook for how things must be done. If your instincts are telling you that something isn’t working, listen.

DID

An important tool in your toolbox is time. Elegance cannot be rushed. Mental ruts only get deeper the harder you focus on them. Make sure to work time into your schedule so you are able to walk away from your writing. An hour next week is worth a day today.

WHAT

Don’t let attention to detail pull you away from having a larger sense of what you’re writing. Take this column as an example. While I spent a lot of time fine tuning each entry I never lost sight of the effect they created when all the entries were put together.

ALL

Elegance requires taking a holistic view of writing. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph is a piece in a larger puzzle. It’s not enough to understand the impact of a single element. You must understand how any two elements interact if you want to understand the potency of your text.

ARTISTS

Elegance and art are very intertwined. Both seek to achieve a similar goal: to illuminate and inspire with a conservation of expression. If you’re trying to be elegant, I think it helps to think of yourself as an artist. The instinct for the latter mirrors the needs of the former.

An important part of any writing is understanding the feeling you’re trying to evoke. And then realizing what mechanic tools you have available to evoke that feeling. Diction, verb tense, sentence length, alliteration, word flow, phonetic juxtaposition – each of these will control the mood and tone of your piece.

A writer’s life is the ultimate fodder. Don’t be ashamed to plumb your own experiences. You understand them deeper and more personally than anyone else. No painter would refuse to use his finest paints. And, as a bonus, by using your own experiences, you will become better educated about yourself.

FOUND

Don’t forget that the act of revealing is also an act of exploration. Don’t be afraid if you learn more than the reader you’re trying to educate. Writing is not an exact science. (Or even an exact art.) Often you will find that the road to salvation has a fork.

Your future is paved with your past. If you want to learn how to grow as a writer, you need to look back at what you’ve written. With time and a detached eye, your will find your mistakes become clearer. Remember that it’s failure, not success, that bests drives education.

WAY

The problem with looking for a single solution is that you’ll never find more than one. And the first one isn’t always the best. But if you’re open to the possibility that every problem has an infinite number of answers, you’ll have the freedom of choosing the solution you want.

Sentences are filled with freeloaders. Because writers seem to love overwriting. (I include myself in this camp.) Make sure to create time for the editor side of you to prune unnecessary words. If a word can be excised without any harm to the sentence, it has no right being there.

SAY

I’m spending my time today talking about elegance in prose, but most of what I’m saying is applicable in speech. The key difference is that prose has less defining attributes like appearance or tone. The key to elegant speech is making people focus on the words rather than everything else.

It’s ironic that something designed to be so simple can be so complex. But that, my faithful readers, is the joy (and mystery) of elegance. Like an onion, elegance has numerous layers that reveal themselves as you slowly peel them away. Oh yeah, and it can sometimes make you cry.

LOT

An interesting exercise is to look at each word you’re using and think about how much content is loaded in that word. Then explore what other words exist that fulfill the same role but with added content. Once you’ve found the word you can’t best, move onto the next word.

A good way to get better at understanding elegance is to look for it in every day life. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised where and how often you find it. Study each example carefully and try to see if you can put your finger on what makes it work.

Writing is a shared endeavor. No one owns the words. If someone uses a technique that works, there’s no shame in borrowing it. Like science, writing creates technology that’s brought back to the group to spur further advancements. Elegance is hard enough to accomplish without refusing to use the toolbox.

LITTLE

How big should a piece of text be if you want it to be elegant? The answer is as big as it needs to be – and not a word more. Just think of it as playing the game Jenga. Keep pulling words out of your prose until it collapses.

SPACE

One of the most important lessons in art is learning the value of negative space, the idea that the eyes are equally drawn to what isn’t there. Prose has a very similar quality. When writing pay careful attention to what you aren’t saying. Often it will speak the loudest volume.

ENJOY

For some reason people tend to equate dignity with seriousness. And as such they come to the false conclusion that elegance has no room for humor. Ironic as humor is one of the most elegant of styles. A good joke is no longer than is necessary to do its job.

MARK

As is always true when I head off the beaten path, I am curious to hear your feedback. What did you think of this article? Was it entertaining? Was it educational? Did you actually read all fifty links? And if not, why not?

Tell me. Inquiring mind wants to know.

ROSEWATER

I couldn’t end this week’s column without my trademark closing. I mean, how inelegant would that be?

Join me next week when I go from being a letter man to a Letterman.

Until then, may you learn to appreciate now just the “what” but the “how” and “why”.

Mark Rosewater

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eightstarr · 5 months

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visions — abby anderson.

summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).

notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3

do not support zionist neil druckmann or any future tlou realeases.

daily click. learn about palestine. donate and share!

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.

You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.

The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.

What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.

In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable.

You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.

“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.

You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”

Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.

Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”

You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”

Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”

Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”

“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.

“Would you like some help?”

“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”

“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”

People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.

Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.

Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.

“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it— you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”

“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.

“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”

“Princess.”

Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”

“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”

“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”

“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”

“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”

“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”

You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”

You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”

Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.

“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”

Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”

—

You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.

“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.

“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.

“The school meeting.”

“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”

Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.

You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.

“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”

It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”

Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.

“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.

“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”

“Which Sophie?”

“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”

“Oh, I like that Sophie.”

“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”

Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”

You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.

“If Rue called you mom.”

Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”

Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”

“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”

Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”

“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”

She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”

“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”

Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”

Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”

“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”

After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.

“You think she wants me to be her mom?”

Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”

Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”

“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?

You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby anderson x female!reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson headcanons #mom!abby #doctor!abby

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wooataes · 1 year

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Bangtan’s Receptionist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.

Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!

- Tae 🥰💜✨

Request to join my taglist here!

Masterlist

Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.

You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.

“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.

“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”

“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.

After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.

“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.

“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”

You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”

You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.

“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”

“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”

“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”

“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.

“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.

“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.

“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.

“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.

“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”

“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”

“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.

“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”

Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.

“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”

Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.

“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”

“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”

“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.

“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.

A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.

“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”

“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.

“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.

It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts ot7 x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi mafia AU #BTS mafia AU #BTS AU #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x You #min yoongi

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shiningmystic · 1 month

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Messages from your Spirit Guides PAC 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

─── ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ───

Welcome friends, to your sprit guide reading whoever your guides may be they always respond to you.

I only call upon the spirits that look fondly upon you and see the being beneath all the judgement and ego, there is just essence. Unconditional love is what I always dip down to even if there are days that I cannot do it for myself, I know it is always present and that gives me much comfort on my worst days. Mental health awareness is real and always check in with yourself especially being chronically honed in on the bad shit that happens around you or is happening. Cultivating slowness is an everyday job for all of us but when we do it we do become thankful. I'm a bit rusty so forgive me if some of my words may be repetitive. Drop a follow to know when I post another general reading!

Pick your Photo:

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Pile I: colors of light ��🏾‍♀️

The lovers (rx), 6 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, the heirophant (rx), 9 of wands (rx)

Back of the deck: ace of cups (rx), knight of swords, 7 of cups

Pile one to begin, your guides sent me images of the sun peering through glass and reflecting rainbow colors which really makes me feel as though you are a deep person but from day to day you may feel dull. Your guides are reminding you, sending you messages of your inner light and how it shines out even if you hide it and reflects back in people places or things. There is a lot about beauty here and how to stay genuine to yourself; your beauty is unique and comparing your beauty to someone else’s is a crime against them and you. If you genuinely don’t think you’re beautiful on outside, then there are always ways to work with what we have when we are ready to tackle it (honestly sometime i need to cry it out). Now on with the card pull:

Wow, I feel a lot going on with so many messages, I’ll try and keep it concise.

First message: you will always be enough is a huge message. It doesn’t matter even if they left you, even if someone who you loved told you that you were too much or even feeling that way towards yourself and your guides do not agree. The more we believe that the more we hurt ourselves and continue to prove it right. Even if you are ‘too much’ there are people out there that would disagree. - huge lesson I’m learning is that two truths can exist at the same space even if they oppose the other. For example, when I talk about my trauma, I feel vulnerable and fearful yet after the fact I feel both emotions, strong and weak. Both fear and strength. You are not to much and even if they couldn’t handle you, your a whole lot of love and light especially from the energy from the image.

Message two: some of you are away from family or your country, things are changing and it’s overwhelming in many ways. There is a lot of choices and a lot of overwhelming feelings towards making them. Your guides are advising you to trust in yourself and ignore the voices around that do not harbor understanding. Trust in your own judgment and believe in what you’re doing because it is your life and your actions that shape it; you will be the one living with it so always believe in yourself, you know what’s best for you and even when we make that mistake, we need a gentle reminder that mistakes are apart of success. if you don't give yourself the space to learn then you will continue to never know what is for you.

Message three: it’s always you pile one that always gets the message to be kinder to yourself; life isn’t a strict fast paced all or nothing (obviously life is very hard now for many.) but your guides are reminding you life will have its downs and if you can’t take time for those downs then they will be crashes. I’m feeling loved ones coming through this pile, so just know your guides understand your struggle and want to remind you as well that they are always with you.

Lots of burn out energy, you are so strong, please believe me when I say you are enough.

To the lovely humans who broke up with someone or let go of a person who you love but was toxic, you did the right thing for yourself, i send you love my love.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

Pile II: Stepping stones ☄️

8 of cups, the hierophant, 7 of cups (rx), ace of pentacles, temperance, the moon

Back of the deck: queen of wands and 2 of cups (rx)

Right now you’re stepping up to the unknown, it’s natural to be fearful of risk. Pile 2 I sense that good things will come to you when you make the choice, even with hesitation don’t doubt the choices you have already made. all we can do is what we know now. the effort you put into your work will pour back into you. I can sense a lot of hesitation but still moving forward and that takes courage! Your guides are proud of you stepping up to the plate.

I can see some people going back to school and graduating scared that they will never find stability. Some of you are taking chances and starting businesses especially creative ones (relatable content). Your guides are supporting you on your financial endeavors and know the future feels scary for many.

It’s very unstable in many places right now so I understand the confusion and the fear but the pendulum always swings back and things always go back into balance again even by force (which we shouldn’t let it to come to an extreme but whatever.) You are strong people but this creativity needs to be grounded in reality when it comes to money; be realistic and continue with your motivated attitude towards your endeavors. honestly some of you are and are focusing to hard on the little details, relax and just do what's in front of you.

Believe in yourself pile 2. You have grown to doubt yourself and abilities at times because of push back and it’s actually super healthy for intelligent people to question themselves but to much self doubt only leaves us frozen. Now is the time to go ahead and shine!

The energy for you is ripe with opportunities your guides are saying go ahead, take the calculated risk, do the thing you want to but just know take time to do it with love and integrity you will succeed.

The moon and the 7 of cups reverse tell me about your doubt, anxiety and not knowing what may happen is the worst but life is all about the mystery and discovering your path. dear wanderer, not all souls who walk a lonely path are lost, maybe you'll run into another.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

Pile III: Glowing mushrooms 🍄

Page of cups, Death, The Emperor, King of pentacles, strength (rx), Ace of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, Page of Swords

Your path to transformation takes determination and strength, but understand the power is within you and how you have gotten far.

Mushrooms are pretty crazy! They grow in so many places and are resilient; I’m not saying you’re a mushroom (even though honestly, it’s a vibe) but your guides are bringing it up. Every photo is connected to the pile it is above and yours is about your strength and resilience (pile 2 as well but it's much more emphasized here).

I mean so many people are keeping it together right now and you’re no different but I feel an extra sprinkle of shit being thrown your way recently or this could be a theme. Keep doing what you’re doing is a message for many but to keep taking the steps to this new life and I mean new life. I don’t mean moving away and starting over (unless that resonates) but you are changing it up, starting new habits and new routines, taking steps constantly at a different pace but never stopping, (it’s a lot that you have been juggling I’m surprised I don’t see the 2 of pentacles) Your guides are like Dang they got this.

Lots are taking big steps in life atm and your frozen on a choice (pile 2 also has some of that energy) there is a message of that you’re only human and sometimes it’s alright to be vulnerable and look back at the good times but the here and now is calling, stay focused and channel your emperor energy guys.

