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golden-cherry · 7 months

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deal - cl16 (25/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having lunch with friends always leads to sharing information. And girl, those friends don't hold back.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet, mentions of Carlos and his girlfriend (yes, I consider this a trigger)

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: I just reached 2.6k followers and wow!! thank you so much!!! I love you! and this one is for you!!! feedback is appreciated.

Although it's only a few days until Christmas, the sun is shining so brightly that it's pleasantly warm as you and Kika leave the furniture store. As planned - but still with an uneasy feeling - you have left the almost overflowing shopping cart in front of the checkouts and while Charles pays for your "early Christmas present", you and your friend walk to the restaurant.

"I hope all this stuff fits in the car." Kika curls her mouth into a grin. "The mirror I wrote on the note - you know, the one they have to get from storage - is pretty big."

"I'd like to have your guts," you answer her. "Just picking out a huge mirror without knowing exactly whether it will fit anywhere in our apartment."

Kika grins and points to her brown eyes. "Eye measurement, baby. Those marbles are that big for a reason."

You have to stifle a laugh. "If you say so."

While the Portuguese woman plans where in your room she will place which decoration, your thoughts drift off.

It bothers you a little that Charles wants to spend so much money on you. And for no good reason. "I want you to feel comfortable" was his explanation, which is of course very courteous and loving of him. But you could have bought the things with your own money. At least a small part of it.

Would he expect a similarly expensive gift for Christmas now? If so, what could you get him? What do you give someone who already has everything?

"Are you mad at me?" Kika interrupts your flow of thoughts and grabs your elbow.

Confused, you turn to her. "What?"

"I - I don't know." When she stops, you're forced to stop too. "I didn't tell you that Charles is a famous Formula 1 driver. You - you confided in me about Raphael and I kept you in the dark about your roommate."

You exhale. "Kika..."

"I wasn't a good friend and I'm sorry about that. Charles had asked us all not to tell because he wanted to protect you and enjoy the time with you when he was just Charles to you. Even if it wasn't fair to you. I can understand if you're angry with me and-"

"I'm not angry with you," you interrupt her and smile at her. "You're Charles' friend first and foremost and I can't blame him or you for keeping his secret. It doesn't affect our friendship in the slightest."

"Promise?" Her tone sounds a little more pleased than it did a few moments ago.

You nod. "I promise."

She hooks back into you. "Thank goodness for that. I felt super bad because I couldn't tell you. But it wasn't my secret and it wasn't my place to tell you. And I'm really relieved that you see it the same way." She rests her head on your shoulder as you continue walking.

"So you're a model, huh?" you ask her.

She nods. "Yes. Well, I put a lot of effort into it and it's very tiring at times." Kika shrugs her shoulders. "But because of that - and Pierre, of course - I get to travel a lot and see great places. And I really appreciate that." She looks at you. "Now that you're unemployed -" You give her a dirty look. "Maybe you'd like to take my pictures sometime. And then I can post it on my Instagram and maybe other models will want to book you."

"You haven't seen any of my pictures yet," you reply with a laugh as she grabs your hand and jumps up and down. "Of course we can. We can try it out if you like."

Your friend looks around briefly before letting go of you and moving away from you. "How about now? I know you don't have your camera with you, but you can use my phone. The photos won't be as focused as with a real camera, but it should be enough to get you started."

She hands you her cell phone before standing opposite you against the wall of the house. You watch her uncertainly as she fixes her hair. "Are you sure about this? What if the boys are already waiting for us?"

"Let them." She pulls her black jeans up a little so that they sit loosely on her hips. "It won't take long. And I trust you. So here we go."

While Kika turns, repositions herself and smiles at the camera, you take as many pictures as you can. In between, you adjust her purple cardigan so that it sits in the middle of her narrow shoulders, tell her how her feet should be positioned to emphasize the curves of her body and even tousle her hair once so that a few strands fall loosely into her forehead.

When you look at the pictures after ten minutes and favor three of them, she looks curiously over your shoulder. "They look great. Really outfit of the day vibe." You hand the phone back to her. "I like this one. And this one. You've captured my butt well," she grins and puts the phone in her black handbag before hooking it back up to you. "And now let's go. I'm really hungry and I don't want to keep your tiramisu from you."

Oh well.

Charles' words - "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it" - haunt your mind and the images that appear in your head don't make the situation any easier.

For example, Charles kneeling between your legs and his gaze wandering hungrily over your body. How his hands rest on your thighs to open them a little wider so that he can lie comfortably on his stomach between them. How he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties to slowly pull them off your legs. And the way his mouth moves up from the soft skin of your thighs to where you want it to be. Need it to be. The way he opens his mouth and licks his tongue over his lips before closing the distance between you and -

"Watch out. You start drooling." When you give Kika a confused look, she pokes you in the side. "I didn't know you could daydream about tiramisu."

"I wasn't even thinking about tiramisu," you defend yourself, but Kika doesn't believe a word you say.

"Of course not." You could even hear her grin if you weren't looking at her. She lifts her hand and puts it to your cheek, playfully wiping the non-existent spit from the corner of your mouth. "I hate to repeat myself, but you're really not very good at lying."

You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your sneakers. "Is it that obvious?"

"That you're totally into tiramisu? Hardly," she replies wryly, but puts her arm around your shoulder. "Let's be honest. A trained eye like mine can spot something like that, but if you're worried about the boys seeing it - you really don't need to worry. They wouldn't even recognize a dessert if you put it right in front of them."

"I just don't know what to do," you confess to her.

Kika purses her lips. "Would you be ready for tiramisu after everything that's happened?"

A question you don't know the answer to. After Raphael's betrayal, you had actually sworn off men for a long time for fear that something similar would happen to you again. You tried to build a wall around your heart, but Charles has broken it down piece by piece and now there is only him. He has spread inside you, in your head and in your heart, and you are hungry for him - a feeling that you have never felt for Raphael before. A feeling that takes you by surprise and overruns you like an avalanche and you are helplessly at its mercy.

"It's not the end of the world if you're ready for it," Kika assures you and her smile is genuine. "And when you're ready to give the tiramisu its real name, I'll be here if you want to talk about it."

You hug your friend tightly, causing her to let out a loud gasp. "Thank you, Kika. Really."

"You don't need to thank me. After all, I'm going to make full use of the mirror in your room soon and use you for your photography skills."

A few minutes later, you arrive at the small restaurant. As you enter through the glass door, you can already see the two men sitting at a table at the back. And Kika was right - apart from the four of you, the restaurant is deserted.

"Where have you been?" asks Pierre as you join them. While Kika sits down opposite her boyfriend, you take the empty seat next to her. "We've been waiting for ages."

"We had to stop for a moment because I wanted to take photos," Kika explains and shows them both one of the pictures you took of her.

Pierre grimaces in amazement. "Very good photos. I hope you tag her in them too."

Playfully indignant, she puts her hand to her cleavage. "Of course! What makes you think I wouldn't do that? It might even land her more photo shoots with other models." She leans in your direction. "But as long as I remain your favorite model, everything's fine."

"You are and always will be my favorite model, Kika," you reply and briefly lean your cheek against the top of her head before she sits up straight again.

While Kika and Pierre argue lovingly, you feel Charles pressing one of his legs against yours under the table. When you look at him, he smiles. "Everything okay?" he asks silently, tilting his head.

You nod. "Everything's perfect." You press your leg against his as well.

The risotto you ordered doesn't taste too bad, even if it is a little more fancy than your typical meals. The boys talk about their sport and you try to understand everything, but when the conversation eventually turns to engines, you stop listening.

You watch Charles as he talks energetically and passionately to his friend about his job, while the French mainly listens. He tries to explain things with his hands, waving them wildly in front of his face, and if you didn't know him, you'd think he was a bit out of his mind. But there is something twinkling in his eyes, a spark that shines brighter and brighter the longer he talks about Formula 1.

It makes him so attractive that you have to swallow.

"How are Carlos and his girlfriend doing?" Kika interjects into the conversation. "I saw on Instagram the other day that they went on a trip together."

You look from Kika to Charles. "Who is Carlos?"

"My teammate at Ferrari. The other driver," he explains briefly with a smile before turning to Kika. "I've seen that too. Santorini or something, wasn't it? It was definitely nice, but let's see how long it lasts."

You have to ask again. " How long will it last? That doesn't sound like you have much faith in the relationship."

Kika, who has taken a sip of her water, puts her glass back on the table. "Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with faith," she explains and takes her cell phone out of her bag. She taps on it a little until she hands it to you.

You see an Instagram page of a Becca, also a model, it seems. 27 years old, model at the Bijou Management agency. Her last post is actually from Santorini and alongside all the pictures of her lolling by the pool is one of her with a man. Carlossainz55 is tagged in the picture.

"When you're famous, it's harder to have a relationship," Pierre continues. "Not everyone is so lucky and falls in love with someone who is a good match for them. Sometimes rumors surface about people that aren't true, but still damage reputations. And to counteract this, some people go into relationships that put them in a good light."

You look around in confusion. "So it's a marketing strategy? So that people can sell themselves better?"

Charles nods. "These PR relationships are very conspicuous and usually easy to see through, but even then they distract from the actual rumor."

"And Carlos and Becca are in one of those PR relationships?" Your friends nod. "And what's the rumor that needs to be put to rest?"

Charles bites the inside of his cheek. "Carlos was with a young, super-nice woman for years. When they broke up, there was a rumor that he had a secret family and even a son. That this was the reason for the break-up. And that triggered a few conversations at Ferrari." He shrugs his shoulders. "And then they pulled Becca in for him."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Pulled her in? How do you find someone to willingly agree to a fake relationship like that?"

Kika catches your attention. "Some racing teams have a cooperation with certain modeling agencies for such cases. Which of course makes the whole thing even more conspicuous. But just think how much publicity the girlfriends get from it. It definitely doesn't hurt the modeling job."

"But you also have to understand that millions of euros are attached to a driver's reputation," Pierre explains. "Fans buy tickets to see their favorite driver. They buy merchandise like shirts, caps or whatever to show their loyalty. And loyalty is not exactly low. Ask Charles. One priest has his whole Instagram page dedicated to him."

As you look at your roommate, he can only nod. "That's true. Fans put their favorites on pedestals, praise them to the skies and would defend them to the bitter end. But a rumor that is so serious and has consequences like falling sales figures - anything is better than fans who refuse to support their favorites."

"And why do you think it won't be good for much longer?" Charles looks nervously around the room as if he doesn't know what to say, and his friends also avoid your gaze and your question. "Guys, I don't know these people. So, whatever you tell me - I can't do anything with the information anyway. Is there another woman?"

"It's not exactly another woman," Kika mumbles into her glass and all heads turn in her direction. "What is it? Like she's going to run to the nearest news agency and tell them that the Spanish Ferrari driver isn't exclusively into women."

You raise your hands placatingly. "In case it's not clear - of course I'll keep everything that's said around the table to myself. I'm not crazy and risking our friendship."

"I didn't expect anything else," Charles replies with a smile that could melt glaciers. "I couldn't bear it if we weren't friends anymore either."

As you look at him and mindlessly lick your lips, you feel Kika's elbow gently on your arm.

"What do you think? Do you fancy some tiramisu?"

Your gaze lingers on Charles and when he presses his leg a little harder against yours, your breath hitches. "I'm craving it."

And indeed. The tiramisu isn't as good as the one at the restaurant where you met Kika and Pierre, but it comes close. You try to look away from Charles, but every time you look at him, his eyes are already on you. Something that makes you even more nervous than it should.

When you get into the car a short time later, unnoticed, you glance briefly over the seats back into the trunk. "Where's the new bed?"

Charles straps himself in and has the seat belt fastened against his torso. "They'll deliver it between Christmas and New Year and set it up straight away. Then I won't have all the work and Pierre won't have to lug it around with me."

"For which I am very grateful," replies the Frenchman, steering the car through the streets of Monaco. "I don't even know how we're going to transport this mirror without breaking it. It was already barely possible to get it into the car."

"That sounds like a you-problem," grins Kika, looking at her boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. "You're the strong men. You'll find a solution while we get all the little things into the apartment. Right?"

The question is directed at you, but apart from a nod, she can't expect anything else in response. Charles's fingers are once again wrapped around your calf, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin and you can't think of anything else but the feeling of warmth that spreads through you from this small touch.

It takes a good hour for both the mirror and the rest to get to the upstairs in your apartment. After Pierre involuntarily teaches you several swear words in French and Kika decorates your entire windowsill with fake plants, they quickly make a run for it, worried that you're both going to take even more advantage of them than you already have.