Please don’t neglect your mental health, many of you may be overworking even when you feel like you haven’t pushed yourself hard enough *whacks head* stop! You are working enough it’s just that things in reality are kinda messed up and that’s why there so many of us like this. the world is dysfunctional so of course we will be too. But of course that doesn’t solve the issue of having to keep on when your anxious and depressed, but a minute of your day is all you need to cry, to get a hug from someone, I always recommend self care. You can be strong and vulnerable at the same time and I’m willingly absorbing the information from my therapist on how two truths can exist at the same time even if they oppose the other. Be upset and when you can get up and finish that assignment, project, shipment, sale, you seriously got this but I know this is more about the stress and anxiety all this work carries with it.

Stable energy is present in the spread which makes me feel like your guides are just cheering you on knowing how hard it has been and that you are reaching positive new things especially with Death and this transformation that been going on. Be wary of spending for right now (as i assume you are tbh) but know that finances energetically will grow , just stay on task and carry yourself with pride because you are amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

So those were the messages I picked up on, I hope they comfort and support you in some way, or even give you advice. Stay humble and lovely my friends.

Tarot decks used: Rider-Waite tarot deck

- ShiningMysticTarot ☀️

#witchblr #general tarot reading #shmtarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #spirit guides #spirit guide reading #spirituality #tarot #tarot reader

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cozycottagetarot · 4 months

Text

You & Your Person: Relationship Dynamics

This Reading Covers the relationship dynamics in general and how you and your person show up in the relationship.

This Extended Reading Covers:

The Strengths and The Roles You Both Play

The Challenges and The Roles You Both Play

Bonus Question

Notes:

I loosely used the tarot in this one. I considered the traditional meanings but also factored in what I got from the imagery along with what my intuition was telling me.

This reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨

Dividers From X

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

Group 1

The Relationship In General

Cards: King of Cups, Five of Wands, Ten of Wands, The Thief, The Assassin

This isn't the best opening line, but this relationship has a dynamic that very easily has the potential to become toxic, however it does not mean it will be. Now stay with me! I've been struggling with how to do this reading but the energy I’m picking up on has been very adamant about me not trying to be all rainbows and sunshine’s with this pile. This relationship is heavy. It is mentally taxing. You’ve both got your shadow attributes and they clash. But at the same time, there is so much love here… it’s almost as if there’s so much love that you end up drowning in it.

You show up in this relationship as The Thief. You’re the sweet talker, I was going to say spontaneous one (that could still be true) but I'm getting that that's not exactly it. You’re the sweet talker here. The Thief has their own agenda and has a streak of luck. I can’t say you’re the dominant one because it feels like two dominant people together, but you’re the outspoken one who kind of calls the shots while your person has a more passive (aggressive) type of dominance. It’s more like you call the shots until your person has had enough of it and then suddenly you don’t.

The Assassin represents your person. They may not be the best at maintaining relationships but they know they have to put in the effort and they do so. I think this is why the relationship works. Yes, you two may clash and the relationship takes a lot of work, but because you’re both able to and willing to put in that work, you’re able to return to that state of love or emotional balance and make it work.

To summarize, you and your person both have strong personalities. These personalities can clash, but when they do you two work it out you come back together closer. There’s also a thick tension here. I think it's a very fiery build-up between you two... If people were watching you two they’d question if you’re going to try to kill each other or have a rough night in the bedroom when you go home.

If you've made it this far, thank you! ♡ If you'd like to see the extended version which includes the strengths and challenges of the relationship as well as bonus question specific to each group, you can check out my Patreon here.

Group 2

The Relationship In General

Cards: Page of Cups, King of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Sailor, The Poet

Your relationship with your person seems like one that is delicate. There's so much potential surrounding what can come of it and I think both you and your person are aware of that and put in the work. There's a levelheaded flexibility here. You're both clear and concise on what you want (seeing where the relationship goes) and because of this you two can take the necessary actions to cultivate this relationship and all the possibilities of what you two can become.

Here you show up as the sailor. I don’t really think you’re the type of person to be tied down easily. It's like yes you'd like to call someone to call home, but you're not calling just anyone you get along with home. Maybe that’s why the relationship seems delicate... because this person is the one person you’d lower your anchor for. I think you bring the adventure to the relationship and not just in the sense of let's try a new restaurant, but as in let's move to a different country for a month! You've got a restless energy. Always on the go. Always curious about what lies beyond. I think it adds an extra weight or importance that you’d settle down with them. Not for but with.

Your person shows up as the poet. They bring the charm and the romance making the relationship seem like the best kind of love story. They're very open and adaptable. For some of you this could be a long distance relationship or there is a distance of some kind between you and your person (it could be like a two hour drive, different work shifts etc)... so whenever you two are able to spend time together your person does their best to make sure there's some wow factor when you two are together. They just have such a beautiful energy I think you'll always find yourself enamored by them.

Group 3

The Relationship In General

Cards: Page of Swords, Ten of Pentacles, Three of Wands, The Aspirant, The Sentinel

I feel like you have this relationship with your person locked down! You and your person are all about expanding your material wealth or physical aspects of your relationship (home, car, trips, finances, etc). For some of you, you two could even be in some business endeavor together, but at the very least you two are always about maintaining the stability of your relationship and making sure the relationship is without want. You will always be looking to improve and I feel like you two may end up experimenting a lot within your relationship with different plans for your combined futures.

You show up in the relationship as The Aspirant. You’re the one who has the grand vision for the relationship in a way. You see the final destinations in all the endeavors you and your partner dream up together. You have the keys to making the relationship work and making sure you attain the success you both seek. I’m also hearing generational wealth may be of importance for you as well.

Your person shows up as The Sentinel. They guard these ideas of yours, they guard the relationship and they guard the stability. The aspirant doesn’t see obstacles, only the goal which can end up setting the back but the sentinel does see obstacles and overcomes them and that’s exactly how you two work together as a unit.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #pac #cozycottagetarot #cozycottagetarot readings #free tarot reading #tarot readings #future spouse #future spouse reading

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mockerycrow · 10 months

Note

CONGRATS ON YOUR 4K POOKIE I’M SO GLAD FOR YOU, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

can i pretty please request roach x gn!reader with a fluff prompt “god, i’m so glad you’re alright”, after him and ghost survive “loose ends”, because they were warned in time that they cannot trust shepherd. THANK YOU AND CONGRATS AGAIN, MWAHHH

- 🐇

STILL STANDING (Roach x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; talks about death, life affirming kisses, roach is selectively mute, fluff.]

IT WAS THE last second. It was the very last second when Roach and Ghost had heard Price’s panicked shouts through the radio, to not trust Shepherd, to go somewhere else, that they will meet again. Ghost and Roach had exchanged panicked glances the DSM in Roach’s hands when at the last second, they turned around in went deep into the woods, a completely different direction than where the chopper with Shepherd was—anything to survive that.

All Roach could think about was you and others. Ghost and Roach had cut all contact, knowing Shepherd’s men would canvas the surrounding areas for a couple of days, weeks at most; they managed to find an extremely rundown medium sized shed, one that was hidden by brush and trees. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shelter the two from the natural elements.

Combining Ghost and Roach’s wilderness survival skills, they were able to scrounge up food when they ran out of MREs. It has to be day six when he begins to think about you again—wondering, hoping you were good they got away.

That leads him to dread another possibility; would Shepherd go after you next? Would he be found, only to be let know you’re rotting in a pool of your own blood somewhere? There’s too much that would be left unsaid between you two, not enough fucking time.

When Roach approached Ghost with his predicament, rapidly signing his thoughts—way too fast for Ghost to understand. “I— wha— alright, slow down, will ya? Can barely understand you.” Ghost says, putting his hands up as if to calm him.

Like anything could calm him; not when he had a nightmare about finding you cold and dead.

Roach takes in a slow breath as he forces his hands to slow down into more concise sentences so the other masked man can understand him. “When will we be out of here, Lieutenant?” Roach signs, watching how Ghost’s eyes track the movements of his hands and fingers. Ghost crosses his arms, his eyes flickering up to Roach’s. “I’m not too sure, I don’t think too much longer. Why?”

Roach signs your name and that’s all it takes for it to register in Ghost’s head, his eyebrows raising above the sunglasses he’s wearing. “Oh, you’re worried about them, are ya?” Ghost hums. “I’m sure they’re fine, we’ll try to contact ‘em tomorrow.” Roach let’s out a huff of relief and lazily signs thank you before he sits down on the wooden floor of the shed next to some of his gear.

Roach doesn’t sleep much that night, ranging from the fact they’re going to attempt to make contact again and the gnawing worry in his stomach; as well as the fact they’re still sleeping in shifts just in case. Roach is awoken by Ghost grabbing his shoulder and shaking him awake, his voice urging for him to wake up. Roach groggily sits up whilst Ghost stupidly tries to tell him what he has to say right off the bat, causing Roach to just stare at him with exhausted eyes.

Ghost lets out a sigh. “Roach.” He utters, waiting for Roach to give him a sign he is processing things. Roach takes a second before nodding, running his fingers through his hair. His helmet and goggles are by his side which Roach grabs before adjusting the tan mask on his face. “I made contact, they’re fine.” Ghost murmurs, making Roach light up, his eyebrows raising. He begins to rapidly sign, making Ghost chuckle. “Calm down, will ya? We’re meeting them 2 klicks north from here, so we can regroup.”

Roach wastes no time, quickly putting on his helmet and goggles, clicking the strap. He adjusts the goggles and the man stands up so quickly, he’s dizzy. “Woah there—“ Ghost grabs his shoulder to steady the man, but Roach quickly begins to gather his things, reorganizing what’s needed in his bag. The excitement and nervousness beneath his skin threatened to burst with every moment, his fingers trembling. Roach knows he needs to feel you under his fingers to properly process you’re genuinely okay.

Ghost packs his stuff as well, and they work together to make it look like no one was in the shed in the first place. They leave the shed with their guns in hand, slowly making their way through the thick forest towards the location. Roach is deep in thought as they begin their journey; are you as relieved as he is? He hopes so, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want you to be so worried over him. Roach keeps reminding himself to sign slowly for you, because he knows the second he sees you, he won’t be able to properly sign.

His heart is pounding in his chest as Ghost utters that they’re close, that they should be able to spot a vehicle soon. A few more minutes of walking and they hear shuffling of leaves. Roach quickly turns and aims his rifle—it’s you. He nearly drops his rifle, a smile widening under his mask. You’re running towards him which does actually prompt him to drop his rifle—his bootcamp instructors are screaming at him in his head—but he starts running towards you as well. You run right into him, nearly toppling him over with your hug, your arms wrapping tightly around him. Roach’s hands scramble to grab onto your gear, stumbling around as you sniffle, holding onto him.

Roach lets out a shuddery breath, relief rolling off of him in waves. His tense shoulders relax once he finally has you in his arms. You pull your head away enough to look at him in the eyes, tears in your own. “God, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Your voice cracks as you express your relief. Roach’s breath hitches in his throat and he lets go of you, shakily ripping his helmet off, dropping it in the sticks and leaves to the side. He raises his goggles to sit on his forehead and he rips his mask down before he cups your cheeks and presses a desperate kiss against your lips which you return. You both know you’ll equally be embarrassed about this, kissing so needily in front of the others, but it’s needed—you both needed it.

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calicoheartz · 4 months

Note

Omg Nika headcannons from you would be AMAZINGGGG she’s so gf

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐌Ü𝐇𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐂𝐒

꣑୧ — summary | just nika muhl as your girlfriend !!

— warnings | pure fluff !! nsfw @ the bottom , read at your own risk

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : yippeeee I’m finally writing for our croatian baddie !!! tysm for requesting and enjoy ! ◡̈

romantic gestures

we alllll know our girl is a romantic @ heart ! she loves planning candlelit dinners , stargazing dates , and giving you flowers every chance she gets just because !

you mean the world to her so she will always be looking for ways to show her love and appreciation for you 💌

physical activity (?) together

she lovessss being active with you !!! Whether it’s playing basketball (her personal fav) going on runs , or trying out new sports , she loves the bond that comes from shared physical activity ◡̈

heartfelt conversations

I feel like Nika would value deep , meaningful conversations.

she loved staying up late and talking about their dreams , fears , and everything in between.

she believes strong and concise communication is key to have a strong and healthy relationship 💗

affection

she is soooo protective over you !! she always wants to make sure you’re comfortable or safe (even if it means socking someone in the face)

&& our girl ISNT shy about showing affection ! Best believe her hand is always somewhere on your body. Whether your hands are intertwined or her hand is glued to your thigh , she loves having you near her !

random hcs !

she loves surprising you with little gestures like leaving sweet notes in unexpected places , planning surprise dates , or bringing home your favorite food & snacks !