"We've had a good day so far," you call out to Charles from the kitchen as you pour you both a glass of water each. You don't know where he is, but he will probably have heard you anyway.

"Definitely," comes his voice from the living room. As you follow it, you see Charles sitting on the large couch, his head back and his eyes closed. Only now do you notice how thick his neck is. Is it from all the training for Formula 1?

"Here." You hold his glass of water out to him and he opens his eyes to accept it. As you sit down, he takes a sip. You watch his Adam's apple bounce as he swallows.

"Thank you," he replies quietly and rests his arm on the back of the couch. A sign for you to lean against him, which you definitely don't refuse.

As you snuggle into his side and breathe in his unmistakable scent, you feel tiredness overtake you. "But it was exhausting."

""Mh-mhh."

"Thanks again. For my early Christmas present. Even though it wasn't necessary," you joke, but as rigid as Charles is sitting next to you, he doesn't seem to be in the mood for jokes. And as you follow his stare, the roses on the white piano come into your field of vision. The reason why you suggested the trip to the furniture store. And suddenly your tiredness is blown away.

"Do you happen to know anyone who has something like a fire bowl or something?" you ask your flatmate.

This question seems to break him out of his spell. His gaze wanders from the roses to you and he raises an eyebrow in confusion. "A fire bowl?" You nod. "Joris has a rooftop terrace and we've had bonfires there before in the summer." He licks his teeth once. "What do you need a fire bowl for? You're not thinking about sitting around a fire with sticks and marshmallows in winter, are you?"

"Not exactly," you reply and get up from the couch. As you look down at him, you hold out your hand. "Come on, mon joli. I have an idea."

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thewriterghost · 1 year

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Morning Coffee

Pairing: poly!marauders x reader

Summary: You bring morning coffee to the boys.

Note: Okay, so, if anyone is following my blog for a while you probably know how I'm desperately in love with the marauders. But I never had enough inspiration to write my own fanfics for them. Well, today I did. I hope you enjoy this! Reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated!

***

You shake off your boots and your coat before reaching for your keys to the apartment you all share. The white sky of the winter morning was filled with chirps of birds and occasional car noises, from what you can hear from the window near your apartment door. You hold the paper bag that contains the pastries on one hand and try to hold the little coffee tray in between your arm and paper bag holding hand, trying to find your keys in your coat's pocket. Before you can, the door suddenly opens, making you jump slightly in the process. Sirius' sleepy face appears, smiling at the coffee smell you bring with yourself.

"There you are." He holds the door open for you and as you step in, he gets the coffees from you, saving them from the risky position they're in.

"I was going to wake you up once I was back. When did you wake up?" You ask, as you get your scarf off and hang it on to the hanger next to the door.

"Prongs." He shrugs as he holds the arm of your coat, helping you out of them. "He left for his morning run, ten minutes ago."

The explanation is enough. James tends to make little noises when he is getting ready, a drawer closed here and a door opened there. It usually doesn't disturb any of you, yet sometimes it happens when your sleep is really light and it awakes you to the fullest.

"I haven't seen him on the way." You pout slightly. "He missed his coffee."

Sirius leans in to wipe the pout off your face with a kiss. Just a quick peck, yet it is enough to make your heart flutter in your chest.

"We'll leave it on the counter. He can get it when he comes back."

You nod with a smile that is clearly because of that little kiss.

"Where's Rem?" You ask while walking towards kitchen to put the pastries on the counter, with Sirius following behind.

"I..." Sirius looks around for a second, his mind is clearly still trying to wake up. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?" You ask as he bolts towards the bathroom.

"I mean, I thought he was in the bathroom or something." He answers from the bathroom.

A quick search around the house tells you that Remus is clearly not home. As you reach for your phone to call him, the front door clicks. Both yours and Sirius' heads turns at the sound.

"Rem?" You meet him halfway.

"Hey, you're both awake? I was going to wake you with coffee." He raises his hand that holds a little coffee tray, just like the one you brought merely minutes ago.

Sirius starts to chuckle behind you, which turns into a full on laughter after you realize what just happened. You get the coffees from Remus' hand and point towards the kitchen counter with a nod, not being able to contain your own laughter.

"That's exactly what I was planning, honey."

He looks at your coffee tray and then his, as you put it next to yours on the counter.

"How did we miss each other?" He asks chuckling as he shakes his head.

"No idea."

He walks up to you and give you a kiss, sweet but cold with winter air. You put your hands on his cheeks, trying to warm him up a bit.

"Thanks for the coffees, dove."

As you giggle, you hear Sirius' protests. "Why do you two need to be so thoughtful? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love both of you, but why are you thoughtful at the exact same time? What are we going to do with this much coffee? And also where's my kiss?"

You walk towards the kitchen counter with a chuckle, as Remus pulls Sirius into a kiss as well. You get a plate for the pastries and start putting them on, displaying what you got.

You are in the process of handing them their coffees when the door clicks open once more. A few seconds later, James appears at the kitchen door. What makes you all burst into laughter is the fact that James also has a coffee tray in his hand.

"What? What's going on?" He looks absolutely clueless, which makes you laugh even more at the cuteness of his expression.

Remus is the first one to reach out to his coffee tray.

"Apparently we all thought the same thing this morning, huh?"

James' eyes finds the other coffee trays and slightly widens.

"You can't be serious."

You snort. Sirius shakes his head with a fake disappointment.

"You all are setting the bar too high, you hear me? I can't compete with this."

Remus puts an arm around his waist. "You don't need to, love."

"Yeah, because this is ridiculous. What are we going to do with this much coffee?" James chimes in with an amused tone, putting an arm around your shoulder and giving you a kiss on top of your head.

"That's what I said!" Sirius says, taking a sip from his coffee. "We can't drink all of this."

"We can try?" You offer.

"We'll set some of them aside, and heat them when needed." Remus says, finalizing the matter in hand. "Or else, you all will get too energetic for me to handle."

You lean into the counter, getting one of the pastries -a donut- from the plate and taking a bite. "That'll work?" You ask before Sirius gets a chance to tease Remus about 'handling them'.

"We'll see." James shrugs as he also takes a donut.

After a few minutes of eating pastries and sipping your coffees, you hear Sirius chuckle.

"I can't believe you all went to get coffee and never once bumped into each other."

"Yeah, I mean, how many routes are there to get to the coffee shop, really?" You add, licking a finger clean from powdered sugar.

"From now on, let's tell each other when we're about to get coffee, alright?" Remus asks, chuckling into his coffee cup.

You all nod in unison as you eat and drink, still occasionally giggling.

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader

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verstappentime · 1 month

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haven't shared anything new in a bit so here's the start of a maxiel bit where max was actually just hormonal in hungary and that's why he was cranky.

(tw: there's like a brief description of max puking here, apologies.)

max has to tell medical, because he’s afraid if something is really wrong, he might bleed out or something.

the medic says he’s fine, presses all over his abdomen and checks for tenderness and all that. they suggest he go to a real doctor, and tell him deciding to race was really stupid. he snaps something about how he knows that, thanks.

he’e still shaking when he walks back, has been since GP told him he crashed hard enough to alert medical.

he can’t pay attention to the debrief, can only think about the little app on his phone telling him the baby is the size of a tadpole or whatever. he thinks it would make him feel better to look at it, to remember how much cushioning they have in there, but he hasn’t got his phone back yet.

they keep asking him questions; he just nods or shakes his head, all of that simmering anger from before gone as fast as it came. just fucking hormones again, probably.

he has to leave the debrief to go throw up. he’s almost too late realizing the anxiety has turned into real illness.

he nearly knocks his chair over, pressing a hand to his chest like he can stem the burning as he fumbles to get out of the room. it always starts with a roll of nausea, then acid reflux, then. yeah.

he’s managed to go the whole day, the whole race, thank god, without this happening. he probably should have appreciated it more while he could, because he’s currently regurgitating all the water he had after the race and cold sweating and he might as well die here.

he’s embarrassed enough by the whole fucking day, by how mad he got at GP, at how the things he said must have cut hannah. and now he’s– now this is happening, and someone is probably going to come look for him, because he made it obvious what was happening. or, worse, tell daniel to look for him, and then he’ll have to make up some dumb story and get caught, because he’s an awful liar.

there’s a knock on the door. “max.” it’s brad, not daniel. at least he’s won something.

he coughs, chest heaving. the worst of it may be over. “present,” he says, voice scratchy. his throat is starting to get raw after the past week of what he is really trying not to let himself call morning sickness, because he’s in denial, which is fine as long as he’s self-aware about it, and also because it’s not just the morning, just whatever fucking time his body decides it will be.

“can i open the door? i have gatorade for you.”

“yeah, go ahead.” he really doesn’t want anyone to see him sitting on the fucking bathroom floor, but his head is throbbing now, and he’s really not trying to make anything worse.

brad doesn’t look phased, at least. he crouches down and hands max an orange gatorade. he’s got two more tucked under his arm. “you look rough, man.”

max a tiny sip. he’s glad it’s something with sugar. water tastes fucking awful the past few days. “thanks,” he mumbles.

“you looked bad yesterday, too,” brad says, conversational.

he knows he did. he was nauseous and moody and exhausted. he yelled at GP about the fucking rain. “thank you for the concern.”

brad rolls his eyes and points to the gatorade, “drink the rest of that. how dehydrated do you feel?”

“i’ll drink it.” max rubs his forehead. he doesn’t want an IV or anything. they made him do that last time he was sick after a race. he takes a long sip; it actually tastes alright. “see? i’m drinking it.”

brad gives him a look, like i’m watching you. “going to tell me what’s going on?”

max closes his eyes, letting the back of his head thunk against the wall. he doesn’t know why he can’t be one of those people with no symptoms. he hasn’t told anyone, didn’t want to until he made it through this weekend. he wanted to tell victoria first, cry down the phone and let her tell him what to do. fuck.

“what does it look like?” it doesn’t even sound mean. he’s too tired to make it mean, and his voice cracks, even though he really, really didn’t want it to. “could you just– can you get daniel, actually?”

#maxiel #max/daniel #daniel/max #maxiel fic #ik mpreg can be devisive i think this is quite tame lol #this will be finished soon with some sweet hurt/comfort for our max #f1 fic

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strawberrysnoopy · 8 months

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ACT ONE: The Photo-shoot, Part Two

prologue, part one

warnings: basic stuff (infidelity, mentions of sex and masturbation, ada slander, yadda, yadda), i also don't know how an er really works so..., brief mention of disordered eating habits but not an eating disorder (if that makes sense), foreshadowing (in the same chapter), almost sex but not yet sugar, blah blah, blah. I also can't write fight scenes so whatever. Also I promise that this will be the last dinner party esque scene in a while lol.

tags: @heylesamis, @sweetserial, @iloveyousomuch1989, @galactict3a, @m1sery-busin3ss, @ssulfurr, @julia13123, @nic-stars, @stillhavingdaddyissues, @greywardensaywhat thank you anons for your submissions and helping motivate me to continue this series!

Leon sat beside you in the emergency room, holding up an ice pack to his eye. You hated that out of all things to be concerned about right now, you were staring at his thick biceps and his veiny forearms like some cheap whore. The nurses who saw the both of you come in had looked at Leon first, so you were justified in staring. At least a little. "How's the eye?" You asked, reaching over and pulling the ice pack back a little so you could see the damage. A few capillaries in his eye had burst open, making his eye look all bloody and gross. The beginnings of a dark bruise were beginning to form. "Hurts. But nothing I haven't felt before." True, he was a government agent assigned to save the world over and over again: so this might be just a blip in his entire career. You nod, patting his arm and settling back into your seat beside him. Tonight hadn't been what you anticipated at all. You just wanted a cozy dinner with Leon and your husband to ease his loneliness. He was cooped up in his house and you knew he would neglect to feed himself. Leon wouldn't really consider himself a lonely man. He had friends to bide his time with when Ada was gone doing a mission. Your husband was one of those people, and of course, by instinct: the invite of friendship was gracefully extended to you. However, Leon would really hate to admit that you're the better in maintaining the friendship than your husband ever was. You were the one to start inviting him over for dinner when Ada was gone because you knew he'd probably put some half-assed attempt in feeding himself everyday. Not that he didn't know how to cook (he was quite an excellent one, in fact), he felt that it was kind of pointless if you ate when there wasn't someone to share the meal with.

Tonight was one of those nights for him. You texted him earlier this afternoon, offering him dinner and the company of friends. He could practically hear your soft voice from over the phone: the kindness you radiated with your mere presence lighting him up like the Fourth of July. Of course he had to accept your invitation, it's not like he had plans: other than sitting in his boxers, drinking and stare at the ceiling while he laid in bed. You were rather quick to trot over to the door when Leon came knocking. There was a stupid grin plastered on your face and with the way your eyes looked at him with a bright, glimmering shine glazing over them. "Leon!" You squeal, capturing him into your arms and swaying him back and forth. A low and rumbly chuckle escaped his throat while he hugged you, arms finding their home around your waist. Your husband's off somewhere in the house, if you had to guess accurately: by the fridge, contemplating how plastered he was planning on getting tonight in the shortest amount of time. Perhaps he'd go a little slower tonight, but you don't have much hope in him with the fact Leon's there. It might encourage him. Who knows.

"I appreciate you having me over tonight. So nice of you to make sure I'm never lonely." Among other things. But he's not squealing too soon. Your eyes longingly rake over his body, and god, the gall of this man to not appear in your life sooner and sweep you off of your feet. Noticing he's wearing something different, he smiles at you and pinches your cheek, muttering the same nickname he always called you.

Silly Girl.

God, fuck this man to the highest degree, you curse to yourself. And his attire?! Oh fuck him. You tried not to notice his attire. It was that of a somewhat dorky husband. Perhaps that’s what attracted Ada, perhaps that’s what made her hate him so much. Regardless, you loved the somewhat silly outfit on him of a gray sweatshirt he’s had since police academy, the lip of his boxers visible from above his jeans if he stretched his arms up (maybe bless your eyes and existence with the token appearance of his happy trail), and some semi-baggy jeans with his beat up shoes. He was a handsome man, and he seemed to know it. Yet, he still had enough a heart to be humble. Dinner was served quickly, everyone taking their seats at the table. Leon had praised you on your cooking skills with words (and a hand patting your thigh under the table. Hot.) The conversation was light-hearted, cheerful, but most of all, refreshing. The table had even gotten to the topic of firsts: obviously dancing over the first time any one of you had sex but you had a sneaky feeling your tipsy turning drunk husband would bring it up. "So, who was your first kiss, Leon?" You asked, taking a bite of the braised rib on your plate (that you worked your ass off on, might we add) while your head slowly turned over to meet his gaze. "Some girl in like...4th grade. She kissed me first. I don't even remember her name." You laugh, jokingly raising your hand to signal you were the same. "Anyone after that?" Leon shakes his head. "Just some college girls and Ada." The table falls silent, the sound of forks scraping against the plate and quiet chewing beginning to get on your nerves due to the fact nobody was speaking. "And after that?" Your husband chimes in and you realize you would rather just have the sounds of chewing and forks scraping than having him say something stupid. Leon shakes his head, assuming whatever your husband was trying to imply was a joke, but you knew better and you had a feeling he knew better as well. "Oh, come on, Leon. You're telling me you haven't at least kissed another woman after marrying Ada." He fights back an eye roll. You laugh. "Can't say I have." "No? Seriously. That's what makes relationship so healthy. Just a once in a while business trip where you're drowning in pussy." Your mouth dried. Blink and you'd miss it, Leon's cool facade cracks and shatters, a scowl overtaking his face. "Well. I'll have to think about that sometime." You look at him, noticing that he was threatening to say something. Something ballsy. Something that might, quite literally, have your soaked panties flung across the room. The look in your eyes was daring him to say it. The fucked part of you wanted to hear it.

"What if someone fucked your wife? Would it be any different?" And just like that, you're on fire. Of course you found it hot. Because his best friend, who is not supposed to have any romantic feelings towards his friend's wife mind you, was actually standing up for you. "The fuck you just say to me?" Leon gets up from his seat with a death glare that could kill any man but oh lord, you? You're fucking living for this. "You heard me. What if I fucked your wife? Would it be any different?" Your eyes widen, head snapping over to Leon. Oh, he wanted to fuck you? He wanted to fuck you? Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit! Within minutes, your husband tackles Leon and tries punching him but if you think he's winning this fight, you are sorely mistaken. Leon was a government agent and in seconds, he's on top of Ezra beating the lights out of him. After the shock (let's be honest here, giddiness) passes, you pull Leon off of your husband, mumbling to him to calm down. You were surprised when he had apologized and asked to take your husband to the emergency room.

"How's the eye?" You asked, reaching over and pulling the ice pack back a little so you could see the damage. A few capillaries in his eye had burst open, making his eye look all bloody and gross. The beginnings of a dark bruise were beginning to form.

"Hurts. But nothing I haven't felt before." True, he was a government agent assigned to save the world over and over again: so this might be just a blip in his entire career. You nod, patting his arm and settling back into your seat beside him. Tonight hadn't been what you anticipated at all. You just wanted a cozy dinner with Leon and your husband to ease his loneliness. He was cooped up in his house and you knew he would neglect to feed himself. "I'm sorry." He murmured to you, referencing the least important elephant in the room. "About him...cheating on you. If it's any consolation, I'm sure he's not—" You interrupt him.

"He is. It's nothing I don't already know." He nodded, finally taking your hand in his own and running his calloused thumb across the soft and vastly explored top half of your hand. Your husband cheated on you. Something you had dreaded for so long when you first met him but now the fact was spoken into the air just felt like...relief. Like you didn't have to play the guessing game anymore. You weren't acting in a role of a dumb, clueless housewife bobbling around with her mouth and legs open if your husband so chose to have mercy on your needs and finally have mediocre sex with you. "And I also want to apologize for what I said. About fucking you. I wouldn't actually do that to you, yeah? I was just pissed he said that stuff to you." You both know it's bullshit. You both know he wants to fuck. You both know he sleeps with Ada wishing it was you. You pat his arm. "It's okay." A nurse arrives into the waiting room, clipboard totted on her side and a much too relieved poker face gracing her features. "Your husband is alright. We admitted him for a few days to monitor his status, make sure nothing odd pops up. Just needed a few stitches and painkillers so he should be fine." The both of you took that as a cue to take off for the night. Although Leon had been wondering if you'd even visit him in the hospital after the whole cheating confession thing, probably not. Getting up from your seats, Leon takes you by the hand and walks you out to your car. The night air was a soothing chill against your skin, the warmth of Leon's palm bursting through the layers of cold your body temperature had managed to build up. "If you ever decide to....y'know...divorce him. You can always stay with us for a bit while you get back on your feet." His hand rubbed up and down your arm, soothing you like you had lost something very special to you. Which you had: your husband. But that was long ago and the admission was a long time coming: the band-aid had been ripped off of your skin and the pain had subsided. "Thank you." You whisper. He nods. His eyes flicker down to your lips, hand moving from the side of your cold arm to your cheek. His thumb caresses your bottom lip and moving dangerously close to the inside of your mouth. In his eyes, they're zoned out, almost like he's reminiscing of Ada. But you're not Ada. You're you. And that's what has him writhing with lustful agony. But the problem was that there was still a woman he was betrothed to and as much as he hated it, he had a duty to be loyal to her. He hadn't ever broken that loyalty to her and he's not starting anytime soon. With a sigh, he pulls away from you. "I'll see you around, yeah?" He doesn't even let you respond before he awkwardly pats your arm and leaves you alone in the hospital parking lot, leaving you wanting for more. "...Bye." You mumble, getting into your own car to drive home. But on the ride home, Leon's left you wondering. Wondering what would happen if he had just thrown caution to the wind and kissed you. But he was right. You were both married. The most tragic thing of all being that it's not to each-other.

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nqmonarch · 7 months

Text

Valentines Day w/ HSR Characters!

Doing Calc homework and am very stressed, i can feel it everywhere in my body. the math is just not mathing mentally today (i looked at trigonometric identities today so maybe thats why)

Just writing out some messy ideas to take a break

Btw if u sent in a request and I haven't answered it yet I am working on it thank you for your uh question ask thingy i appreciate it, i like to know what people like to read bcus tbh i like to write anything altho jingyuan gets like +10 points cus he fluffy

Valentines Day With Some HSR Characters (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Stelle)

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is old school romantic. You cannot tell me he wouldn't arrive home with a big bouquet of roses (does HSR even have roses?) and 20 other gifts, including but not limiting to boxes of chocolate, teddy bears, and at least one gag gift. There's gotta be at least one, he'd make a dad joke out of it too.

Then he'd reserve one of the best restaurants on the Luofu and bring you there. He'd probably have booked a private room, thank goodness because no one wants to hear the general continuously compliment you until you're a puddle on the floor. What he is best at is attacks. But if he gets a compliment in return he'll freeze up for a moment before playfully returning it.

Jing Yuan doesn't put on his normal coy facade today, instead he just embraces how much he loves you because he's happy to still have you in his life.

Blade

Blade does not know it's Valentine's Day. It's not his fault, cut him some slack. Anyway Kafka probably reminds him that it's Valentine's Day about half way through the day to which he goes into a silent panic. You can't tell he's panicking he's just staring at the wall with a blank face, he actually looks like he wants to murder someone.

The two of you end up celebrating though! He... pulls something together, it really is something. Sure he smells like blood and the waiters are scared, and taking over this restaurant for a Valentine's Day dinner was definitely not in the script but... It could be worse. He's trying his best, really.

Afterwards you and Blade share lots of cuddles! Something he's pretty good at! Holding you just tight enough, and keeping you close to his side-- you just won't be able to get up if you want to get water or anything. He doesn't say too much but you can feel the love in each caress.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng doesn't really like going out, why would he when all he needs is right by his side? So the two of you stay on the express in the archives. What matters isn't where you are but the company. He'd probably get you a few trinkets from different places he's collected over the years, a necklace, a sick looking compass, whatever fits your vibe.

Dan Heng would probably also write you a love poem, and make you read it or awkwardly recite it in front of you. If you read it out loud though he will get unbelievably embarrassed and snatch it away from you. He'd give it back but he'd take some coaxing, be nice okay? His face is already red.

Then when the night draws to a close the two of you would curl up together on that sorry excuse of what he calls a bed. The majority of your body would be on Dan Heng's using him as a pillow, and his arms would be wrapped around your body keeping you still and warm.

Dan Heng's bed is not it man. Personally, I'd get back problems.

Stelle

"You are the one who deserves the golden trash the most," Truly romantic words from Stelle as she hands you a golden trashbag. That is just the first of the gifts she gives you tonight, and the one that's most valuable to her. It's the thought that counts right? You still have no idea what she's talking about when she mentions fighting Sampo as a trashcan...

The two of you spend a romantic night together, walking down the quiet streets of Belobog, and-- did Stelle just investigate a trashcan again? You should be used to this. On the bright side, every time she gets something cool she comes up to you with the biggest smile on her face, it's beyond adorable. Sometimes the trashcans even have good stuff, like a scarf Stelle lets you wear that thankfully doesn't smell like trash.

It's just good to spend time with the person you love. She spends her time catching you up on everything new from her adventures, and when it's too cold to stay out any longer the two of you head to the Astral Express. Where you shower together and then doze off on one of the Express' couch cushions while playing games. Your head rests against Stelle's reminding you, you're never alone.

Okay I need to get back to homework, fun break thanks guys. Imagine being alone on Valentines Day couldn't be me, I have my Calc Homework. It told me I was integral to it <3 legit peak partner material.

#hsr #reader insert #hsr x reader #gn reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #stelle x reader #valentines day #me x calculus homework

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cassandracain52 · 4 months

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You made me think about immunocompromised Tim so now you suffer the consequences (my thoughts) :D

Disclaimer: I haven't actually read that particular arc yet - I'll get around to it, I swear! But I do know roughly what happens.

With the whole spleentuation Tim turns the Red Robin costume into what basically amounts to a Hazmat suit. He doesn't actually change much - he goes for full face coverage and introduces some airtight seals. It makes upkeep slightly more laborious and makes him a lot scarier than he wants to be but it's this or risking getting benched for an infection for an unreasonably long time. Bruce returns and doesn't even question the look until he finds older Red Robin costume without the Hazmat qualities and in an attempt of casual bonding asks Tim why he changed it. You can imagine how the rest goes.

Second scenario:

Bruce vanishes before the pandemic, when he returns the family is very careful with like, disinfecting everything and they always have gloves and masks on their person. He writes it off as a side-effect on the pandemic until he realises how much more careful everyone is around Tim

Third scenario:

Tim uses his general lack of an immune system as a way to get out of things he doesn't want to do where there'll be a crowd. Mostly Gala's. Like:

Tim: I'm worried I'll get sick when I go to the opening of the Lexcorps factory we need to make An Appearance at.

Bruce: You went to ComicCon last week, you'll be fine.

Tim: 🥺

And like, what's Bruce going to do? Tim is right he SHOULD be a lot more careful. He SHOULDN'T go to the gala. So he folds like wet paper without fail every time. Tim cuts his public appearances down to an absolute minimum. Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.