I feel like she’d really enjoy adventurous dates that can range from climbing to hiking , as she loves experiencing new things especially if it’s with you 😋

LOVES cooking with you !! Best believe you’re often spending evenings in the kitchen , experimenting with new recipes , and sharing a glass of wine together. It’s your special time to connect and unwind :)

you both are each others biggest cheerleaders , always their to support your dreams and ambitions.

makes personal playlists for you !! Each playlist is carefully curated to reflect your relationship, filled with songs that remind her of you and your shared experience

she’s 1000% a dom. argue w a wall. I know she just loves the idea of taking care of you , ofc you want to please her as well but your pleasure is her top priority!

is a strap girly 10000% . will use her fingers if necessary but she swears she can feel u w her strap on

rough sex ??? (will be soft if asked / needed)

gets jealous super easily & is lowkey rlly possessive of u

I hc her as a service top , again ur pleasure > anything

overstimulation galoreee

one word ; her hands.

yayaya im so excited to begin writing more for nika ! rest assured , there’s more fics on the way ◡̈ thanks again for reading ◡̈

#wlw #wcbb #wlw imagine #wcbb x reader #my hcs #headcannons #nika mühl #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #uconn x reader #uconn vs iowa #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies

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legobiwan · 4 months

Note

For the drabble prompt list

"none of this is your fault" mario and luigi

Drabbles, they said, Ha! I answered. Anyway, I have no idea where this came from, but enjoy this barely-edited not-drabble. I am apparently incapable of concise writing right now :D

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

“None of this is your fault, Lou.”

Luigi scoffed, pushing dampened sleeves up both arms, smearing dark, sweaty grease across his skin in wide, impressionistic lines.

“You tell that to Toadsworth in three days. I’m sure he’ll be happy to believe you,” Luigi groused, tightening a stubborn, thick bolt with a violent twist. That should keep the engine boosters from flying off at speeds exceeding thirty miles an hour. (Or as they were counted in the Mushroom Kingdom, five hundred and two mycelia per second, a measuring system so opaque - and infuriating - that Luigi had sat through an entire five-hour Toad Council meeting just so he could petition the government to introduce a bill to launch a public vote on switching to any other quantifier that made a modicum of sense. The notion, of course, was voted down in a manner of seconds. Tradition, Mister Luigi, Toadsworth had sniffed, rapping his long-handled gavel with an imperious gesture, closing off all debate on the matter).

Snobby old toad could stuff it up his spore holes.

“He’ll get over it,” Mario said. “What’s he going to do, anyway? Make us sit through another boring state dinner?”

Luigi poked at a serpentine belt that resembled some slices of old cheese he once found in the back of their fridge in Brooklyn. How these guys managed to stay competitive with equipment in this condition was a complete slap in the face to basic physics.

“You like those dinners.” Luigi crawled out from under the dented chassis, sitting back on his haunches as he gestured at his brother with a ratchet-wrench, making curly patterns in the air as if he were a Magikoopa casting a spell.

“I hate those dinners as much as you. They’re hot, stuffy, and the food is an insult to the entirety of Brooklyn. It’s not my fault I get to sit next to Peach and you’re always stuck with Lady Maitake and her hundreds of onion bulb-pup photos for two hours.”

“Don’t remind me. Did you know she’s trying to train them to do circus acts and take them on the road?” Luigi ran a finger down one of the dusty schematics strewn about the stone floor. “Hand me that spanner, will you?”

Mario shook his head, chuckling, handing off the hooked tool to Luigi, who shimmied once more underneath the maroon-and-black kart. “Look, you got hoodwinked into a bad contract. I should have looked over the fine print before you signed.”

“You’re not my keeper, Mario,” Luigi grumbled, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “And it’s not even the contract that I care about. Frankly, I’m impressed Bowser’s been able to get these things to do anything beyond cough up smoke and crash into the nearest palm tree. It’s a good challenge to get them running again.”

“So what’s the issue, then?”

Luigi stilled, his hands guts-deep in a mess of wiring and cables that looked like an earthworm graveyard. After a moment, he sighed, letting the spanner tool clatter to the floor with a bright, metallic jangle.

“The issue,” he began, staring up at the internal electronic system of one of Bowser’s so-called best racing karts. “Is that he’s probably going to win. Bowser, that is. And everyone will make nice about it at the awards ceremony and Bowser will get too drunk on elderflower wine and get kicked out of the post-race party.”

“That happens every race, Lou.”

“Yeah, but you know Bowser. He’ll let it slip that I was the one doing repairs on his karts. And then in the morning, there will be a meeting. And Toadsworth will go on about the standing of the Kingdom being compromised and it being a diplomatic catastrophe that we allowed Bowser to win and that,” Luigi adopted a whiny, pompous voice. “Mr. Luigi has once again strained his credibility within the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“Look, that stodgy old Toad has no chance of making those charges stick. You were exonerated, Weeg. Nothing that happened with Bleck - “ Mario clenched his fists, hissing through his teeth. “Nothing that happened in that place was you. That wasn’t your fault, and neither is this.”

Luigi reached towards one of the dangling battery coils, playing with the violet and yellow wires between his fingers. “Sure,” he breathed. “Not me.”

“Not you,” Mario insisted, his voice steely. “And besides,” he continued, a hint of humor creeping into his words. If you’re so concerned about Toadsworth, why don’t you sabotage Bowser’s fleet?”

Luigi pushed himself out from under the kart, snapping up to a seat in wide-eyed horror.

“And ruin my reputation as an engineer? No way, bro. I’ll risk the treason charges, thank you very much.”

Mario guffawed, ambling over to take a seat next to his brother, the two coming shoulder-to-shoulder, backs set against the passenger door of the Koopa Coupe. “I think your reputation is beyond reproach, Lou.” Mario gave a small, uncertain smile. “After all, you did build two killer robots in the span of two weeks.”

It was a huge step forward, just being able to talk about the whole incident in Flipside, no less joke about it - the ordeal with Bleck and the jester and Luigi’s brainwashing. Mario had stayed tight-lipped about the entire debacle for weeks after they had gotten back, much to Luigi’s aggravation, until things came to a head one night due to a series of ill-conceived plans on the part of the Toad Council, the most brazen of which featured a misserved cup of tea laced with a dubiously legal truth potion.

Luigi sniffed out half a chuckle, nudging his brother in the shoulder. “Well, I can’t let Bowser think I’m slipping, right?”

Mario eyed his brother carefully, his features brightening as he caught the note of mischief in Luigi’s voice. Grinning, he clapped his brother on the knee. “You’ve got an idea, don’t you? The Old Koopa King doesn’t know what he’s got coming.”

Luigi straightened, composing himself into the picture of innocence. “Dear brother, I am a man of my word. Bowser will win the race, just like the contract stipulates.”

“And?”

“Aaand,” Luigi drew out the word, schematics and thermodynamic equations taking shape in his mind. “Let’s say the engine modifications I’m making happen to engage a set of rocket boosters at a certain speed threshold. Bowser’ll like that. But then maybe the activation of those boosters, given a certain location and time input, temporarily cede control of the brakes and steering to a pre-programmed route of the engineer’s choosing.” Luigi paused for dramatic effect. “All after the race is finished, of course. No injuries. No harm. Just a little post-race joyride through the forest.”

Mario gave a joyous whoop, bringing his brother into a tight, side-hug. “They’ll hear him screaming all the way in Rogueport! Ha! You know he’ll threaten to invade during the after-party! No one will care if you worked on his kart once he shows back up breathing smoke!”

“He’ll do that regardless,” Luigi laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “But you know how these modifications are. Always a chance of overburdening your circuits.”

“And at least it’ll be a while before he tries to trick you into doing his dirty work again,” Mario added.

“I hope so.” Luigi placed a warm hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling. “Thanks, Mario.”