Tims coup de resistance (is that the saying) is getting to attend a business meeting virtually because one of the three (3) people there was travelling two weeks ago

Bruce: Tim you should go to sleep staying up this long is not good for your health your immune system will thank you.

Tim: what immune system.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Tim *chuckles*: I'm in danger.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Damian sneezes once and refuses to take off his mask for six days straight on the off-chance he'll get Tim sick. He was literally digging through the dusty attic. He is not sick. Tim isn't even around half the time. You don't need to sleep in the mask Damian. DAMIAN.

”Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.” <<<asfghjkl XD this is taking me OUT😭 I never really thought of Tim using this as a “get out of jail free” card but he so would. But only for things he doesn’t want to do. That party of maybe 200 guests at most? Nope sorry can’t do it, too risky. That concert with 50,000+ people? Completely fine

All these scenarios were so fun!! I especially appreciated “What do you mean what immune system.” and Tim just immediately starts sweating bullets cause Oh Did He Forget To Mention That?

and Damian would so be super paranoid to accidentally get Tim sick but also would never admit that because Tim Must Never Know He Worries About Him

Damian wearing a full mask, gloves, and maintaining a ten ft distance at all times because Jon (who has seasonal allergies) sneezed kinda close to him: You’re a disgrace to this family Drake. Do us a favor and die

Tim not falling for this for a second: Uh-huh so can I just- [attempts to take approximately One Step Closer]

Damian rapidly scrambling back: nO I HATE YOU STAY AWAY-

Please feel free to share your thoughts again🤣

#these were so fun #thank you for your contribution #I love asks #ive only gotten two but they’re fun #batfam #tim drake #tims missing spleen #damian wayne #dc comics

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stagefoureddiediaz · 5 months

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Hi Kym! I apologize if you have answered an ask like this before, but I am curious for your opinion.

You've talked a lot about how intentional all the Buddie parallels are in terms of costuming for several seasons now, both with Buck and Eddie together, then with their respective girlfriends, and in comparison to Bathena. We are now even getting throwbacks to season 2 and Eddie's first episode with Buck's stonewash jeans! Tim is adamant in interviews that he never planned this bisexual awakening in advance (we know that Eddie was originally meant for Maddie ofc) and that he doesn't know where the characters are going yet, but even Oliver has said he intentionally leans into the Buddie of it all with his acting, or at least into Buck's then-presumed bisexuality.

My question is, with just how pointed and intentional the costume choices have always been, is Tim is lying? Or are the costume designers secret Buddie shippers and intentionally lean into this storyline too? How much of what we see in terms of costuming is the decision of the show runners/directors vs creative expression of the costume designers? Is there a point in the show for you where it became clear how intentional it was becoming with the costuming, where they may or may not have said, "we're going to commit to telling this story in subtext until we are allowed to tell it overtly"?

Thanks :)

Hey Cookie-Kat!!

How lovely to have you in my inbox, and what a great question!

putting my answer under the cut - because it got long!!!

The answer I give is going to have to be a bit vague I'm afraid because the reality is that as I don't work on the show and I'm not 100% sure on the set up of their various departments, I can't categorically state how they are going about things in 911 land! I can share my experience and knowledge of how things can be done and try to give you some sort of framework - but I can't definitively say that this is how they are doing things.

First up let's address the whole Tim lying thing.

Tim is all about subterfuge in interviews - its literally his job as a showrunner. I would take every thing he says in an interview with a giant grain of salt. the entire purpose of his interviews is to tease and hook people, without giving anything way becasue why would he spoil all the things he has planned that make people watch the show he is creating. If he came out in an interview at the start of the season and said

'yeah, we're going to do a cruise ship disaster and all these things are going to happen, and in episode 4 Buck is going to get kissed by a guy and figure out he's bi and Eddie is going to find out his girlfriend was a novice nun and its going to send him into a catholic guilt spiral, and maddie nad CHim are going to get married, but x, y and z are going to happen before they can get down the aisle'

Why would anyone tune in to watch the show? we'd already know what was going to happen so there wouldn't be any point - there would be no buzz and the viewing figures might be ok, but they wouldn't be remotely close to what they are. I know for a fact I probably wouldn't be tuning in - people like to be surprised, they like to speculate - we in fandom take it to a higher level, but even the general audience speculate - water cooler conversations about what you watched the previous evening and how you think it's going to play out are part of a show's appeal - part of how it keeps people watching - shared experiences are a powerful commodity, especially in network television and they cannot be shared if we all know what is going to happen.

I would also add that this season is the most explicit acknowledgement of buddie that we've had in interviews and that means something. The show - writers, actors etc have all been incredibly careful before no to ensure that they haven't crossed over into queerbaiting the audience - which is something I really appreciate them for. But this season, things have definitely changed. whether that is down to being on a new network, that actually has a marketing strategy and that actually seems to care about the show and the stories that they have wanted to tell, I don't know, but it is so refreshing and exciting to see.

Tim is a clever person - he knows exactly what he is doing and every single season, without fail we have him saying things in interviews that can be read in multiple ways - none of them have ever been lies - subterfuge is the name of the game - then if you reread them in the aftermath of the season, you can see what he said did in fact play out as he hinted at - he has the context that we didn't have at the time and that is why he can subvert and talk his way around things.

I genuinely don't think Tim planned to give Buck a bisexual awakening from the start - we know he never planned on the buddie of it all, but a good writer will go where the characters take them. As soon as you create something and put it into the hands of others (the actors, directors and crew) things can very quickly take on a whole new direction and a life of its own.

If you ask me, I genuinely don't think Buck could've had a bi awakening before this point - it wouldn't have made sense from a narrative perspective (and his death and rebirth actually make the perfect jumping off point to explore) until now because of the very nature of Buck.

There isn't a single show (by show I mean one that isn't a limited series which will by definition have a planned arc) on network television that knew where each and every character would end up at the end of the show or that characters journey (by this I mean when cast chose to leave a show). Yes they might have planned a few beats to hit along the way, but they wouldn't know the end point for the character. We have a perfect example on 911 - Michael - the show hadn't intended to end Michaels arc in the way it did - his journey as a queer man coming out later in life was an important part of the show - important for representation as much as anything - they had to adapt and change in light of what was going on with Rockmond and write out a character that they would've had other plans for.

The other thing I should mention is that When Tim says he hasn't decided or written the scripts for upcoming episodes, that doesn't mean he doesn't have a plan. He very much will have a plan. There would've been clear arcs for each character laid out at the start of the writing process for the season - they would want to get character a from one point to another by the end of the season. Its the how they get there that is the unknown - at this point we don't know the end points for any characters this season, but if we take season 5 Eddie as an example - at the start of the season he is post shooting and back at work, seemingly perfectly fine. By the end of the season he is genuinely in a good place having gone through his trauma arc. The arc they would've decided on for Eddie that season was to explore his trauma and how to get him from a 'seemingly' good place to a genuinely good place. From there they would've decided on various touchstones - so Ana being mistaken for Christophers mother and them being a family is his trigger to launch his arc. Chris being scared of loosing his father a major touch stone, pushing him into leaving the 118. His then feeling on the outside - left out and replaced by Lucy is his next one, followed by the fact all his army buddies are gone, another touchstone - coming in quick succession to build momentum and leading to his breakdown. Pushing him to actually get help - therapy is another touchstone - one that helps to get him to the end of the season in a vastly different place - healing but still working on things.

So you see - they generally plan an overall direction, but how they get there is the bit that is a bit fluid and can be determined to a certain extent by audience reaction (I don't mean that they would out and out rewrite the entire plan for the season for a character, but they might chose to lean into different aspects if the audience react in a certain way - we saw this with Lucy - planned for a bigger arc, but the audience reaction to her was pretty negative, so they changed direction with her character and cut her part down).

In terms of Bucks bi arc - they will have been waiting on how it was received before fully determining how to play it out for the rest of the season - I genuinely think we'll be seeing more of Lou as Tommy later in the season as a part of Bucks arc - The way Lou has spoken about it being initially a 4 episode arc, suggests to me that its always been intended to run it longer if reaction was good - which we know it was. My explectation remains the same - that Tommy will be around until either the end of episode 9, or the middle of episode 10, to get Buck to where he needs to be by the season end.

I am on the fence as to where exactly that is - Everything from set, costuming and the script is screaming at me that it's about Buck figuring out not only that he is bi, but that he is also in love with Eddie. That is his arc for the season. What I am unsure of is how they are going to leave things at the end of the season (and I think a part of that will have been determined by audience reaction), whether or not we'll leave him acknowledging his feelings to himself, to a third party (Tommy and or Maddie), or to Eddie himself. Of course part of it will be determined by Eddies arc and how far they plan on getting him in regards to dealing with his catholic guilt and what form and direction t hat is going to take, but I cannot see any reason to start exploring that aspect of his character if you weren't going to use it for a queer arc of some description.

In terms of costuming - which was the main point of your ask - sorry I get rambly in these replies some times - I always view it as the first 2-3 seasons at the very least will be about establishing a characters look and vibe within the wider show, and from then on you can start to play into themes and colour theory etc. Somethings you can establish earlier - especially if they are centric to a character more widely. Examples of this are Eddies army green tees and shirts - establishing him visually as ex military, or the black singlets that he wears when in an emotionally vulnerable place, or Buck wearing his white trainers as part of his search for self, or his white shirts as a signal of him being in danger. You can do this, because they aren't playing on anything in relation to other characters at this early point.

So the decision to take Buck out of jeans (stone wash jeans specifically - he's been wearing jeans they've just been black or dark navy) and have him in very obviously shorter trousers, creating a specific aesthetic for him - this smarter, fitted clean cut style that is different from his season 1 looks, has been about playing into his journey of searching for self - that is his big overarching arc - the one that spans multiple seasons.

The intent to do that, wasn't about Buddie (or bi Buck) when they started to use it as a visual marker for him. It was (and always has been) about Buck. about his search for meaning in his life and who he is, who he wants to be - about being his authentic self.

The reason I got so excited about seeing him in jeans once more, when the first stills dropped at the start of the season - was because I knew that it was a signal that this bigger arc was coming to fruition and moving into its next phase. The costume team have been sitting waiting for when the time was right to do this - its being done with such intention.

Of course I hoped that it would be buddie related - things were pointing in that direction from other costuming choices. And to me at least, I still think its very much buddie related - because to do this now - for this bi awakening arc - its too loud and too big for 'just' a bi awakening arc - its about something bigger for Buck - something long term (and I'm not saying Buck being bi is't long term, because obviously it very much is - bi rep is so important!) him figuring out he is bi is a smaller part of a bigger whole for his character. The implication of the jeans returning is that this part of himself he has unlocked plays into a bigger story. Bucks search for self has always been about finding love - about being wanted and seen and accepted for who he is. As a costume designer, I wouldn't personally be putting him into jeans at this point unless it was related to his endgame - being bi isn't enough on its own for them to decide to visually show that he has fully found what he has been looking for on his search throughout the seasons (the white trainers still being in used also play into this) because he is still looking for that lasting happiness - he's just taken a massive step forward to figuring out what it is and where it lies.

With regards to colour theory and the paralleling of Buddie with other ships such as Bathena or Madney. Colour theory alone it wouldn't be enough to convince me, it is in combination with other factors such as the paralleling of Bathena and Madney that it comes into play. The thing is, creating those parallels and colour theory combinations doesn't have to lead to something. I'm going to do a terrible job of trying to explain this, but I'll give it a go.

Various people, who work on the show in some capacity have all commented over the years that they weren't expecting the level of chemistry that Oliver and Ryan have. We also know that they have played into the buddie of it all with some of the scene choices they've made - sort of an acknowledgement of what we're seeing - the elf scene in s2 is a prime example - a nod to fandom and the fact that they are being shipped together - and an acknowledgement of the chemistry - without it necessarily needing to mean more (the same goes for things like the text comments on the botfly influencer livestream call etc).

Back then wardrobe are still very much in character establishment mode - creating and defining the looks of the characters, and playing into colour theory on an individual level, not necessarily on a partnership level (S2 Bathena would've been treated in this way as they were already intended to be an end game couple so you can play into colour theory much earlier), that comes later. I wouldn't have been able to write costume metas in season 2-3 in the way I do now, because the parallels didn't exist and the ground work hadn't been laid.

Once you get past that intial establishing phase, hat is when you can start to play into the colour theory much more in relation to specific characters and pairings. One of the clearest examples of this is Eddies black shirt green trousers combo that he wears at the loft when having serious conversations with Buck. He first wears it in season 3 at the end of the lawsuit/fightclub arc (3x09), and then we dont see it again until season 5 (5x04) at yet another scene in Bucks loft.

The meaning of the colours in that scene are important sure, it is playing into colour theory, but what is happening visually is that we're subconciously connecting dots and remembering that Eddie has worn this outfit before to talk to Buck - that means it must be a serious conversation, one very much focused on something Buck has done (or hasn't done depending on which way you look at things). Eddie has been in Bucks loft on multiple occasions between those two scenes, and Buck and Eddie have had multiple serious conversations in the intervening episodes as well. so why that scene if its not meant to make us connect dots?

Now on a fundamental level, those two scenes can be read as establishing the close friendship Buck and Eddie share - that they are following through on their s2 promise to have each others backs. its entirely correct to assume that - it is after all what those scenes are establishing. But what it is also doing is laying the ground work for if they want to take Buddie further. we know that the conversations about Buddie have been happening in the writers room and on set for a good long while, and even if you don't yet know if you're going to go in that direction, you would be foolish not to lay the ground work in a subtle way if you can, so that the option is there if you did decide to take that direction.

A show will use what ever tools are at its disposal to lay various foundations that it can then pick and choose to build on as it wants or needs to. It is why we see the pictures in Eddies house moving around, why things on the fridge change (fridge theory is not as out there as some people would have you believe - there is a whole thing coming up on Eddies fridge in reaction to guts and the digestive system - which will very much be playing into his catholic guilt arc!) in Christophers room move around and change - its not just about him being a growing (soon to be teenager) boy, its also about laying foundations for story arcs they might choose to develop down the line and the Buddie groundwork is no different.

Its not about the wardrobe team being shippers of Buddie - its much more about them knowing where a season is headed (in brad strokes, even if they don't have specifics) being really good at their job and now being able to bear the fruits of their labour from earlier seasons - they had been doing the same with buck and Taylor - now they're doing it with Buck and Tommy (and Eddie). It would've been super easy to spin the costuming for Taylor into more positive colours - especially on Buck - in season 5, but they had the bigger picture and knew she wasn't going to remotely be endgame, so they were able to play into that throughout the season. Establishing Tommy as a version of Eddie is building on the Eddie groundwork they laid and using it to make it very clear that we are supposed to see the similarities between them - its steering us as viewers towards thinking 'oh Buck has a type - He's dating someone like his best friend - he should just date his best friend' is all about subtly nudging the audience in the right direction - towards Buddie - its just most people won't pick up on it in a conscious way.

I'm not sure if this makes any sense or if it even answered your ask, but essentially the show is using everything at its disposal to tell the story its telling and they have been laying groundwork that can take things in various directions - they are just choosing to push the buddie agenda to an increasing degree (and I have said groundwork far too many times in this post!!)

Thaks for the great ask 💜💜💜

#kym answers things #cookie-kat777 asks #costume asks #costume things #911 costuming #this is such a rambly post!!!#does it make sense - who knows!!!#911 abc #buddie

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sourbinnie · 1 year

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☆ home ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ; hurt/comfort ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> skz + 9th member!reader (gender neutral) ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> the truth is out (again) but this time it brings tears along the way. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> none ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

old faces, new smiles

a/n: i didn't do the same scenario cus i didn't wanna be repetetive but i did something quite similar, that's why i'm putting the og fic link! hope you enjoy it and thank you for requesting<3 / also this one is in first person and idk why, it just came out that way.

i knew doing one of these interviews where they asked nonstop questions about your past, your family and just how your idol journey started was gonna be difficult. i already went through telling my members that i was on hybe before, yet now i found yourself in a similar situation. reliving memories was not hard but having to share them in such a deep space with others and not shed a tear or two was gonna be a challenge.

i sat down with the rest of your members and prepared myself as hyunjin held my hand carefully. he knew i was nervous about these kinds of things, i was one of the shy members of the group and yet they always brought the best out of me when we talked.

"okay are we ready?" chan asked and everyone nodded. the conversation started with the older members sharing their best memories in jyp and how much their family meant and how they supported (or did not) them. it was a light and sweet conversation, there wasn't any tears but there were clear emotions in chan's voice, minho's expressions and changbin's movements.

it wasn't hard to notice that i was really freaking out when they were sharing images and videos of us as trainees. it completely stopped when they showed the hybe dance practice rooms and my videos in there, doing choreographies i still remembered to this day and i knew it was my turn to speak. i laughed when they showed old photos with different idols that i still hold contact with these days. some really close friends, some that i haven't heard back from in a while, some that left like i did and some that debuted just now.

"it's insane how much potential you've always had (y/n)." changbin said it clearly and it took me by surprise because i wasn't expecting compliments this early and i got really embarrassed by those kinds of comments. they filled my soul but i never knew how to answer them.

"even now looking at you, you grow more and more every day." minho mumbled and i still caught every word of his in my ear. it was truly wonderful seeing your elders appreciate you in such a moving way.

this is when the questions start so i prepared myself and i try to rethink what i went through.

"so as you all know, due to that interview with le sserafim, i was a hybe trainee. i spent most of my early teenage years training and made a lot of friends that i miss a lot these days but i hope to see someday." i took a deep breath 'cause even if they weren't completely gone, people just disappeared from my life left to right and i still miss them to this day. "it's insane how different it is from one company to the other but i left hybe with the best memories that i could and i made that decision myself."

"why did you decide to leave?" seungmin asked and i realized that i never was very clear on why i left, i just said that i had to move out and that jyp was closer. it wasn't so much like that but a bit more complex and i didn't want to sadden the mood that day but right now it felt like the situation was gonna be brought to that.

"i-i don't know exactly what it was. i just made the decision when i was going to debut that i wanted to leave the group because i didn't feel prepared mentally and physically to be an idol, which was a shame because i knew a lot of people wanted to be in my position and i felt like i was letting them down. so i decided to leave hybe and move to a different place." i said bitterly and honestly but with everything i was feeling at that moment. i knew my members right now would understand what i was saying but at the time i remember no one understanding my decision.

i felt the tears the entire time in my eyes but right now i had let them go as they flowed through my cheeks. i grabbed a little tissue that jeongin was handing me and whispered a "thanks innie" as i wiped them away.

"what you did was incredibly brave. you put yourself first and what you needed at the time was that. i know it might be hard looking back and thinking that but for a reason you ended up here with us and i think we wouldn't be complete without you." chan said as he patted my back and i just gave him a little smile. it brought me back to where i was, with my friends, well more like my family.

"when i decided to get back to the idol life and back to my dream, i knew i had to go somewhere else. i just felt like i needed to start over again for me and for everyone to see that i could still do it. so i ended up at the competition with all of you and unfortunately got eliminated but then returned and since then i did not look back." i said smiling as everyone cheered and looked at me with a spark in their eyes. all i ever wanted was to make my members' proud and i felt like i was achieving that.

"you really did bring our joy when you came back (y/n), it wasn't easy without you. also felix and minho coming back was one of the best decisions!" jisung added as minho hit him in the shoulder for forgetting them but it just made me laugh. i sighed as i looked around and held hyunjin's hand still in mine.

"i just feel like it wasn't over, it never was. maybe i misread things at the time that i left but if it wasn't for that, i wouldn't have ended up here." i nodded and looked back at everyone. the way they were listening to every word i said was too much because i usually struggle with expressing emotions and saying the right things but i felt like i nailed it this time with how much they were giving me right now.

"i feel like you made the right choice. we wouldn't be having an ace right now if you didn't join back." felix said and i rolled my eyes 'cause i hated when they called me that.

"two aces, don't forget about me." jisung said winking which made minho hit him again and i couldn't help but laugh again. god i loved this group so much and that wasn't gonna change ever. even right now as i was trying to hold back the tears because that conversation meant so much to me, they still managed to make me laugh every time that i needed it.

"i feel like i've said everything i have to say. stop showing pictures and videos of me please, i beg you." i said and what did they do? show more pics of pre debut me.

"the fact that i've got most of these saved speaks volumes of me." hyunjin said, which made me drop his hand and look at him in disbelief. "it's blackmail because you have pictures of me as a baby!".

these are the discussions that are held on the dorms on a day to day basis. but either way, i wouldn't change it for anything in the world and i couldn't believe that i was brought to such a beautiful situation where i would meet my family, my friends, the ones that i would spend the rest of my days with if i could. everything felt on it's right place like i hoped it would and i could not be more thankful.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz drabbles #skz short imagines #skz scenarios #skz 9th member #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids 9th member #stray kids drabbles #skz hurt/comfort #skz angst #skz #stray kids #stray kids imagine

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l0vem41l · 11 months

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can you write like some cute head cannons for johnathan ohnn w like a short chubby female s/o like i can imagine him w someone like that !! it would be even cuter if they were like a artist or something <3

perfect.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, reader is an artist– specifically a visual artist becuz WOOO u be drawin babey!!! if u meant otherwise i am So Sorry, pre colider johnathan ohnn, terribly, horribly, and awfully sweet and cliche i Cannot Escape Myself 」

「 fem!reader, romantic relationship <3 」

↳ ft. johnathan ohnn

author's note: FIRST REQ OF THIS ACCOUNT YIPPEE!!! thank u 4 the req anon (´▽`ʃƪ) <3 hoping this is what u want! ALSO!!!! my first time writing specifically for a chubby reader insert so i hope i did ok! (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) feedback appreciated if there is any u'd like 2 share :D

▸ short chubby girlf,,, ouuughhwhhe oh my goodness,,, johnathan thinks ur absolutely adorable there is No Doubt About It!!!!!

▸ you are just the loveliest thing he's ever seen– and he'll remind you everyday.

well. okay maybe not completely verbally. there's something about being in love that makes johnathan feel like a lovestruck teenager all over again– all of a sudden, he's stumbling over the half sentences falling out of his lips and getting all red in the face while he tries to verbalize how pretty you are

he'll shut his mouth. eventually.... give him a kiss to shut him up!! it'll work! until he ends up blabbering again cuz he wants another one and gets a bit nervous about that too

▸ okay, but he's not,,, all nerves. he's able to pull himself together to show how much he appreciates you. again, physically affectionate. i feel it in my soul that he is a sucker for physical affection. with you?? it's just amplified.

thinks your height is perfect,, burying your face in his chest while he holds you in his arms? chef's kiss. secretly hoping you don't hear how embarrassingly fast his heart is pounding.

ur chubby too?? that meanz there's more to love!!!! more to embrace!!! there are no downsides to you :]]

this is how he reminds you how perfect you are in his eyes– all through touch. always gentle, always sweet. his favourite thing is when your cheek is pressed up against his chest when you're cuddling and you look up at him. he feels his brain stop every single time, his gaze meeting your pretty eyes.

you murmur a quiet, "i love you" and it takes a moment for him to say it back– not because he doesn't want to, but because it's these moments where he realizes how much he lucked out to have someone like you

▸ ARTIST GIRLF??? even better. johnathan ohnn is a scientist, through and through... but it doesn't mean he can't appreciate art when he sees it!!

"it... it's fine if i look, right?" he asks, his hand hovering over your sketchbook, waiting for your permission.

this was the first time you had ever left your sketchbook face open around him. while you were off doing something else, he had been fighting the temptation to look through it. he did understand art was personal, and he's tryin' not to accidentally overstep anything

"i mean... sure?" you say with a little shrug. "i haven't really gotten to filling it up yet so it's a little bare an–"

you barely get the words out. he's picked it up, flipping through the pages like the secrets of the universe were hidden somewhere in between.

"hey that's pretty cool!" his eyes light up as he admires the things you've created. he'll gush over your work, tryin to talk with artistic terms.

he's out here like, "i like the use of complementary colours!"

"...i only used charcoal for that." HES TRYING. not hard enough tho cuz dawg cmon. /j maybe,,, you could teach him about art?? wink wink nudge nudge >:]

he's about to flip another page– but you place your hand atop his to stop him.

"there's nothing left to see so,, uhh– i'll just take that back now." you say awkwardly. he won't fight you about it. maybe frown a bit about it– maybe some art was more personal thank he thought.

def thinks abt what was on those other pages... there was almost 100% a drawing– he was halfway to flipping the page over, he definitely saw something.

▸ politeness of not crossing boundaries aside, unfortunately he's an idiot (SLASH JAY) and doesn't know the first rule of interacting with an artist.

dreaded from anyone else, usually, but... bearable when it was him requesting it. gives you plenty of time and room to say no.

"you should draw me!" ☝️🤓

this is how you find yourself over at his apartment. he's seated on a chair across from your own, trying to figure out how you want him to pose for this drawing.