Mario beamed back at his brother, playfully flicking the brim of Luigi’s hat. “Come on, Lou. Show me how to build a sentient robot race kart.”

~~~~~

Drabble writing challenge: Make me sweat!

#hello there #writing #the eternal struggle #luigi #mario #writing prompts #ask meme #no i will not tell you how the contract came about i have no idea #yes i *do* actually have a story in the works about the tea incident #LET'S FUCKING WRITE YEAH #for once only minimal angst!#still rusty still getting back in writing shape #and speaking of in shape: time to try to run again after a few day layoff

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into-the-feniverse · 7 months

Text

Finished reading Trigun/TriMax a couple days ago and have been feverishly trying to piece together a timeline, so here’s the result of that ✨

EDIT: as of 3/13/24 this has been UPDATED

For a more detailed timeline (with vol/ch marks): google sheet

Full res of the graphic (& other resources): bit.l/trigunresources

Notes & rest of the timeline under the cut!

Edits as of 3/13/24

The detailed spreadsheet is organized and color coded! If you'd like a more concise breakdown of events/see some of my reasoning behind certain time stamps feel free to skim through that

Changed where in the timeline the Maylene and Wolfwood events happened (originally where I had placed them would have made Maylene like 6 when she and Wolfwood reunited which is NOT correct)

moved where in the timeline Knives started collecting the GungHo Guns (at latest he started in 0090 (20 years before 0110) since it's noted that Monev has been training in a cellar for the past 20 years

Moved where Knives initially tracked down Conrad (felt like it needed to happen at least a decade before July)

Changed up some of the months (personally, I don't think the Ark launched in December, since that'd put Milly and Meryl's arrival to the colony in July, which wouldn't make sense. So I placed the ark launch in October which of course offset some of the other month stand ins)

Added an earth year for when Knives and Vash are born. The explanation is I think at minimum there was at least a 2 year period between them and Tesla (since Rem was around for that whole process). I do think it was more than that, but that’s the earliest possible year I think it could have happened. Personally I’m more in the camp of 5-10 years, but def not 50 like in tristamp

Old Notes:

If you see any typos or phrase inconsistencies: no you don’t 💕 (😭)

Blue text can be completely ignored, that’s just kinda my personal preference/wild guesstimating of when “exactly” those events happened

Blue lines can also be ignored, they’re also just rough guesstimates on where exactly in the timeline these could have happened

The distance of the lines from one another doesn’t really mean anything, I started trying to follow a system to notate when things happened really close together but it was//// not consistently done ngl

Fun fact: by the time Wolfwood leaves the orphanage Meryl is 18! And she was 14 at the time of July’s destruction

Additional fun fact: Brad is 17 when he and sensei meet up with Vash in the Factioned city (which I think is absolutely RIDICULOUS), and we know this because he was 4 the one/last time he had met Vash and it’s been 13 years since

It was noted by Karen, one of Meryl’s coworkers, that she and Milly had been on assignment with Vash for about 4 months. (Might be that they were out searching for him during that time as well, but I’m choosing to interpret it as they were actually with him for that amount of time)

I’m also working on a 98 timeline for comparison (but more like just sequence of events cause I don’t think I have the patience to sift through the lore quite as much… mainly making it just to clarify how the anime delineates from the manga)

I am//::: feeling v unhinged after this and feel like it could be improved/i need to do a more thorough read, but I’m calling it quits for now before I actually go insane (but hopefully some people will find it somewhat helpful!)

Also: if anybody has any notes to add or clarifications/corrections I would be more than happy to hear them 👂

#resources #Trigun maximum #Trigun #trigun manga #TriMax #used my last and only braincell on this I swear #also guess I’m expanding on my blog organizing tags —>#timelines #btw this is updated!#trigun resources

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Hi jadeybabes!! Like everyone else I’m adoring the soulmate prince au and I’m wondering if we could have a peek into Steve’s thoughts and feelings about finding his soulmate after searching so long and rushing to a quick wedding even though they hardly know each other?

Like we’ve seen reader’s apprehension and insecurities mixed up with just how kind and pretty she thinks he is, and I’m wondering what’s going through Steve’s head? Love you!

hi lovely, love u ♡ prince!steve au fem, 1.2k

His private gardens are silent beyond the low hum of dragonflies zipping across the pond and the creak of his hammock. The old trees he's suspended between don't move an inch, but the netted fabric Steve lays on curls tight with every slow swing.

He can smell hyacinth where it grows at the perimeter of the bluegrass, and the fragrant cocoa of his hot chocolate steaming on the paving stones beneath him. There are a hundred beautiful things to savour out here in the evenings, but Steve can think about nothing but you. Your eyes, the timid sweet smile you give him when he's touching you. Your voice, and how you speak to him when you're alone.

Steve knows he's likely the only person fortunate enough in his entire kingdom to meet his soulmate when he desired it. Which isn't to say he didn't hold out hope when he was young, thinking one day he'd meet them, a diplomat's daughter or the child of a visiting King. He knows it was stupid to assume his soulmate would be another royal, but when you're a kid you believe what you're told.

"Well, of course she'll be educated," his mother would say, sitting two feet away at the dining table, an oyster spoon in hand. "Slight, well-mannered, quiet. You'll be king, so she'll need to be strong. She'll need to know how to take a beating."

Steve remembers thinking, Why? It's not as if I'll hit her.

It's still true, but he can guess what she meant: To be thrust into the spotlight and with little choice in the manner, you have to have a strong disposition. Steve can't not be a Prince. His soulmate can't not want to marry him. She'll need to buckle up.

He doesn't technically agree with his mother's thoughts back then, but he understands them. Steve believes you have much more choice in the manner, and he's dedicated to giving you that choice even if the wedding is being forced on you both. He wants to make this something you want too.

Sighing, Steve rakes a hand through his hair. He needs time to himself, without Robin or Munson and especially without his mother's lady's maids. Steve finds his days stolen and his time delegated, richocheting between government, education, fencing, fittings, toning, training. He can keep up. He doesn't mind. But without an hour alone every now and then, he'll explode.

He stretches out as much as the hammock allows with a frankly hideous groan. His neck and shoulders pop. What he really needs is an hour with the masseuse, Claire. Before Steve met you, he thought she was his soulmate. She has nice hands.

He hears you before he sees you, your footsteps on the pathway. He immediately sits up from the hammock with mild grace, standing in the grass with no idea where to put his hands.

He clasps them behind his back as you come into view.

"Hi, Steve," you say hesitantly.

He can't help it —he sees you and a smile splits his face. Trying not to come on too strong is out the window.

"Hi," he says. You've stopped a couple of feet away. The light of your soul mark is muted to near invisibility, tinged somewhere between pink and purple. It looks ethereal against your skin. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Uh, Robin said you'd be here. That they'd let me through."

"Only you," he says. He told them quite concisely that you're the single person permitted to interrupt his time alone.

"I can come back later."

"No, tell me what's wrong."

"It's… Why do you assume something's wrong?"

"Because you've willingly sought me out?" he asks with a well-meaning laugh.

It's the wrong thing to say. You shift from foot to foot, rubbing your palms together sheepishly. "I guess it was stupid. I'm sorry, you can, uh, you can go back to what you were doing. Sorry, Steve."

"Wait a second!" he says, though he drops his volume when you flinch. "Wait, no, don't– Don't leave, I didn't mean that you can't come and find me unless there's something wrong. I want to talk to you. Really badly. That's why I told them to let you in."

"About what?"

"About everything," he says.

You and Steve sit on one of the steps leading down to the fish pond. It's a beautiful feature with mirror clean waters and water lilies, their petals a quiet pink melding into sunshine orange. He points at it, his head inclined to yours.

"Nymphaea aurora," he murmurs. The water ripples, a darkening purple reflection of the sky as the sun sets. "They're bred for the colour specifically."

"Do you like those ones?" you ask him.

"I like all of them." He doesn't know how to explain how he feels, the dawning hope of being close to you, the magnetic tethering. "We could get different stuff if you wanted. It'll be your garden too, soon," he says, watching fondly as you draw your legs a touch closer and bend at the waist, hugging your thighs. "Are you tired?"

"Kind of, but I know you're busy tomorrow." You want to talk to him as much as he wants to talk to you. He tries hard not to feel smug.

"I'm really sorry. We shouldn't be separated right now, we should be spending the week together." It's a common phenomena. People meet their soulmates and disappear for days on end together, appearing later to beg forgiveness, cheeks aglow with joy. He wanted that with you. He wants whatever he can get.

Steve drops his voice to a whisper, bending at the waist to meet you eye to eye, "Do you want to run away with me tomorrow?"

You don't flinch, wince, or smile. Tentative, you whisper back, "You couldn't run away."

"Just for the day. We'll wear fake eyeglasses and sunhats and slip out in the morning when they change the guards. I've done it before."

"You have?"

"So many times. What do you think of that?"

"What would we do all day?" you whisper.

"Anything we want. Sneak into the opera house, eat dinner in the square from the food carts. We can finally get to know one another. Just you and me," he says softly.

Your tired smile tugs at the corners.

"Okay. Yeah, I want to go."

He reaches across the gap to stroke your cheek, a brisk, wanting line from the highest point to the skin shy of your jaw. In the evening dark, your face awash with the milky light of the appearing moon, you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

You laugh softly and turn your face away, shaking your head before sitting up altogether.

Steve sits up. "Then we'll go. But we should head to bed now, I'll have to wake you up in a few hours. They've started to expect my escape in the morning."

Steve walks you back to your room. He wants to kiss you goodnight, and there's a pause where he thinks about it before telling you goodnight. When your door closes behind you, he has to stop himself from knocking and asking if you want to leave now.

He's eager to get to know you, but you both have time.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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rileyglas · 6 months

Text

The List ~Pt. 2 - Catalyst~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: You make your way to the Hazbin Hotel and quickly realize keeping to your list and helping the sinners might be more difficult than planned.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut (it's coming, pun intended), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+, keeping these chapters shorter for easier reading

1.3k Words

Part 1 Part 2 (You're on it!) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

"Please Carmilla, I really don't think you understand what this hotel could mean for--"

Carmilla raises her hand to cut you off. "I have too much going on - to PREPARE for - to entertain this 'redemption hotel'. If you wish to leave my safety so be it but I will not waste my time on such ludicrous ideas." Her words were sharp and concise. She was right. With extermination day coming sooner than expected she had plans to make and orders to fill. After some silence she looks up from her desk, softening when she sees the slight hurt in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath she walks over to you, grabbing your shoulders with a light squeeze. “You’ve learned so much and are so much wiser beyond your years here. I know how much this ‘redemption arc’ means to you even if I don’t fully support or understand it myself.” Her grip tightened as she sighed, carefully choosing her next words. “I need you to realize that I won’t be able to help you…to protect you…if you choose to go to that hotel. Are you ready to close our deal over the slightest possibility that little Morningstar girl is right?” Carmilla would never admit that she took a liking to you. If anyone asked, you were just there out of convenience as you never gave her much hassle. This gentle warning was her way of saying she cared about you - though neither of you would ever say such things out loud. Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close.

The lump in your throat grew as you fought off the tears trying to pool in your eyes. She knew the answer already. Just the idea of a hotel to redeem sinners went hand in hand with what you did for the souls you collected. Helping lost souls? Who knew you shared the same hopes and dreams as the Princess of Hell itself.

“I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for me Ms. Carmine. I believe our deal is done.” A bright light flashes between you and Carmilla. The thin pink thread tying the two of you together by the wrist fades in, snaps, then fades out of existence. “Good luck out there…you’re going to need it Ms. ‘Saving Grace’.” Carmilla jabs. You share a small smile with each other before she sees you out of her office.

Walking up to the hotel you were a bundle of nerves. Not out of worry ok maybe a little but pure excitement, mentally rehearsing what you were going to say. “Hey you know that Saving Grace Overlord everyone is curious about? Welp that’s me and I’m here to help!” Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have. You laugh to yourself knowing damn well that isn’t the way to go. No, you’ll need to play the part of a sinner looking for redemption. But you are a sinner looking for redemption!

You shake your head at the thought. You’re here to help Lucifer’s daughter not seek your own salvation. Taking a deep breath, you make the last few strides to the font of the hotel. The window in the door was clean enough for you to catch sight of your reflection. The walk from Carmilla’s slightly disheveled your usual cleanly pressed outfit. You adjust your black button-down shirt, fixing the sleeves so they're nicely rolled to the elbow and the shirt tail is gently tucked into your slacks. Hair slicked back into a high bun - damn these fly aways, let me just ----

The front door flies open and you’re suddenly nose to nose – or rather nose to chest – with the Princess of Hell.

"Oh shit! Wasn’t expecting someone to be standing there! Hi hello -welcome!! Are you here to check in?!" she says quickly recovering from the surprise.

You spend the next few hours with Charlie on a tour. The hotel was run down but just listening to her speak so passionately made you see all the extraordinary potential. You meet the other residents - the bartender, the maid, some snake, and the...uh spider angel thing? Fuck names are hard. There was so much information flying at you, everything was blurring together. With this being your new home you were sure to get a better understanding of who's who and names. Nothing to worry yourself with tonight.