"tilt your head towards me– no, wait, not like... hold on–" you stand up, making your way over to him.

"i'm literally doing everything you're telling me to do, i don't know what you want me to d..." he trails off as you gently grasp his chin.

you suppress a giggle, watching eyes widen slightly as a strangled noise coming from his parted lips but no words but certainly no complaints.

with a firm yet soft grip, you position his head slightly and let go with a smile. "perfect. you stay right there."

GOES STILL ASF THE ENTIRE TIME SO HE DOESNT F UP UR DRAWING PROCESS HWDJFHEWUIFH bros hardly breathing

"you know," you comment, eyes focused on your sketchbook as your pencil works to draw him, "you've got a really interesting face."

the corners of his lips quirk up into a half-smile, his brow furrowing ever so slightly at your words. "thank you? y'know when you word it like that, it makes it sound like a skillfully veiled insult." johnathan quips. you're making him wonder if being considered "handsome by scientist standards" counts for anything in the eyes of an artist.

it earns a little laugh from you. "not what i meant."

your words immediately flood him with relief. you swear you hear him go "phew." what a dork.

"there's something about all your features," you continue, looking back up at him, "they just fit so perfectly on you. like everything was just meant to be there."

he falls silent for a moment, your words echoing in his mind. he wished he could work with words in the way you did.

"hey. look back up at me." you smile, holding up the paper and turning it for him to see.

"wow..." he reaches out, gently taking it from you. it takes a few moments for him to speak up again. "it's..."

"okay, hopefully?" you chime in, your hands clasped in your lap as you try your best not to anxiously fidget.

"perfect." he replies instead. "you're perfect– i mean, your work is obviously, yeah sure but you,,, you just–"

johnathan holds the paper in one hand, gesturing vaguely to you with the other. you giggle.

"well thank you."

he grins. "it was worth sitting here for like what? a few hours? man, it was hard trying to keep that position."

"johnny?"

"hm?..."

you laugh and he looks,,, confused. he awkwardly chuckles along with you.

"what? what's so funny?" he asks.

"i coulda worked without you posing like that. i've seen your face enough to work without a reference."

he watches as you flip back to the pages of the sketchbook he didn't see.

and it's him. whole pages,,, of drawing of him.

there's a glint of mischief in your eyes. "it was funny seeing you try to hold still for so long though."

▸ he finds something new to love about you every day. sometimes, he'll see all the things you do for him and try to measure up.

no matter what he does– and damn, will he do anything and everything for you– he can't help but feel like he's falling short. just a little.

after all, how do you love someone so perfect?

he certainly hasn't figured out. he could give you all the love in the universe, and he'd still think you still deserve more he's right

the night is quiet. you're on his couch, the shitty romcom you put on just to joke about with him no longer interesting either of you. your eyes are shut as he holds you in his arms, your head resting on his chest. his eyes are filled with adoration, looking at you, being all comfy and adorable in his arms.

johnathan leans down, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your forehead.

"...what was that for?" you mumble sleepily.

"nothing." there's a pause for a moment, as he tries to find the right thing to tell you– the way to phrase what's been on his mind since forever– and just ends up sighing instead. no flowery language could convey it. maybe being straightforward could help.

"you're just... perfect. y'know that?"

— reblogs always appreciated!

#me when the function has cuddling while watching a movie late at night #GRAHHH I LOVE ATSV #unedited like crazy #atsv x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #johnathan ohnn #johnathon ohnn #johnathan ohnn headcanons #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot #atsv the spot #the spot atsv #the spot x reader #the spot headcanons #the spot x y/n #even though i don't use y/n!!! teehee.

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

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in the spirit of sharing our appreciation, that bachelor ask was so good !!! I would read a whole long fic about that where maybe (bc whilst I love smut I am a slut for pining and angst) they don't fuck immediately, hob really does tell dream stories all whilst trying to ignore how looking at dream too long makes everything else fade away and give him butterflies or how dream begins to get surprisingly touchy feely as the week goes on but he can't possibly be interested in hob, after all he agreed to hear hob's success stories in the interest of believing he could meet his (female) true love on this show. (I've never seen the bachelor don't laugh lol) anyway it carries on like this, dream ramping up his affections, thinking he's being soooo obvious, he cannot believe hob is not taking the bait, when it hits him ! It's not that hob isn't picking up on dreams signals, he just. does not want that. so he suddenly stops (he's soooo embarrassed, of course hob knew what dream was doing, he probably knew all along 😖🤦🏻 he's just not into him) and then hob is like.... Have I done something to upset you? Etc anyway it all comes to a head and they fuck nasty, are missing alllll night and til early afternoon the next day when they emerge looking thoroughly well fucked, dream is actually amazingly pleasant?????? clearly just needed to release some tension.... And the show people are like. Uhhhh. You haven't been hitting it off with any of the contestants how are we supposed to explain all these fucking hickies on the show??? which is where hob as mystery contestant comes in. Anyway I didn't mean to write that much, just wanted to say that I looooooved that idea as someone who loves delicious angst and pining etc etc (which feels very on brand for our two centuries old idiots who've been on multiple dates, and yet...) It has sooo much potential !! I also liked it just as they wrote it, hob sucking dream off on the first night was so unexpected but a welcome change from the uncertainty and self consciousness of what I usually like. Just wanted to share how as an idea it really has legs - so thank you to them for sending it in, I really enjoyed it !! Would love to read more 💓

Thank you so much for developing this with a little angsty twist anon!!! I love it. Misunderstandings are so delicious. Can you imagine being another contestant watching all of this going down? Alsksjsjsj that's quality entertainment tbh. And I just really love the idea of hopeless romantic Hob working on this show because he's sooo into romance and shmoopy love stories - and he ends up in his own love story which is spiralling like crazy, getting so dramatic, causing Hob so much angst. It's all worth it of course. Falling in love with Dream was really the best thing Hob ever could have done <3

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

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Break Next Weekend (Aug 8 - 11)

Hey all!!! Just an heads up that next weekend I will be unavailable and my blog will be... quieter than usual!!! I'm going to be at the @ficwritersretreat AND I'M SO HUMBLED AND HONOURED that they let me come even though I'm not much of a writer LOL. I'm SO excited because this is my BIG SUMMER TRIP this year, I'm gonna reunite with some of the 221B Con Peeps I met years ago, AND it will also probably be the only one I will have for the next 2 years LOL 🙃

SO ALL THAT SAID, I'm going to queue up "scheduled" posts that I usually have:

Five Fics Friday for Aug 9 is already queued up and WILL BE A NEW LIST. Don't want to mess up the streak, I'm almost at 5 years LOL.

Sunday Aug 11 will be a REBLOG scheduled instead of a new list. I don't have time this week to compile the next list since I'll be prepping for my trip (yes I am neurotic but I am SUPER ANXIOUS ALREADY about driving to somewhere I haven't been before, so I'm trying to minimize that as much as possible). Y'all's understanding is appreciated.

NO ASKS WILL BE ANSWERED FOR FILLER CONTENT ON THE ABOVE DAYS, but the ask box will remain open during that time. So sadly the content will be dwindled a bit but I hope you guys will still enjoy the blog :)

I want to take in as much as I can while I'm at the retreat, and OF COURSE I'll have time online if I choose to not do an activity, but I REALLY just... want to be present... I have a hard time these days "being present" when I'm in groups because of my social anxiety and in turn my self-esteem thinks everyone hates me LOL. And my social battery dies quickly these days so... trying my best hahaha.

ANYWAY, I will probably only be online to file my blog each night but OF COURSE since I'm sharing a room I want to respect my roomie!!

THAT ALL SAID, I'm super excited to go and I am looking forward to finally meeting some people for the first time!!

AND THEN AS AN ASIDE, a couple weeks later I will probably also take a couple weeks' break during my 2 weeks summer holidays. Haven't decided yet.

Thank you all for your understanding and I appreciate y'all!! *HUGS*

#my ramblings #about me #my blog #blog things #to delete later

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sofiaispunk · 1 year

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dbf!Joel Miller x Reader - Part 5

a/n: Here's the promised longer chapter. I really really do appreciate your support on this series. I hope you guys are doing good and please share your ideas and thoughts of how you want this series to go. Without further ado... enjoyyyy

Tommy leaned forward, "You know, (Y/N) I've been thinking. You might just be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Tommy and you sat across from each other at the small table in the coffee shop, sipping on your drinks and chatting. You’ve been getting to know each other for about an hour, laughing and sharing stories and you must admit, you had an amazing time with Tommy.

Your conversation was flowing effortlessly and Tommy had a way of making you laugh, his genuine kindness shone through every word he spoke.

You blushed and tried to laugh it off. "Oh, please. You're just saying that because you want another date."

Tommy grinned. "Well, you caught me. I do want another date. But I also mean it. You're stunning."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in her stomach. "Thank you, Tommy. You're pretty easy on the eyes, yourself."

Tommy chuckles. "Just easy on the eyes, huh? Last time i checked I was fucking gorgeous, but I'll take it. But really, I'm having a great time with you. I haven't laughed this much in ages."

You rolled your eyes at that, continuing to enjoy your conversation and the warm ambiance, when you got distracted. Your eyes wandered to the scene unfolding just outside the window. A woman with familiar features was engaged in an intimate conversation with a man. Your heart skipped a beat, your gaze fixated on the woman's face.

“Tommy, look. Isn't that... Irene?” you whispered.

Tommy turned his head, his eyes following your gaze. He squinted, trying to make out the figures outside. But your curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't resist the urge to investigate further. Leaving your coffee aside, you rose from your seat and headed towards the door, with Tommy following close behind.

You approached the couple outside with a respectable distance to not get noticed. The woman turned slightly, revealing her face unmistakably. It was Irene, Joel's wife, engaged in an intimate kiss with the man. Your eyes widened, shock coursing through your veins.

“Tommy, are you seeing this? That's 100% Irene. What is she doing with that man?” your voice was filled with disbelief.

Tommy's jaw tightened, his features hardening. ”I cant believe she would do this in public, for everyone to witness. Un-fucking-believable.” He seethed through gritted teeth.

“Wait, you knew? How long has this been going on?" you looked at him in surprise.

Tommy's voice softened as he reached out, gently squeezing your hand, his gaze filled with empathy. You accepted his hand, allowing Tommy to guide you back into the coffee shop.

"About a year now," Tommy said, taking a sip of his coffee, as you both sat down again. "Joel found out a few months ago, but he hasn't confronted her yet. I think he's still trying to figure out what to do."

You immediately felt a pang of sympathy for Joel. It was clear that he was going through a tough time, and you couldn't imagine how he must be feeling. "That's really tough. I don't know how he's managing to keep it together," you said.

Tommy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he's trying to protect Sarah as well. He doesn't want her to find out about what's going on between her parents. It's a really messed up situation."

You felt a wave of sadness wash over you. You wished there was something you could do to help Joel, but you didn't know what. You decided to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on the negative. "So, you wanted to go to the park, right?" you asked.

After finishing your coffees, you found yourselves strolling through a picturesque park. The park was adorned with lush greenery, vibrant flowers, and the sound of chirping birds filled the air. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the gentle breeze, creating a serene atmosphere.

As you continued to stroll alongside Tommy, your mind was filled with well.. pretty much just Joel. You couldn't help but think about how Irene could do such a thing to Joel. He deserved so much better than her. Joel was always there for everyone, a genuinely kind and caring person. You held yourself tightly, reminding yourself that you were on a date with Tommy, not Joel. You had made a choice to give Tommy a chance, to explore what could be between you. Yet, your heart seemed to have a mind of its own, constantly bringing you back to thoughts of Joel. You scolded yourself internally, determined to stay present and focused on Tommy. You couldn't deny that talking to him was effortless, fun even, and the conversation between you two flowed naturally. Tommy was undeniably a nice and good-looking guy, and anyone would be lucky to have his attention.

But deep down, you felt this tinge of disappointment in yourself. You wanted to feel that spark so badly, that undeniable chemistry that would ignite something more. You had hoped that this date would provide the clarity you needed, a chance to move on from your infatuation with Joel. Yet, as much as you enjoyed Tommy's company, that spark remained elusive.

You glanced at Tommy, who was now joking about a squirrel running across your path. He had a way of effortlessly bringing a smile to your face, and you couldn't deny the genuine connection you two shared. But that spark, that magnetic pull you longed for, seemed absent. Why couldn't you just let go and give Tommy a damn chance?

Lost in your own internal battle, you barely registered the last words of Tommy's story. He turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and curiosity. "What about you? Have you ever had a similar childhood adventure?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine interest.