Charlie and her girlfriend - Valley? No, Maggie? - lead you to your room. "And here is your new hopefully temporary home! Let us know if you need anything." Charlie wraps you into a hug that knocks the breath out of you. "Thanks so much" is about all you can get out as you try to regain the air you lost. You place your hand on the doorknob when a high pitch ringing and static hit your ears. Freezing in place you try to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. Something (or someone) has materialized behind you with a familiar voice booming through the hall -

"Ahhh a new resident. Apologies I wasn't available for the initial introductions. The name’s Alastor, quite the pleasure!"

In turning abruptly to face the demon you not so gracefully fall against your door. Jesus H Christ – Get your shit together!

"No need to be so jumpy here my dear. This hotel is protected QUITE well if I do say so myself. You don't have to worry about any dangerous sinners here." There’s that unhinged smile. It registers that this is the same charming Overlord who tried to stare into your soul from the last meeting. Ironic how such ominous creature is trying to convince you of safety.

Does he recognize me? He has such a way of looking right into my --- “Ah yes...sorry! Bad habit from being in the streets for so long. Nice to meet you, Alastor. I'm [Y/N]. Are you also here for redemption?" You already knew the answer but best to play stupid. No use in stirring suspicion less than a day into your stay.

"Oh my no. I'm just here for my own amusement and to help Charlie as needed." He hummed shifting his (is that a microphone?) cane from one hand to the other. The static continued in your ears as his half-lidded eyes studied your face. You were far from intimidated, but it was clear he was hiding more power than you initially thought.

"Well, that's very kind of you and it has been such a delight, but it is getting late. I will see you around Mr. Alastor." The sooner this transaction is over, the better. His eyes were starting to bore into you as if he was trying to find any possible flaw he could prey on.

He breaks his gaze to lean into your ear, lips practically grazing your skin. His ever so subtle cologne floods your senses, making little butterflies form in your stomach. Of course such a devious man would be so enticing. Trying not to flinch, you hold your ground. You feared no one or so you told yourself. Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show.

“Yes, you will be seeing quite a bit of me my dear. And please....just Alastor……for now." he purred into your ear before melting into a shadow - gone as quickly as he appeared. A cool breeze taking over where his hot breath was.

You finally released the air you didn’t realize you were holding in as the static faded from your ears. Quickly getting inside your room you melt to your knees as your head whirls. What the fuck was that about? Was I ATTRACTED to that? Six years in hell and a DEMON OVERLORD makes me weak? That cannot happen again.

Things may be a lot harder than expected with Alastor making his mark on the hotel, but you’re not going to let him stop you. Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord.

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel fandom #hotel hazbin #x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #reader insert #fem reader #slow burn

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pimosworld · 18 days

Text

Only if you catch me

Pairing- Frankie Morales × flreader

Chapter Summary- You and Frankie have your second date and things get tense for both of you after Benny’s fight.

Chapter Warning- 18+, MDNI, Smut, mentions of addiction, angst, fluff, kissing, sexual tension, flirting, fingering, hint of exhibitionism, protective reader, unprotected piv, soft dom Frankie. (No longer a slow burn)

WC-9.6k

A/N- I’m officially obsessed with these two, cue the Frankie Friday show because he certainly puts on one this chapter.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 3. Flash

Casual, 7 pm.

A pattern you recognized with Frankie that he didn’t offer many details when it came to your dates so far. Maybe it was the military in him that kept things concise and to the point. Or it could be that he likes surprises, craves spontaneity to keep things exciting.

You hope he knows that it doesn’t always have to be like this. With him you could be doing absolutely nothing and still have an amazing time.

It was starting to scare you how much your sleeping and waking thoughts were consumed by Frankie. His good morning calls or texts. His sweet messages throughout the day. The way he didn’t mind you falling asleep at night while you were on the phone only to wake up and hear him snoring on the other end.

You had some boring shoot for a law firm in the middle of the week. Not your favorite gigs but it paid the bills. One of those sleazy law firms that would take anyone’s money, their faces plastered on every bus and billboard they could get their hands on. This was not an aesthetic shot-but you respected yourself more than that to phone it in.

Of course these men could care less that you were trying to do the job they paid you for and instead insisted on wasting your time but trying to flirt with you in between shots. Literally and figuratively speaking, you would have to do your best to hide the blood shot eyes as they sipped on cheap whiskey in fancy glasses. You finished the job and hastily wrapped it up to say your goodbyes as you made your way out to the parking lot when you noticed one of the lawyers following you. Afraid you’d left something important you waited for him to approach your car but to your dismay with the liquor flowing through his veins you could see he wanted nothing more than to ruin your day. He leaned on your car, his eyes half lidded slurring something about calling you. The pungent smell of his breath taking you to a place you didn’t want to think about.

You had texted Frankie the location of the law firm and just like a knight in shining armor you hear his truck roar into the parking lot.

A look you’re certain would make your worst enemy shit their pants was on his face when he hopped out the drivers side and made his way around to you both.

“Just in time to take you to lunch.” His voice is so sweet to you as he leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Francisco Morales.” He grits out as he takes the man’s hand.

“Walters…John Walters.”He grimaces under his intense grip and you have to hide your smile behind your hand.

Frankie releases his grip not wanting to touch him any longer. He can smell the alcohol coming out of his pores and it makes his skin crawl. He turns to you not wanting to waste another moment and hoping this guy gets the hint and takes a hike.

“You okay baby?” His thumb grazes your cheek where his lips just were and you swallow thick.

“I am now.”

Nothing happened and really you were fine, but the look in his eyes is so sincere that you wonder what happened to make him this way.

“Come on, let’s get you some lunch and then I’ll follow you home.” The switch has your head spinning as he guides you into the passenger seat.

And he does just that.

You have a quick lunch and he takes you home, ever the gentleman. Right now you were wishing he would lay off the routine and be a little bolder. Your pace. You asked for this and he’s respecting your wishes.

****

6:55 pm

There’s a light knock on your door and you have to slow down to not seem like you were waiting next to it. Your heart thumps hard in your chest when you open it and see him standing there.

His wet curls poking out under his cap. The long line of his neck and the way his tee shirt hugs all the right places. The worn, faded jeans sitting low on his hips and the small gold belt buckle just barely showing.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t gauge. His hands fidget at his side as he hovers in the doorway. He looks a little flustered as he takes you in.

You somehow make casual look like the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. The cotton black dress that hits mid thigh, your light oversized denim shirt hanging just a little lower than the dress. That familiar smell of something that you’re always shrouded in that leaves him feeling at home. The way you cling to his clothes long after he’s gone from you.

Your soft hand taking his to lead him inside and this is dangerous territory when he’s trying to go at your pace. The way he instinctively pulls you into him as your other hand wraps around his neck and pulls him into a kiss that lasts almost too long to call it a hello.

You drop your bag as he backs you up against the couch and you can feel the hard press in his jeans at the thought of you. The way his hands grip your waist like you’re going to vanish into thin air.

It would be so easy to let him take you down your hall into your bedroom and let him bring down those walls you’ve built up over the last year. As he pulls away with a groan when you take his bottom lip between your teeth you know you’re being unfair.

Because he’s being a gentleman and you’re being a tease.

But the build up is the best part. The anticipation of waiting and waiting for the right moment.

“Hi.” It’s the innocent way you say it, like you didn’t almost just have him committing several sins.

He takes off his cap, his cheeks flushed and his face distressed as he runs his fingers deliriously through his hair. “Hi.” He huffs out. “I missed you.”

I missed you so much it scares me.

“Me too.”

The most simple task is daunting because I can’t focus on anything else.

You can tell now that normal introductions are in the past. Gone are the days where you can give him a brief hug or a kiss on the cheek.

Frankie knows if he doesn’t get a grip he runs the risk of making you his new high. You deserve much better than that. You’re not a quick fix or an impulsive decision. You are the only person that makes him feel good. Good in a way that he’s never felt.

“You ready for our second date?” He smiles at the way you can’t meet his eyes when he mentions it.

“Of course. Where are we going?” He fits your hand in his as he leads you to the door.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

****

His hand has found a home in what you’ve coined his normal spot on your thigh. The innocent reassuring gesture of his thumb grazing back and forth is making goosebumps rise on your skin.

Your eyes follow the trail of his hand, the thick veins on his arm up the path to his large biceps. He stretches his neck and you watch his throat bob when he swallows and you want to trace your tongue alongside it.

Fuck. You need a distraction, anything besides looking at his gorgeous face.

You try to focus on the road, the trees passing you by. The town in the rearview as you approach the outskirts and you glance back into the cab of his truck to see a pile of-

“Eyes forward missy.” He fixes you with a look and then averts his gaze back to the road. Something about the command in his tone is not making your situation any better. “Don’t want you to ruin the surprise.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I’m gonna start calling you Mr. Surprise.”

“You can call me Mr. Morales if you’d like.” His voice dropping to an octave you almost don’t register.

You raise your eyebrows at that. Taking his hand off your thigh to kiss his palm. Feeling his pulse thrum against your lips when you trail a little higher. Your teeth graze his vein and you hear a low growl emit from his chest.

It seems you’ve decided to pick up your pace a little and Frankie isn’t going to stop whatever this is. The energy in his truck has changed to something feverish. The feel of your soft lips on his arm and his hairs stand up as you graze your teeth along his pulse point.

“You’re playing a dangerous game baby.” No real sense of seriousness in his tone.

You drop his hand and place it a little higher than its original position and he squeezes. Not missing the way your legs adjust to let him in.

“Too dangerous?”

He just shakes his head. “Lucky for you I can handle heavy machinery under pressure.” His eyes back on the road as to not watch where it’s disappearing under your dress.

But thankful or not so when he hears your breath catch in your throat at the sight of reaching the destination.

Your excited squeals as the large screens come into view and his chest swells with pride because he’s planned yet another successful surprise for you.

****

He had to contain himself for now.

He’s excited to get the date underway as you sit in the cab of the truck waiting patiently for him to set up the pillows and blankets in the bed. He found the perfect spot in the middle-back, just enough privacy to have you all to himself.

You haven’t been to the drive-ins in ages. Not since you were a teenager, hormones raging and nervousness thrumming deep in your bones. Not much different than tonight except your date is exceedingly more handsome and capable than the brace faced junior that spent so long trying to unclasp your bra that you both gave up and sat in silence for the remainder of fast and the furious.

A veteran pilot that’s maneuvered in live fire and the likes will undeniably have more practiced hands when it comes to you.

You gently work open the truck slider window to observe his meticulous set up for the night. He lays out a navy blue fleece blanket that looks so velvety. Next he spreads a large knitted throw in a burnt orange shade. He places a few oversized pillows with flannel covers along the back and tucks a few into the sides.

Frankie’s attention to detail was so evident as he fluffs each pillow and smooths out the blankets, despite knowing you were going to mess them up once you laid out. Finally he sets out a few decorative throw pillows at the bed of the truck. He claps his hands, sitting back on his haunches signaling he’s done.

He catches your eyes when he hears you laugh at his scrupulous preparation.

“I told you no peeking.” He points at you as he crawls toward the open window.

You shrug as you bite your bottom lip. “I didn’t have anything to look at.”

He shifts his hat to the back and before you have time to process what that does to you he’s kissing you. You lean into it to meet him as his broad shoulders push against the frame. He pulls away all too soon leaving you a little breathless.

“So, what do you think?” You sense some sad apprehension in his eyes that you want to wipe away.

He watches your eyes roam over him, stopping somewhere near his throat. “I think I want to join you on the other side of this window.”

****

Outside the sky is deepening into twilight, you’re nestled under the blankets with Frankie. His sturdy legs bracketing you in as you lean against his chest. The calmness of his breathing lulling you into some waking daydream.

“Do I get to know what we’re seeing?” Your head back in time to see the dimple creasing his face.

“Have you not learned by now hermosa?” Sarcasm dripping from his tone.

You huff out in frustration, fixing your eyes to the blank white screen. “Surprises, surprises.”

His laugh moves you quite literally and figuratively.

He cranes his neck at the sound of crunching gravel and a young man probably high school age approaches with a tray of food. He adjusts to take the tray from him as he sends you a nervous smile. Frankie hands him a wad of cash and the boy's eyes go wide as saucers as he goes to protest and Frankie just tells him to keep it.

He glances into the truck bed and shakes his head in disbelief. “Thanks sir, I really appreciate this.” He holds the tip up before depositing it into his front pocket.

“That was very kind of you Frankie.” You say sincerely as you turn to face him.

He blushes as he lays out the tray of hotdogs and popcorn. “I was young once….I remember needing some extra money to help my family.” He doesn’t finish his thought and you let the moment pass between you in understanding, not wanting to delve deeper into that part of yourselves yet.

As you both eat in contented silence the familiar crackle of the speakers sound from the cab of the truck. The screen flickers to life showing a sun soaked beach as the waves crash against the rocks. Danny and Sandy walk hand in hand and you pause mid bite as the opening chords of ‘summer nights’ start to play.

“No way.” You exclaim softly as a delighted grin speaks across your face. “I love Grease.”

Frankie’s watching you closely. “I thought you’d like that.” His tone filled with a quiet satisfaction.

“It’s like we’re having our own little grease moment.”

He hums as he sets the trays out of the way and pulls you back into his embrace. “I guess you could say that. Just missing a convertible and our own summer romance soundtrack.”

You laugh and someone shushes you nearby causing you both to chuckle before he presses a kiss to your temple. He mumbles something unintelligible but along the lines of ‘behave’ and his tone has you wanting to do anything but.

You manage to settle down and watch the movie, Frankie loves when you sing along as you sway in his arms. If he had known he would have to wait a lifetime to have this with you he’d wait a thousand. All the bullshit and failed relationships somehow has led him here. He knows he’s starting to sound like his therapist but doesn’t that mean the shit is actually doing what it’s supposed to?

The drive in scene comes on and you groan slightly as you tilt your head back. The screen illuminates him just enough for you to see the smirk on his face.

“This is so cliche.”

“I know, it’s almost as if I planned it this way.” You squirm a little in his hold as he grips you tighter. You’ve inadvertently been grinding against him this entire movie and he’s been doing his best to be a gentleman. “I promise not to pull a fast one on you like our boy Danny.” He nods at the screen just as Sandy jumps out of the car and slams the door.

You can feel the hard press of his cock straining on his jeans against your back. You’ve been quite the tease this whole time hoping he’d take a hint but he’s letting you take the lead. “What if I wanted you to?”

You think for a moment that maybe he didn’t hear you and you can just avoid the embarrassment of having to repeat yourself. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your back as his grip on you tightens. The way the scruff of his beard hair barely brushes your cheek as he leans close to your ear.

“Hermosa?” He lets out a deep exhale against your skin. “I need you to show me…exactly what it is…that you want me to do.”

You tentatively grab his hand and he releases the hold he has on your hip to let you guide him. It starts just above your stomach. He sucks in a breath as you slide it further over the soft lace of your panties.

You stop there. Your eyes fixated on the screen but you aren’t watching the movie. He nuzzles the back of your neck as he whispers in your ear. “You want me to touch you here?” His fingers tap once and it sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

He doesn’t miss the way you say ‘please’ breathlessly as he watches your chest rise and fall.

His hand is hot, the heat seeps through the thin material making the wetness of your arousal known to both of you.

He swiftly moves your panties to the side, his calloused fingers making you shiver as he runs a single digit up and down your slit.

You bite back the moan trying to escape your throat. He shushes you gently as he adjusts to lower you both out of prying eyes. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for me hermosa. Do you think you can do that for me?”

You manage a nod as his fingers dip in before briefly pulling them back. He presses his thumb against your clit and your hips buck up as he continues his ministrations. You can feel the low rumble in his chest when you let out a squeak. His breathing is coming out in puffs and small grunts as his fingers slide in and out of you.

You can feel how hard he is as he grinds against the curve of your ass, each thrust and twist bringing a new wave of arousal. “Jesus Christ you’re soaking my hand baby.”

You don’t know how he does it but his expert hands are bringing you to the edge so fast you can’t keep up with your thoughts.

You nearly bite your tongue to keep in the whine as you pant his name. You turn into him as he presses his lips against yours, he’s sweet and slightly salty from the lingering taste of the buttery popcorn.

He can tell you’re close as you tense up and your back bows when he presses down hard on your clit and swirls. The pleasure is overwhelming and he growls as you bite down on his lip, your pussy clenching tight as you gush around his fingers.

He swallows the moans of his name, ghosted across his lips as you come down from your high. “You did so good.” He kisses and sucks along your jawline as you literally come down from the stars. His mouth works down the column of your neck and you can feel the prickle of his beard and the sting of his teeth against your skin.

“Frankie that was…” you take a moment to catch your breath. You’re boneless as you dro

You can hear him sucking his fingers and the sound makes you throb. “Fucking tastes like heaven.”

This man is gonna be the death of you.

He reaches up to cup your chin. You can barely make out his features with your vision still clouded. There's a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

He kisses you again as he pulls the blankets up a little higher and fluffs the pillows around you.

The juxtaposition has your head spinning as he turns your attention back to the screen. (Scene in the movie.)

“Is that what you had in mind?” He says, pulling you back into his chest.

You chuckle as you reach between your bodies. “Something like that.” He grabs your wrist gently to stop you.

“But.”

“No need.” He cuts you off with a kiss.

You shift in his hold to look at him as he looks down at you apprehensively. “Francisco, no you did not!”

“Oh yes, I did.” You snort as he squeezes your ass in his palm. “That’s a problem for future me. Now hush and watch the rest of the movie.”

You feel his heartbeat against you. The warmth of his breath against your neck.

He presses a kiss to your temple when you’re asleep just as the credits roll.

****

You wake up with the sound of the car door closing and a cool breeze on your face. It takes you a moment to register as you watch Frankie round the front of the truck.

“Hello sleepyhead.” He looks at you fondly as he helps you down from the seat. He looks up and down the street, always assessing his surroundings.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

He pulls you into him. “I’m not, you look really cute when you’re sleeping. Also when you’re snoring.”

You gasp as you try to wriggle free from his hold. “I do not snore.”

You can feel the rumble of his laughter as you rest your head on his chest. You really want to ask him to stay but you’re not sure where his head is at.

“Do-“

“I-“

You laugh as he clears his throat. “I had a nice time tonight.” He holds his hands out palms up as you place yours in his. “You don’t have to say anything, we can still take this slow.”

You certainly weren’t taking things slow at the drive ins but you don’t want to pressure him either.

“Okay.” If he senses the disappointment in your tone he says nothing as he starts to lead you toward your apartment.

Frankie steals a quick glance at your legs peeking out under your dress as you climb the stairs. He’s still in a state of shock that things got as far as they did. He doesn’t want to spook you so he’ll go home happy with whatever you’re willing to give him.

“Frankie, you’re awfully quiet back there.” You tease as you throw a look to him over your shoulder.

“I’m just committing you to memory.” That soft smirk on his face and the adorable dimple in his cheek.

He crowds your space as you fumble with your keys but you don’t seem to mind as he presses himself into you. Inhaling your scent like you’re going to evaporate into thin air.

You turn in his arms, his lips insistent on yours as he murmurs goodbyes against them. You’re finding it incredibly hard to keep your composure around Francisco Morales.

“So, tomorrow Ben has another fight.” He states as he pulls back.

“Oh I know he invited me again. This time as a guest, no need for pictures.”

He plants another kiss on your cheek. “Good, I’ll pick you up at 7.” He opens your door, inspecting the entryway for surprise intruders and you can’t help but laugh at his authoritative nature.

“Good night Francisco.” You wave him off as he throws one more glance at you and descends your stairs.

****

True to his word Frankie was ready to pick you up sharply at 7 with his charming smile. This was technically your third date and you were determined to ask Frankie to stay over after Ben’s match. You both seemed to buzz with a nervous excitement all night. You relished in the way his hands never left you all night.

His hand on your knee on the drive over. His arm wrapped around you when you arrived at the gym, the protective way he pulls you into him when someone glances at you. You find Santiago immediately ringside and he pulls you both into a tight hug. You don’t miss the way he eyes Frankie’s hand in yours and winks at him earning him a small shove.

Amber sends you an excited wave across the ring with Will and you can’t wait to catch up with her after. You don’t want to get too ahead of yourself but it feels nice to be a part of such a tight knit group of friends.

“Are you nervous?” Frankie leans in close to your ear and you nod against the scruff of his beard. “I know it’s a lot but Ben is something else when he’s in the ring.”

“Plus it never lasts long enough for him to sustain any real damage.” Santiago chimes in from beside Frankie.

The whistles and cheers start as the men enter the ring. Benny bouncing up and down with his arms raised in the air, those signature blue eyes piercing into his opponent. The man is a little shorter than him but looks to have some weight on him. You can see Will and the guys exchange nervous glances to each other and you’re hoping you’re not about to witness Benny’s first loss.

The ref signals the start of the fight and the men dance around each other briefly before Ben takes a hard hit to the ribs, you wince noticing his pain but he quickly recovers as the opponent leans too far into his reach. Benny lands a swift blow to his right eye and it’s almost instantaneous the way it swells up and the man stumbles back.

You turn slightly in Frankie’s hold half way looking at the fight and halfway watching the muscles in his jaw work as they tense up in anticipation of each hit. His hands rub up and down your arms to comfort you as he keeps his eyes trained on the fight. Santiago notices you’re not quite watching so he starts offering his charming commentary to let you know Ben is winning, with your complete lack of knowledge in the sport it’s thoughtful of him. Plus you can tell he just loves the sound of his own voice.

Frankie spins you around to face the ring while Ben stands albeit exhausted but mostly unscathed next to the referee. The other man is knelt over in his corner and you can’t focus on what used to resemble a face for too long. Red and purple bruises are forming already and the coach looks more disgusted at his own fighter than he does at Ben.

“I think they’re gonna call it.” Santi leans in and nudges you while he watches on.

You glance back at Frankie with a bemused look on your face. “And that means….”

Both men just laugh as the ref raises Ben’s arm in triumph and the crowd erupts in a roar of cheers.

“It’s a technical knockout. They usually call this when they’re concerned about the other fighter's safety.” Frankie yells over the noise of the crowd.

You just hum to yourself and send one more glance to the poor man. “That’s definitely for the best.” You reach down and rifle around in your bag before your hands land on your prized possession.

You promptly start taking photos of Ben as he runs around the ring, sweat and grime rolling off his body as he cheers victorious. Frankie eyes you suspiciously as Santiago looks on in delight.

“You’re supposed to be taking the night off.”

“I am.” Ben bounds over to you with his signature pose, wide grin on his face and you snap a photo. “This is for fun.”

“Flash can’t resist taking photos of my beautiful face.” He teases as he leans over the ropes.

“Flash?”

Frankie groans and scrubs his hands down his face.

“It’s your nickname sweetheart, everyone gets one when they’re part of the crew.” Ben tips his head to your camera. “You’re either flashing that thing at me or your gorgeous smile.” He winks at you as a hearty laugh echoes from Santiago.

Frankie points at him and arches a disapproving brow. “I’m gonna need you to quit flirting with my girlfriend.”

“Can’t hear you!” Ben jumps over the ropes and heads towards the lockers with Santiago in tow.

The nickname, Santiago being so nice to you, the admission that you’re part of the crew. Now Frankie is just casually calling you his girlfriend. You’re trying to contain your emotions but it’s mind blowing how fast this is all happening.

Amber and Will join you on the other side as the rest of the crowd starts to disperse. Will eyes Frankie and they walk off to the side as Amber pulls you into a heartfelt hug. She smells like Lemon and Jasmine and you can’t help but wonder if it’s her hair or just her natural scent.

“I hope this doesn’t come off weird but you smell really good.”

She laughs and waves you off. “Not weird at all hon’. I’m glad you said something.” She leans in close, glancing over at Will and Frankie before she continues. “I’ve been running a little experiment the last few weeks, testing different perfumes for the wedding. So far this one has received the most compliments.”

You remember Will mentioning they were engaged but you don’t really have many details about how soon they were planning on tying the knot.

“If I’m being honest.” She bites her lip and mumbles. “We were almost late because of this perfume.”

You try to school your face as she laughs at your obvious awkwardness and you can’t help but join in, delighted in how comfortable she already is with you.

“What are you ladies over here giggling about?” Of course Will chimes in while Frankie trails behind with a mischievous look on his face.

She shrugs as your eyes flick to hers and you both burst into a fit of laughter. You’ll just have to let them wonder as Frankie comes up behind you leaning down to your ear. “We’re going to celebrate, if you don’t want to come-“

“Of course I do!” You exclaim and your excitement catches him off guard a little.

He plants a soft kiss on your cheek and you can hear the teasing from Ben as he reappears freshly changed from the locker rooms.

Amber bumps your hip and takes your hand in hers as you all make your way toward the exit. “I’m glad you’re coming. We have lots to talk about.”

****

Frankie could tell you were nervous on the way to the bar, your fingers tapping gently against the worn leather seats in his truck. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss to your palm to let you know it would be alright and that he would be right by your side. He had to get used to being in this sort of environment early on in his sobriety. The guys had already sacrificed so much for him and he didn’t want them to give up their regular hang out just because he needed to get his shit together. Despite him knowing they would do anything for him, he adjusted fairly easily. The booze never did him any good and only served as a gateway for his other addictions.

If you were being honest you didn’t expect much of a place called Bar None going in. The neon sign flickered outside casting a warm, welcome glow. Amber takes your hand leading you away from the main bar to head towards their usual spot they’ve claimed as their own. You’re greeted by the comforting, familiar aroma of old wood and faint hints of spilled beer. Not all your memories of alcohol reminded you of your mom thankfully. The distinct smell of beer brought back fond memories of lazy sundays with your dad while you sat and watched football.

The room is a tapestry of rich, deep hues-cherry red bar stools and polished mahogany tables glimmer under the vintage hanging lanterns. As you both settle into the booth you can’t help but feel this odd sense of nostalgia. The space feels like a perfect sanctuary from the outside world.

“Better than you expected?” Her voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and you nod in approval.

The bar is bustling tonight with patrons in various states of disarray. Couples on the makeshift dance floor, others deep in boisterous conversations. And Frankie, looking effortlessly handsome as he approaches with a Diet Coke and a glass of ice balanced precariously in one hand and Amber’s drink in the other. He slides into the booth beside you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “I hope this is fine.” His voice a soft rumble that you can’t help but smile at as he cracks the can and pours it into the glass.

“Of course it is.”

“I’ll be over at the pool table with the guys. Call me if you need anything.” He gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze as he slides out of the booth.