You snapped back to reality, realizing you had zoned out, again. So you forced a smile, trying your best to appear engaged. "Oh, uh, not quite as adventurous as yours," you replied with a hint of self-deprecation. "But I do have a few funny memories from my childhood. Maybe I'll share one with you someday."

Tommy's smile widened, and he gently nudged your shoulder. "I'd love to hear all about them, sweetheart. We've got plenty of time to create new memories together."

Suddenly your eyes lit up with childlike excitement, as you spotted the pair of swings in the distance.

"Oh, look! The swings! I haven't been on one in ages. Care to join me?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Well, sweetheart, I must warn you, I have a reputation for being the Swing King. Are you ready to witness my incredible swinging skills?"

You laughed, playfully nudging him. "Oh really, Swing King? Now that’s just bad wording. But show me what you've got!"

The two of you raced to the swings, and soon enough, you were soaring through the air, your laughter mingling with the gentle breeze. Tommy swung higher and higher, effortlessly pushing you to new heights of exhilaration, grateful and relieved from the distraction of your own thoughts.

Your carefree laughter filled the park, drawing the attention of other park-goers who couldn't help but smile at the infectious joy radiating from the pair.

As the evening drew to a close, Tommy drove you back to your house. The car ride with Tommy was, as expected, an absolute blast, with laughter and banter filling the air. You chatted away like old friends and shared old stories and jokes. The car slowed down, coming to a gentle stop in front of your home.

"Tommy, I-" you started to say, turning towards him but he interrupted you with a soft kiss.

The kiss was gentle but full of passion, and you felt your whole-body tingle with surprise. You immediately pulled away, feeling slightly breathless.

Tommy smiled at you, his eyes full of warmth. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist."

Your mind was spinning as you processed the unexpected kiss. You had enjoyed your time with Tommy, and a kiss after a fun date was perfectly normal, right?

You backed up slightly, your eyes still locked with Tommy's, who was searching for answers. "Tommy, I... I didn't expect that," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Tommy's expression softened, and he reached out to gently hold your hands. “I'm sorry if I crossed a line. I just... I couldn't help myself. You're amazing, and I've really enjoyed getting to know you today."

Your conflicting emotions swirled within you once again making your head hurt.

"Tommy, I... I had a great time today too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I have to be honest with you. I need time to figure things out and sort through my feelings. I don't want to rush into anything without being certain."

Tommy nodded and reached out to you, gently squeezing your hand. "It's important to me that you're happy. I care about you, and I want what's best for you. Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'm here."

You felt a pang of regret, knowing that you may be letting a good opportunity slip away. But you also knew that you couldn't deny your true feelings. You clenched your fists, frustrated at your own inability to feel what you were "supposed" to feel. It wasn't fair to Tommy, who had been nothing but kind and understanding. He deserved someone who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly. You felt guilty for not being able to give him that. "Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate your understanding. You're a great guy, and I hope we can still be friends."

Tommy's expression fell, but he quickly recovered and leaned back in his seat. "Friends it is then." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll call you soon." He flashed you a charming smile before you got out of the car and starting walking over to your house.

The mix of emotions you felt, threatened to overwhelm you as you watched Tommy drive off but you didn’t had time to dwell on your whirlwind of emotions that’s been going on in your head and sort them because you spotted Sarah sitting alone on the sidewalk across the street. There was a sadness in Sarah's eyes that tugged at your heart, and you hurried over to her.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" you asked with concern.

Sarah sniffled and wiped away a tear. "It’s my parents. They are fighting again. It got really bad, and I just couldn't bear to be in the same house anymore."

Your heart sank at her words. You knew how difficult it must be for Sarah to witness her parents' constant conflicts. You put your arm around Sarah, offering her comfort. "I'm here for you, Sarah. You don't have to go through this alone."

Sarah nodded, her voice trembling. "It's been happening more and more lately."

You gently squeezed Sarah's hand. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. It's not easy to see your parents going through this."

Sarah wiped away another tear. "I just wish they could stop fighting. It hurts so much."

You couldn’t help but hug Sarah tighter, offering her support. "I know it hurts but remember that it's not your fault. Sometimes grown-ups have their own problems, and it's not something we can fix. But we can be there for each other."

Sarah nodded, the tiniest faint of smile forming on her face. "Thank you. I'm glad I have you as my friend."

The two of you stood there for a moment, finding solace in each other's presence, when suddenly the door swung open and Joel stepped out onto the porch. His eyes were weary, but his expression softened as he saw his daughter. He pulled her into a tight embrace, murmuring words of reassurance and apology. Sarah, finding comfort in her father's words, disappeared into the house, after bidding you goodbye, leaving you and Joel alone in the fading light of the evening.

"Thanks for talking to Sarah earlier. She really needed someone to be there for her."

You nodded, your eyes filled with empathy. "Of course, Joel. You know I'm always here for her, for both of you."

Joel let out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Honestly, I feel like such a shitty dad sometimes. Irene and I, we argue so much, and it's affecting Sarah. I just don't know how to protect her from all of this anymore.”

Your gaze shifted to Joel's hand, noticing the pink glittery nails that adorned his fingertips. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You know, Joel, I think you're an amazing dad. Look at those nails. Three days ago, Sarah painted them on you, and you're still proudly wearing them. That's love, Joel. You're willing to go the extra mile to make your daughter happy, even if it means sporting some glittery nails."

Joel chuckled, glancing down at his nails. "Yeah, she insisted on it, and I couldn't say no. Seeing her smile when she painted them was priceless. It's the little things, isn't it?"

You nodded, a warmth spreading through your chest. "Exactly, Joel. It's those little moments that matter the most. Sarah knows she has a dad who loves her unconditionally, even in the midst of all the challenges. And that, my friend, makes you an incredible father."

Joel's eyes met yours gratitude and a hint of amusement twinkling within them. “You know, you're something special, right?“ he began, and something in the air shifted, you were not sure what, but the atmosphere between Joel and you became charged with a newfound electricity, crackling with unspoken desires. Time seemed to slow down, your hearts beating in sync, as the unspoken tension between you became palpable. "I can't help but feel that you deserve so much more than what you settled for." His voice suddenly grew serious, his eyes searching yours.

You looked at him, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "More than Tommy?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel just looked at you, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Tommy’s great. I just mean you deserve someone …Someone who would cherish you, who would give you the world," he replied, his words carrying a weight that hung low in the air. "Someone who sees your beauty, both inside and out, and appreciates every intricate detail that makes you who you are. " In this moment you yearned for his touch, his affection, but the fear of crossing boundaries had kept you at arm's length.

"Someone like... you?" you whispered, your voice laden with longing.

Joel's eyes held a mixture of longing and regret as he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "Darlin’, you have no idea how much I wish I could be that someone," he confessed, his voice filled with a yearning that mirrored your own. "But – “

You didn’t wait for the but. For the doubts and restriction, quite frankly you had enough of all that. In this moment all the logic were defied and all that mattered was Joel and he wanted you.

So, in a moment of both vulnerability and bravery, you leaned in, your lips gently brushing against Joel's.

Joel's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly surrendered to the sweet intoxication of the kiss. His lips responded with equal fervor, a perfect harmony of longing and surrender. The world around you faded into the background as you lost yourselves in the embrace, your souls entwined in a dance that defied time and logic. As the kiss got more heated, more frantic and Joels grip tightening around your waist, you both understood the complexities of your situation, the obstacles that stood in your path. But in that moment, none of it mattered. You were simply two souls, baring your hearts to each other under the moonlit sky.

You pulled away slowly, your breaths mingling in the air as your eyes locked, mirroring the intensity of your emotions. Words were no longer necessary; your hearts spoke volumes in the silence that enveloped them.

Your fingers trembled against Joel's cheek as you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and certainty, " I- I am sorry."

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "Don’t be."

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

Text

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 1960

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, dear lord.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, darlin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

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

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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mcufan72 · 1 year

Text

Cold winter days, a woman on a bench, a stranger in the park...

An Encounter in Winter ❄️

Loki and female reader (18+)

Chapter 17

Chapter 16

18+/adult themes/talking/flirting/slow burn/fluff/angst/smut

Warnings: angst, irritation, trust issues, not much smut, some cockwarming, soft!dom/sub vibes, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, fluff, sweet romantic stuff because I needed it, maybe still some secrets and life-changing decisions …

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter... there will be just one more chapter and/or an epilogue, I haven't decided yet. In advance, a big thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented (publicly or privately) and reblogged my story! I saw and see all of you guys and I love and appreciate you!🫶🏻💖

'Please meet me tomorrow in the park at our bench, my love'

"Sure, but why are you afraid to ask me for it?" and while questioning him you turned your head again towards him when you heard him say:

'In the afternoon, Snowflake. Same time, same place…'

The thing was, you heard him, loud and clear…but his lips didn't move an inch…

"Lo, what is going on here?" You tossed the magazine onto the table, your eyes widening fearingly.

"I don't know", Loki answered hesitantly. His last plea to meet him tomorrow in the afternoon he sent willingly to your mind to check if it really works. And to his astonishment, it did.

"Why…why can I… I mean how? How do you speak to me without… talking? Do I…do I hear your… thoughts? Can…can you hear mine? Oh my goodness…", and you jumped off the sofa and walked a few steps toward the window, away from Loki. It scared you and you felt nauseous.

"I swear, Snowflake, I don't know what's going on. You…you can hear me? In your head? I didn't know…"

"What did you not know? And come on, Lo… answer my question! Can you read or see or hear the thoughts and minds of others? Can you read or hear mine? Can you? And why didn't you tell me about it?"

You almost yelled at him. You didn't want to yell at him but you were so scared right now.

"Snowflake…"

"Tell me, Laufeyson…can you?"

Your face hardening you stared at him, anxiety in your eyes. You knew he had a lot of magical abilities and you knew, reading minds was one of them. But you never had any reason to think further about it and never discussed it. Until now.

Loki felt your insecurity and upcoming panic. He wanted to hug and comfort you, he didn't want to be the reason for you feeling that bad.

"My love please… yes, yes I can but…"

"Did you ever…ever read mine? Did you ever infiltrate my mind or my head?" You growled at him, your voice shaking with anger and fear and you locked up your tears. You never wanted to be manipulated again.

"No, my love, never. Why should I? I can't even do that without permission and physical contact. I just can manipulate someone with spoken words…and I never intended to manipulate you! I know how harmful and destructive this can be from my own experience. I would never do this to you! Please, darling, don't back away from me. You know I love you…"

"We had a lot of physical contact in the last months, Laufeyson!"

Tears were brimming in your eyes. Could you still trust him? He was very secretive since he came back from the mission. The phone call when you came back from the bathroom, he ended immediately as soon as he recognised you were entering the room. The delayed return from the recent mission and also it seemed he hid something from you. What did it all mean? Were you wrong about him? Everything with him was perfect, felt perfect. Maybe too perfect to be true or to be everlasting? But the things you've shared so far, the feelings you had for each other, the bond… all of this couldn't be a lie, could it?

The way you addressed him was painful for Loki. You never talked to him like this and never have you been that cold. Nonetheless, Loki made a step forward to take your hands in his to comfort you. But you backed away from him. You had never done it before and it hurt him deeply.

"Snowflake please, I don't know why you can hear me in your head. It…it must be our bond. I didn't even know that it would be that strong, that it could give you this ability. Please believe me, I'm as surprised as you are…", he made another step towards you and you backed away again.

"Surprised? Surprised?", you said hysterically. "Are you fucking kidding me, Loki? Surprised? So you want to tell me you didn't know about it? I'm not that naive anymore. I don't believe in everything that anyone else tells me about. I just don't know what I should believe in right now or not…or if I can still trust you." You regretted your words exactly the moment you fired them at Loki.

Loki felt like you had cut his heart out of his ribcage. Your words hit him like the sharpest swords. But he held his composure. He knew you didn't mean it…he hoped you did not. You told him every day how much you loved him and he was convinced this love wouldn't just fade away because of this difficult situation. If so, what would be the value of the love you had for each other? You both knew difficult times would come sooner or later. The honeymoon phase of your relationship wouldn't last forever…not to talk about the span of 4000 years. But maybe you never wanted to spend such a long time with him. He still didn't know if you had made a decision yet. Maybe this crisis would end everything you two shared.

"I didn't do it on purpose, Snowflake! I did it just with my last request, asking you to meet me tomorrow at our bench. Just to test us. To see if it really works. Please believe me. Please trust me, my love, I beg you…", he said desperately.

You shook your head vehemently and made further steps backwards.