You catch Amber’s eye as she raises an eyebrow suggestively, but you’re too engrossed in Frankie’s retreating form, his shirt pulled tight against his back and his jeans hug low on his hips.

“You know.” You start, taking a sip of your cold beverage. “I often wonder how that man is single.”

She laughs as she takes a sip of her drink, her gaze flitting briefly to the guys all taking turns shoving Benny, as if he wasn’t just beat up enough. “I used to wonder the same thing about Will.” A brief pause before she focuses her attention on you. “It takes a special kind of person to handle all of their baggage. It was hard at first but, in the end it all worked out.”

She’s considering you at the moment, how much do you really know? To be fair everything is so new that you expect you know as much as you should. You haven’t really divulged too much into your private life yet, both of you wanting to keep things light and fun. You can tell by the way she’s surveying you that it’s a conscious effort to not overstep her boundaries when it comes to Frankie and his personal life. There’s no bit of jealousy or envy when it comes to the fact that she was simply around when their lives were harder and you may not have been offered this opportunity with Frankie if you’d met him any sooner than you did.

“How do you think things are going?” She asks with an inquisitive tone.

“Honestly.” You sigh and she nods awaiting your reply. “Don’t make fun of me, but I think it’s going in the right direction. He’s so genuine, and even when we hang out like this, it feels…right.”

She takes your hand in hers that you didn’t even realize you were tapping against the table. “ It felt like that when I met Will, so I’m really happy for you…for both of you.”

Just then Will eyes her from across the bar and calls his shot, sending the guys into a fit of laughter when he misses by a mile. You turn to her and she’s already looking at you apprehensively when she clears her throat. “ Speaking of Will and I.” Her voice taking on an uncharacteristic nervous tone. “ You can say no if you want, I’ve been dragging my feet on all this wedding stuff. I know it’s a few months away.” Her hands are sweating and she’s taken on a shade of pale you don’t recognize. “ Frankie told me it would be fine, but I know you’re probably really busy with other things.”

“Amber, spit it out.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“Will you be the photographer for our wedding?” It’s all rushed out and she’s most certainly holding her breath as you let out an excited squeal that has most of this side of the bar sending concerned looks.

“Of course, of course.” You embrace her in an awkward hug squeezed into the booth. “ What made you think I would say no?”

She lets out a deep sigh as she relaxes back into the booth sending Will a thumbs up. “ I didn’t want to put too much pressure on you and the Frankie situation.” She says honestly.

“Well, he called me his girlfriend earlier so I think it’s definitely more than a situation.”

Now it was her turn to shriek and you both send apologetic looks over to the pool table.

“You girls are having too much fun over there, I should join you.” Ben’s voice booms across the bar and he flashes that bright smile, he starts to make his way over but is swiftly pulled back by Frankie and Will.

It’s nice to see Frankie laughing and enjoying time with his friends, you and Amber watch them fondly for a few moments while she provides silent commentary about what she thinks is going on.

“Santiago is likely making some bet that he knows he’ll win.”

You laugh as you both watch him animatedly pointing at Frankie with the pool stick.

“Ben’s probably making fun of his height at this point because that’s all he has.”

Ben pats Santi on the head eliciting a small scuffle between the two before Frankie inevitably breaks it up.

It’s so interesting how she has all the inner workings of the group down to a tee and even so she can still see the way Frankie can’t keep his eyes off you. It makes your face warm when he finds your eyes across the room, assessing you to make sure you’re still comfortable.

Frankie’s so focused on you he doesn’t notice the woman approaching the pool table. She’s about Frankie’s height, long brunette hair and an athletic build. The guys all give her tentative hugs before Frankie’s attention is turned away from you. You notice how he freezes, his shoulders tense and Amber’s narration has long stopped.

“Shit.” She curses under her breath and you look at her and notice her wide-eyed stare. Cautiously gauging the situation unfolding in front of her.

“Amber.” You place your hand on her arm to grab her attention. “Who’s that?”

****

“Marissa.” Frankie says through gritted teeth as the guys all slink away to the table. “Funny seeing you here.”

Will sends him one last look to make sure he’s good and Frankie waves him off. He just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“What’s so funny about me being here? It’s a public place Fish.” The sarcasm drips from her tone as she steps closer to him. He can smell the liquor on her breath and it makes his stomach turn. She’s got a glossy stare that lets on she’s done more than drink tonight. “I used to be a part of this remember.”

“You’ve been drinking.” He avoids her mention of their past.

“Oh, Francisco’s on his high horse now that he’s sober.” She mocks him and he can feel the anger bubbling under the surface. The way she clutches her chest and the lipstick smeared across her teeth. This isn’t the woman he used to love, the woman that the guys could count on to have their six.

“You’ve been doing a lot more than drinking, I can tell that much.” She scoffs and looks away, rolling one of the balls into a hole with her hand. She’s got dirt under her fingernails and she’s definitely lost some weight. “Listen….I know we’re not together anymore but I care about you. I think you should start going to meetings ag-“

“Don’t you fucking do that Frankie.” Her finger in his face as she spits out her insults. “I wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you and my so called friends.”

“Goddamit Marissa!” Frankie rips his cap off, blowing out through his nose. He feels like he could breathe fire. “I don’t do this anymore. I don’t have outbursts or feel like my skin is crawling. I don’t have panic attacks or spend my last dime on a bag of coke.” He punctuates each point with his finger on the pool table beside him.

She rolls her eyes and clicks her teeth. “Oh we know you’ve got more than a few dimes to spend now.”

“Don’t.”

She holds her hands up in surrender. Doing her best to look like a petulant child. That used to work on him but now it just makes his gut churn. “Frankie, honey. I’ll go to meetings if you go with me.”

Her hand settles on top of his and he’s frozen to the spot. He feels like a bucket of water has been dumped on his head. Her clammy hand on top of his and all he can do is stare.

There’s a firm pressure on his back, it starts slowly creeping up his spine until it settles on the back of his neck. It’s soft and grounding like he’s being consumed by the warmth of the sun. He lets out a deep breath as the nails scratch his scalp sending shivers through his body. He can smell the lavender and vanilla and the way it’s Pavlovian to react to the comforting scent that is you.

“Frankie.”

He looks a little like a wild animal when his eyes meet yours, they soften a bit at your touch and you could care less at how the woman is feeling.

“Are you okay?”

He does his best to convey that he’s fine now that you’re here. His lips find yours and he prys his hand away from the one that’s trying to claw its way back into his life.

You turn your attention to the woman, her lips in a tight line and her eyebrows raised as if she’s being inconvenienced by your presence. You assess her for a second, you want to make her squirm. Make her feel as uncomfortable as Frankie looks, and it seems she’s waiting for you to introduce yourself.

Amber gave you a quick rundown when she noticed her from across the bar. When the guys retreated and exchanged glances as the conversation started to get heated Benny offered to break it up. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as you exited the booth and told him you’d handle it. A tinge of jealousy and disgust gave you the boost of confidence you needed to confront the situation. Something totally out of your norm but the way the guys looked at you with a sense of pride made you put one foot in front of the other to save your boyfriend from the demons in his past.

She clears her throat. “Hi I’m Marissa, Frankie’s-“

“Ex.” You cut her off with a pleased smile as she looks a little wide eyed.

You can feel Frankie’s eyes on you but you keep your attention on her.��

Her extended hand to shake yours hangs awkwardly between you. “So, he’s mentioned me then?” Her arms cross as she leans against the table and Frankie huffs a laugh next to you.

“No actually he hasn’t.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were prepared to say to her when you approached until you saw her hand on top of his and now it’s as if the words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I could just tell by the way you felt so comfortable scolding him in a public place.” You gesture to the bar and notice a few eyes on you and the boys watching you from afar. Amber has the most delighted look on her face. “Also by the way you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself I figured there was some history there.”

She tries and fails to school her stunned expression at your boldness, unwilling to back down and dare you say stake your claim.

“You know…I didn’t get your name.” She says and your reply is cut short when Frankie laces his fingers with yours.

“You won’t.” His voice drops dangerously low as he pulls you away from her. “Take care of yourself Marissa.” He means it and telling her it was nice to see her would have been a lie. One last glance over his shoulder and she’s already turned on her heel storming off to the bar.

The guys are quiet when you return, likely waiting for you to tell them what the hell happened, Amber sitting next to Will nervously tapping her fingers on the table.

For your sake Frankie doesn’t let you flounder when he tells them you guys are leaving.

They say their goodbyes and Amber tells you to call her to set up details about the wedding. Frankie looks down at you and relaxes a little. You’re practically beaming at the prospect and he hopes he didn’t completely ruin the night.

****

He’s eerily quiet as he drives to your apartment. Both hands on the wheel, no hand on your thigh.

He’s rattled, a deep scowl on his face as he stares at the lights ahead. You want nothing more than to brush your hand across it, tell him that everything is okay. He lets out a deep sigh every so often and for the first time you see this sad side of him, the side that he keeps locked away and you hope that he’d feel comfortable enough to let you in.

You want to ask him if he’s okay.

You want to tell him that you’d likely respond the same if you ran into your ex. Possibly run for the hills.

It feels weird in the silence of the car and you can only think to reach over and place your hand on his thigh. He tenses at first and glances down briefly, a small gesture that seems even greater to him when he looks over to see you just looking out the window. Knowing it would be too much to look you in the eyes.

He finally releases his white knuckle grip on the wheel to place his hand on top of yours, a quick squeeze to say ‘thank you’.

When your fingers lace with his he knows that everything is fine…he can finally take a full breath.

****

You can feel the apology on the tip of his tongue as he walks you to your doorstep. You can see it in the way he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair. A nervous tell early on, even when he looks at you with those deep brown eyes.

A deep intake of breath from you both before you place your fingers gently on his lips, his eyes wide in surprise but you’re still feeling bold from the encounter at the bar.

“Frankie, you have three options.” He cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

“If you’re not feeling up to talking, we can end the night here. I go inside alone. You go home alone.”

“I’m gonna say no to that option before I hear the rest.” He murmurs against your fingers still placed on his lips and you can’t help but laugh. A glimpse of your Frankie peeking through the cloud Marissa shrouded over the night.

“Option two…you can come inside and we can talk about what just happened. Only if you want.” You didn’t want to automatically assume that he did or did not want to talk about running into his ex and the conversation they had.

He shakes his head, taking a step toward you backing you up against your front door. “Behind door number three?”

“We can go inside…and do something else.” Your voice comes out a little shaky at his close proximity.

His dark eyes drinking you in as he leans down close to your ear. “You gonna tell me what something else means?”

“It means whatever you want.” You practically purr at him. If you were more attentive you’d see the switch.

His hands find your hips, turning you to face your door. “Are you sure you want me to have that much control baby?”

You nod as a slow building desire starts in your core and he doesn’t miss the way you fidget. Rocking slightly to relieve the ache between your thighs.

“I need words hermosa.” His tone demanding the more worked up he’s getting.

The pet names only serving the fan the flames from the previous night. A soft breathy ‘yes’ leaves your lips and before you can wonder how he knows which one he’s taking your keys and unlocking your door. His chest pressed against you walking you inside.

The door slams as Frankie shoves you against it, you can feel how hard he is pressing into your thigh. Your hands slide under his shirt and your mouth is on his neck.

He grabs your wrists in both hands as he tsks under his tongue. Slowly lowering them to your sides with a look on his face of your first and only warning.

He rids you of your shirt and his deft hands make quick work of the button on your jeans as he pulls them down along with your panties. Dropping to his knees along with them as he gently guides you out of them.

You’re shivering at the thought of him being so close, his face level with the slick dripping out of you as he picks up your thigh settling it over his shoulder.

“Fuck, you are soaking wet.” You gasp as his tongue slips through your folds. You moan as he circles your clit and the growl that reverberates through your core when you knock his hat to tug on his hair.

He’s practiced

His tongue dips inside you and the way you say his name he could commit to memory. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” He rasps against your core as you feel that familiar cool tightening so fast.

“How long Frankie?” Your question comes out in short gasps as you drop your head against the door.

He can feel how close you are and his answer is on the tip of his tongue as you break. Your knees threateningly close to giving out until his large palm keeps you pressed upright.

His hand skates up your back, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin as he flicks the clasp on your bra.

His mouth trailing hot kisses up your stomach, his tongue circling your nipple to stiff peaks as his hand caresses the other. His lips are on you, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip and you can taste yourself on him. Soft breathy moans as he drowns in you.

You feel exposed as he takes a step back to really look at you. Your body of work of art on display for him as you try to catch your breath.

He’s painfully hard and fully clothed.

“Bedroom.” It’s not a question as you brush by him.

He’s on your heels as you walk down the short hall to your bedroom. The sound of his shirt being tossed to the ground and the clink of his belt buckle as he strips down.

He spins you with one hand and a smirk on his face as your legs hit the bed. It’s slow the way he draws down his boxers and mixture of pride and concern at the look on your face when you see the size of him.

“Fuck me.” A little breathless and louder than you intended. The heat creeps up his neck and spreads to his face when he stalks towards you on the bed.

“You still want this?”

“Yes please.”

His cock twitches at the way you say please. The way you’re so ready to do whatever he says. His mind races to other things he thinks you’ll let him do.

He litters kisses up your body, you feel so good against his palms as he glides them over you, like he can never get enough of just touching you. Every bit of skin is exposed to the soft light in your room.

A soft curse under his breath has you pausing. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control, and it’s been awhile for me.” The nerves starting to build below the surface.

“Me too.” He says honestly and your hand wraps around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

His hands are everywhere and you can’t think straight, all you can focus on is him. How much you need him. How you finally feel needed by someone and not just a toy to be used.

He wants to do this differently. He wants to take his time with you. Savor you and all the sweet noises you make. He wills his hands to slow as you pant against his neck. Reveling in the way he’s already got you so worked up. You’re so sensitive to his touch, the way your nipples perk up at just the slightest touch. The goosebumps on your skin when he trails his lips over your stomach and down your thighs.

You smell like vanilla mixed with him and he wants to bury himself in it, drown in it until he has no more room in his lungs.

You can tell he’s taking his time with you, in a slow almost torturous way. His hands grip your thigh as he raises up, his face level with yours and his eyes are asking for permission or forgiveness you can’t tell the difference in this moment.

You can feel his cock throb where it’s pressed against your stomach, precum leaking from the tip as you reach down to stroke him and he lets out a curse as he lets himself feel you for a moment. Your soft hand wrapped around him as you pump him slowly, deliberately.

“Fuck.” He stills your hand. “I can’t let you keep doing that querida.”

You giggle and it makes his heart swell. Even now how desperate you are for each other and still there’s a playfulness to you. Something he’s always wanted, not just sex but -this.

Your hands fall back beside your head as your hips chase him impatiently. You’re beautiful like this, laid out for him. If he were a more patient man he’d snap a photo for him to keep. His mind could never forget the image of you anyway.

“Frankie.” You whine. “I need you.”

He leans down over you, his lips pressed to yours as he lines himself up. He can feel you tense briefly as he sinks into you on a soft exhale. “You have me.”

His hips start to move slowly as he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck and chest. The stretch of him is a lot at first, you whimper as he waits for you to relax into it. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands fisted in his hair as he steadily picks up the pace.

It’s the only sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. His name leaving your lips in short gasps as he pounds into you. Trying to pour every feeling of those words that are too soon to say yet he wants to so badly. The way you arch your back, your skin on his as tears spring in your eyes.

“Frankie please.”

“Please what baby.” His voice gravelly with desire because he already knows what you need.

His hands work their way between your bodies as he circles your clit in swift motions. You didn’t think it possible to come this many times in one night. No one has ever cared to meet your needs the way Frankie is.

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie so close.” You pant out

“Good girl, come for me and then I’m gonna fill you up.”

He nips at your jaw as you spread your hands down the length of his back, pulling him closer to you.

His filthy words and the steady drag of him send you over the edge. Your whole body tenses and shudders as you cry out coming undone at his skilled touch. You’re clenching around him so tight he doesn’t know how he can even move. A few short thrusts and he’s spilling into you, moaning your name.

It’s blinding the way he feels as he collapses into you, he’s trying to fill his lungs with air as your hands work through his hair and your lips meet his temple. You don’t seem in any rush to stop this feeling, his grounding weight on your body as you both lay tangled in each other.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely. He chokes on the words he really wants to say.

“I should be thanking you Frankie.” You brush his damp hair away from his face. “That was amazing.” You bite your lip not wanting to say more and ruin the moment.

His lips meet yours in a chaste kiss before he rolls off you. Thankful for the light still on in your room so you can really get a good look at him. Your eyes flutter closed as you hear the sound of water running and the ringing of the towel.

Your heart cracks open a little more at the thought of never having someone take care of you like this. When he returns to wipe you down and place a soft kiss to your forehead before climbing back in. Pulling you close to him as you bury your face in his chest.

It’s not long before he can hear your light snores, he reaches over to flick off the lamp as he murmurs ‘I love you.’ To the crown of your head.

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cozage · 9 months

Text

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 22: A Painful Departing

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2k

You thrashed in Marco’s arms, desperately trying to reach Ace. But Marco’s grip on you was iron tight, and you were forced to watch the love of your life throw flame after useless flame. Akainu burned too hot. Ace’s flames had no effect on him. You knew that, and surely Ace had to know that too. And now you had to sit back and watch him fight a battle he could never win.

You saw it before it was going to happen. Your observation haki had never been so clear and concise. But you saw the final punch. The one that went through his chest. To protect Luffy.

You couldn’t bear it. Your father and your lover in the same day. You refused.

You went feral, thrashing in Marco’s hold. Any bit he would give you to break free would get you closer to Ace. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but you held your bracelet against his skin and sunk your teeth into flesh.

“What the hell?!” Marco screamed and you used his shock to rip your body away from him, taking off towards Ace.

“No!” Marco screamed, but you scrambled away before he had the chance to grab you. You said a silent apology to your child as you ripped your bracelet off and shoved it into your pocket, lava coursing back into your veins as you dashed toward Ace and Akainu. You were close. You could make it.

It was a race between the three fire users: Ace, Akainu, and you. Who could get to their target first. Any mistake would end in death.

Lava clashed against lava, your two fists smashing against Akainu’s one. It burned, but you could hold it steady.

“Ace?” Luffy’s small voice came from behind you, but you didn’t dare lose your concentration.

Akainu gave you a wicked smirk. “You’ve gotten weaker,” he chuckled, looking at how much you struggled to keep your hold against him.

“So have you.” Your teeth grinded together in concentration, trying to push him back. Even just an inch.

“Stop,” Ace begged. “Y/N, stop. You can’t-“

“Go!” You screamed. “You caused this! So take Luffy and go! Now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Fuck, Ace! Just listen to me for once in your life!” You screamed. It was ironic those words were coming from you, considering how many times others had said them to you that you had ignored. “Go!”

Your entire body ignited, pushing lava toward Ace and Luffy so they were forced to flee. You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to the battle. You had to give them enough time to get away. Enough time to be free.

Your skin burned. Your vision grew spotty. You could feel the urge to vomit rising fast, but you forced it back down. You just had to hold Akainu for a few more minutes. Just until Ace and Luffy got away. You could do this. The pain was nothing compared to the heartbreak you had endured.

Akainu gave you a smirk. “I see you’d prefer for me to kill you first.”

“I would prefer that, actually,” you hissed back, starting to lose traction. “Ace promised I could die first.”

His smirk grew to a wicked grin. “Then let me make good on that promise.”

His other fist swung around, aiming to connect to your face. You couldn’t stop it. You knew that. It was over.

A part of you was relieved. You had been fighting just to survive for so long, it would be nice to rest for a bit. You could see Thatch again. You would never have to know life without your father. Your family would be okay. They had each other. And Ace had Luffy. You could die knowing you had made a difference. That’s what really mattered.

You closed your eyes and waited for the impact. For the end.

The sound of a metal sword clanged in your ear, and the heat that was emitting from the Vice Admiral in front of you seemed to disappear. A gasp exuded from the crowd, and your eyes snapped open again.

“Sorry I was late, Y/N.” Red hair and a black cape clouded your vision, Shanks comforting voice filling your ears. “We got a little busy on the way here.”

Just the arrival of Shanks and his executive crew made the Marines stop in their tracks. Even Segoku looked nervous. But all you wanted to do was cry.

“I think we can call this a draw, Sengoku. Don’t you?” Shanks called up to the Fleet Admiral, still holding Akainu with his sword.

Sengoku’s eye twitched, but he didn’t move. “Shanks-“

“You’ve got Whitebeard, we’ve got Ace. Seems like a fair trade off.”

You looked over to your father, still standing tall despite the holes that had been bored through him, and you struggled to keep your composure.

“She’s under my protection now, Whitebeard!” Shanks yelled out, for the entire battlefield to hear. “I‘ll protect them both until I breathe my last breath! I swear it!”

“Go,” your father’s voice came, soft but powerful. “Keep living. That is my final order as your captain and your father.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stared in awe, but Shanks threw you over his shoulder and darted away from Akainu as everyone turned their attention away from you.

“No!” You screamed, smacking Shanks back. “He’s alive! He’s alive! We can’t leave him!”

Akainu quickly recovered from shock and shot a beam of lava at you and Shanks, but Shanks quickly evaded it. However, the brothers in front of you weren’t so lucky.

The beam hit Ace’s back and Luffy’s torso, causing them to collapse to the ground.

“Ace!” You screamed, but he didn’t get up.

“Ace!” You screamed again, twisting in Shanks’s hold to get a better view. “Ace! Get up!”

“Stop squirming,” Shanks scolded. “Trust me and trust them. Stay still.”

But you couldn't do what you were told. You never could. Ace was in danger, and you kicked and shoved until Shanks lost his hold of you.

You dashed towards Ace and Luffy, falling to the ground next to them. Ace’s back was covered in lava, and you quickly worked to move it off him. His skin looked like it was melting, steam emitting from his body as he lay limp and unresponsive.

Luffy was faring slightly better than Ace, but they both had severe burns and wounds from the lava. You couldn’t even tell if they were alive.

“Ace,” you sobbed, trying to shake him and Luffy awake. “Please wake up.”

“Jinbe!” Shanks yelled. “Can you take them?”

“Please,” you whispered, cupping Ace’s face. “Please don’t leave me.”

“He’s dead!” Akainu shouted, approaching the three of you. “And soon you can join him.”

His fist ignited, and you leaned yourself over Ace and Luffy, trying your best to shield them so the lava wouldn’t hurt them again.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you whispered, holding the brothers tightly. “I’m sorry Rayleigh. I tried.”

You could feel the heat of Akainu getting closer to you, just as you remembered in your dreams. You were too weak. You were always too weak.

Suddenly you were lifted up, being carried away. You tried to twist your body, searching Ace and Luffy again, but the grip tightened and was too strong for you to fight. You screamed out, half in frustration, half in pain.

“I have them,” Jinbe said. “Stop fighting me! You’re only hurting yourself.”

Jinbe’s voice gave you a little bit of comfort, but you still panicked as you thought about Ace and Luffy. How were they doing? Would they even make it off the battlefield?

“Up here!” A man atop a yellow ship shouted. “I’m a doctor.”

Jinbe skillfully jumped up onto the deck of the ship and bolted through the door. He dropped you gently to the ground, and then set the two unconscious boys down for the doctor to take over.

You tried to stand on your own, but your vision instantly went spotty. You staggered and tried to hold onto the wall for support, but you weren’t sure how long you would last.

Luffy was being carried away by about five different people when you finally looked up. Ace was face down on the ground, two men tending to his burn wounds.

“Bepo, make us disappear.” The man with the spotted hat watched you cautiously. “At least you’re still standing. Looks like you’re the one I have to worry about the least.”

To counteract his point, you leaned over into the trash can and immediately threw up. You hadn’t had your bracelet on for at least 20 minutes, and you began to fear the worst as your stomach churned and shifted.

“Sea prism,” you choked out, vomiting more contents of your stomach into the trash can. “I need sea prism.”

You reached into your pocket and grabbed your bracelet, trying to cool your body back down. But even with the bracelet on, your entire body felt funny.

You cried out in pain as another sharp stab hit your stomach, causing you to double over as you struggled to breathe.

“You really can’t handle your own ability?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at you. He could tell something was wrong with you. This wasn’t normal levels of sickness due to devil fruit powers.

You began throwing up again though, major cramps still tearing through in your abdomen.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The man hissed, bending down and putting his hand against your forehead.

“Tend to Luffy,” you whispered, gagging and curling into a ball to try and mitigate the pain. You clutched your sea prism bracelet, but the pain wasn’t going away.

“Tell me,” the man said, grabbing your jawline and forcing you to stare at him.

“She’s pregnant,” Jinbe said, watching you wearily. Ace must have told him. They had been together in Impel Down, afterall.

“How far along?” He hissed.

“Five months,” you whimpered, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. You tore away from him to continue wrenching into the trash can.

He sharply inhaled. “Don’t you know not to use your powers during pregnancy?”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you snapped back. “But I wasn’t going to let Ace die!”

A blue hue appeared around you, and then suddenly you were dropped into an ice water bath.

You screamed out in shock, unsure where you were. You prayed the Navy hadn’t found a way to get you back into their grasp.

There was commotion outside, and suddenly Jinbe burst through the door to see you sitting in the tub. The other man followed in after him.

“Luffy and Ace,” you said again, bile rising into your mouth once again. “Go check on them.”

“My crew is prepping for surgery as we speak. Do me a favor and stay still.”

Once again, a blue hue surrounded you. You weren’t sure what this man’s power was, but you were certain it was tied to the strange color that surrounded you now.

He ran a sword along your body, and a scan came up. There were a several red alerts that occurred around your stomach, and your heart quickened.

“Is it okay?” You asked. “Is my baby okay?”

“Ikkoku!” He barked out, and suddenly a woman appeared in the doorway. “Prep her for surgery. 5 months pregnant. Priority is lowering body temperature to normal range.”

“Of course, captain.” The woman said, walking over to you. “You’re going to feel a light pinch.”

“What’s happening?” you cried, the world starting to spin around you. “No, no, no! You aren’t listening to me. I-I need- to-” your breathing became low and rapid, thoughts getting jumbled in your head before you could speak them.

“She’s going into shock,” Ikkoku called out, urgency in her voice.

“Shit,” the man hissed. “The others can wait. Take her into surgery now.”

“No,” you mumbled. Your body felt so heavy. “Luffy…Ace…they…need…”

And then everything went dark.

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