"I need to be alone… I need…some alone time… don't…don't touch me, Lo. Please, leave me alone…"

"I won't leave you alone, my love. Not when you're in a state like this…"

"Okay, then I go…I go and you won't follow me, okay? Don't. Follow. Me!" You raised both hands in defiance.

"Snowflake… no…where…where are you going?"

"Away…I go … away… just away", you gestured with one hand toward the door, turned around and left the apartment.

"Snowflake, nooo…don't go, please!", but you ignored him and closed the entrance door behind you.

You didn't intend to leave the tower, not alone in the middle of the night. You headed to the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor where the roof terrace was. You needed fresh air. Lots of it. You didn't really know why you reacted how you reacted. It wasn't Loki's fault but you treated him like it was his. You knew you did him wrong and that you had hurt him deeply. But the feeling of maybe being manipulated again triggered old anxieties and feelings of emotionally depending on a man again and made you act wrong. Stephen Strange, the most manipulative asshole you had met in your life, had broken so much inside of you when you were engaged to him and the only thing you knew was that no man would do this to you ever again. At the same time, you knew Loki would never do something like this to you. He loved and adored you in a way you never expected someone would ever love and adore you.

You were just confused and overwhelmed, close to freaking out. Everything was too much today and this made you react unfairly. Your sister was back in your life, Loki's return from the mission which took longer than planned, the breathtaking sex with him after a long time disconnected because of the mission, and then finally you found out that you were able to hear his thoughts. It was just too much.

Even so, could you still trust him? Did he really not know that you might be able to hear his thoughts? Was the bond that strong? But why didn't Loki know about that fact? Did no one before him have this experience? Maybe not, because maybe never before a Jotun was in a relationship and shared a bond with an ordinary mortal like you. A mortal girl from Earth without any magical abilities, without any magic at all. The only thing that might make you special was your gut feeling that mostly never betrayed you. And this gut feeling told you now, Loki didn't know anything about that matter, that he had told you the truth. And you felt his heartbeat, nervous, strong, beating faster than usual and full of pain. He was hurting and you were causing it and you knew he didn't deserve your cruel behaviour.

Nothing of this was your fault but neither was Loki's. You tried to breathe through the fist squeezing your heart and swallowed down your tears. You decided to go back to your apartment and talk to him. You had to clear the whole situation. You needed to understand what had happened and what it would mean for the future now. A future you still wanted to spend together with Loki, your lover, the only worthy owner of your body, soul, heart… and thoughts. You loved and trusted him endlessly and you just hoped he'd understand your feelings, insecurities and anxieties and your motives for why you had been so mean to him.

Loki's eyes welled up with tears when you had left. The urge to follow you overtook him but he knew it was better to leave you alone now. He was afraid you could leave the tower and would walk to the park, the place you loved most and that always calmed you down. But you'd never go there alone in the middle of the night. You weren't that careless. He felt your heartbeat. It was thumping fast, restless, anxious. Of course, you were close to freaking out. Abilities like this could be frightening especially when you're not used to it. He was used to those abilities since he was a child, you were not. His mother told and taught him everything he knew about magic and magical abilities and now it was his turn to help you with it. He just hoped you would come back to him soon so you two could clear the issue.

He went to the bedroom and took the snow globe into his hand and shook it. He loved to watch the flakes twirling inside of it and got deeply lost in thoughts. Loki never expected this could ever happen, that you could be such a sensitive, good receiver of his thoughts. He had never heard about this and that a Midgardian inhabitant would be able to develop this ability. Maybe he still didn't know enough about Midgardians. And maybe it was the bond he had with you that had opened up your mind to it. He was restless and helpless, and he felt guilty too. He never wanted to cause any harm or trouble to you. He put the snowglobe back onto his bedside table and opened its drawer. He took out a small wooden box and ran his fingers over it.

He knew it was a risk and he might overwhelm you again. But he had to, there was no way to wait any longer. You were already suspicious and he didn't know how to hide it any longer. He might ruin it all but he had to take this risk. It seems your relationship has to be like this, no detours, no secrets, always straight to the point.

"Loki, can we talk?"

He flinched when he heard your voice and turned quickly around to face you, hastily hiding the box behind his back.

"You're back… thanks to the Norns you're back. Of course, we can talk, my love."

"What are you hiding from me, Loki?" you asked him quietly and tilted your chin up as walking slowly toward him.

"Nothing, my love", he answered quickly and instead of the wooden box he now held the snow globe in his hand, showing it to you. Magic could be such a wonderful gift.

"I just watched the flakes twirling around … you know how much I love this gift of yours."

"Yes, I do…", you answered softly. What for God's sake was he hiding?

"I'm sorry for freaking out and being mean to you…but I became anxious and worried. I still trust you, Lo… I'm just so afraid. Please forgive me…I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you, I love you, Lo!"

"I know my Lady Snowflake. There's nothing to forgive. I get that you're scared… but please don't be afraid. I won't leave you alone with that", he said softly and put the snow globe back onto the bedside table before he made some steps towards the spot you were standing. This time you didn't back away.

"May I hug you, my love?"

You just nodded silently because tears and a lump in your throat were disabling you to speak. The moment you felt his arms around you, you let your tears flow and nuzzled your face into his chest, his soft chest hair tickling your nose. His warmth and his familiar scent were calming you down immediately in a way only he could do it. You slung your arms around his waist and hugged him tightly while he comforted you gently.

"Shhhh shh, my love, I'm here…I'm here. I'll help you to handle it, I promise. It's not as terrifying as you might think right now. I'll teach you everything and you'll be able to control it."

"Why do I have this ability, Lo? I don't understand it but I want to understand it", you asked him with a tear-choked voice.

"I'm not sure, Snowflake. I just think you have a talent for it and you're a good and sensitive receiver…and I'll teach you to be a good sender as well. And I think our bond triggered your talent. We'll find a way to make you feel comfortable with it."

"Yeah, Lo. With your help I'll make it", you answered sobbingly.

"You will", Loki whispered against the crown of your head and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so exhausted, Lo. Can we go to sleep? I just want to go to sleep."

"Sure, my love. Come, lay down with me… or do you prefer to sleep alone tonight?"

"Are you kidding me, baby? You know how bad my sleep is without you by my side."

Loki's face stretched in a smile of relief and you both took off your clothes and crawled into the bed under the duvets. Like every night he was spooning you and you were happy and grateful to have him back. Still, it was the first night together after the mission and nothing felt better than his skin on yours and the feeling of his muscled body wrapping yours was irreplaceable. You were already very sleepy but you needed to feel him again. You had recognised his boner nudging against your buttocks and you craved for him. You always craved your adorable lover.

"Lo?"

"Hmmhmm?"

"I need you."

"Aren't you too tired, Snowflake?"

"Yeesss…." ,you nearly drifted away into slumber. "Don't want to move… just wanna feel…you….Let me…warm you", you murmured tiredly.

"Are you sure, my love? Do you really want to do that? Because I can't promise I won't cum when I'm inside of you while you might already sleep." He would never take advantage of your sleepiness.

"…I want it, Lo…please…enter me, please…", you mumbled silently and sleepy.

"Snowflake…"

"Lo, please…"

You were dripping wet and slick so Loki had no problems slipping his erect length into your tunnel. Your cunt flattered his cock and your contractions, caused by him tenderly playing with your nipples, made him even harder. You must still trust and love him, otherwise, you wouldn't have allowed him to own you this way. He never dared ask you to warm his cock but secretly it was one of the things he had dreamt of. But he was insecure if you would accept such possessiveness.

"Norns, Snowflake…you feel so good."

He moaned whispering to your ear and kissed your nape. His ass tensed up delightfully though he barely moved. He just bathed in the feeling of your warm cunt engulfing and convulsing about his sensitive tip and enjoyed the blissful feeling of your beautiful body in his arms.

"You're being such a good girl for me" he whispered, close to tipple over the edge.

He wasn't able to stand this feeling any longer and despite all efforts to hold himself back, he came inside of you. He gasped and moaned silently but violently. His orgasm was intense and he tightened his grip around you. A silent, content sigh escaped your throat and from your light slumber, you drifted into a deep sleep as if you just had waited for him to find his relief in you.

"I love you so much, Snowflake." Still buried inside of you Loki fell asleep too, hoping the things he had planned would be successful.

In the morning when you woke up, Loki had already left the bed and the apartment. You stretched your limbs and yawned heartily. You missed the warmth of Loki's body but you still felt his seed dripping out of you and a familiar stickiness between your thighs. You looked at the empty space next to you but Loki had left something for you on his pillow. A smile curved your lips. There was a green rose and a note.

Good morning, my love.

I hope you slept well. I definitely did. With you in my arms, my sleep is always the best. I'm sorry for the mess I've left between your beautiful legs but you were so cute while still sleeping and I didn't want to disturb my Goddess' sleep. Also…you must know it was fantastic with you and you didn't dream it…if you know what I mean. You've been such a good girl for me and I have to thank you for last night. Thank you for letting me be possessive over you. I adore you, my Queen and next time I'll worship you and every little inch of your gorgeous body as you deserve to be worshipped!

Please don't be mad at me that I've already left but I have some things to be done before we have our date in the park.

I love you endlessly, my Goddess and I can't wait to see you in the afternoon. Same time, same place. Please come, my love, my pretty Snowflake. I'll be waiting for you.

In eternal, devoted love,

Loki

His words were so sweet and the thought about what had happened last night while cuddling naked to sleep, made you blush. You absolutely enjoyed it and you were utterly happy that Loki enjoyed it, too. You two definitely have to do it again. You sniffed at the beautiful rose, left the bed and took a long hot shower. You got dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and headed to the kitchen.

Thor and Jane, Tony and Bruce were already there and you were happy that you weren't alone and could have breakfast with them together. Yesterday's events still lingered in your mind. You couldn't wait for the afternoon when you would see Loki again and hopefully, you were getting some answers to your questions…and to your special request, you had for Loki. The only thing that bothered you was Jane and Thor stared at you grinning and exchanging knowing gazes. But you didn't want to ask them why they behaved like that, maybe you would do it later, in the evening after dinner with your sister and her family.

The day until afternoon went by quickly and was filled with lots of work in the lab like always when your friends had returned from a mission. After finishing work you changed your clothes. It was a warm autumn afternoon and you put on a flowery dress, which exposed your cleavage and your legs just the way Loki loved it and combined it with colour-fitting green ballerinas. You wanted to look pretty for him. This date was going to be very important, so it seemed.

You tidied your hair, put Loki's rose behind your ear and fixed it with a hairpin, diffused some of your favourite perfume behind your ears and on your wrists, grabbed your purse and left the building and walked to the park. You hadn't seen Loki all day and now you were excited to meet him. Something mysterious lingered in the air, something meaningful and changing.

After a short walk, you arrived at the park, your bench and Loki already in sight. You became nervous as a teenager who was going to meet her first crush for the first time and your cheeks blushed. You could already see from afar how stunning he looked, sitting on the bench, waiting for you as promised and you swallowed thickly.

Loki was dressed in black trousers, black patent shoes, the waistcoat with the snake motif woven into the fabric, an emerald green tie with a gold tie pin and a crisp white shirt. You would love to see it halfway open with rolled-up sleeves but today he wore it super chic and with golden cufflinks. You preferred his hair all curly and soft but today his black mane was properly styled and more wavy than curly. His perfect side profile, his straight nose, the chiselled jaw and cheekbones, his soft lips and celestial blue eyes, his slender long legs, one crossed over the other and the most important reason why you loved him so much, his big soft heart, his loving nature, his mentally and physically strength, his will to be together with you and endure you …this whole package made your legs wobbly and your heart flutters and you gasped inwardly.

If you weren't already in love with him, you would fall for him here and now. You still couldn't believe that this gorgeous man was yours and still… he had a secret and suddenly you were afraid he would want to end your relationship. It was an irrational worry but what if not? Concern overtook you and the smile you had on your face slowly faded away.

"May I?" You asked him shyly when you had arrived at your bench where he was waiting for you. Your hands were sweaty as if you would address him for the very first time.

"Snowflake!… of course, please take a seat!"

He was as nervous as you were and he rose from the bench to welcome you. His smooth dark voice caused goosebumps on your skin like whenever he spoke to you like this but it also calms you down a little bit. He took your hand in his and gave a soft kiss on your knuckles. He was still a perfect gentleman and treated you like his princess and goddess. A tear ran down your cheek and you were shaking with excitement. You felt how nervous he was, his hands were trembling and you wanted to hug him so badly.

"Thank you, Sir. Normally I don't do that…" you chuckled and squeezed his hand gently.

"Normally you don't… but now you do!", and Loki grinned smugly at you.

Your familiar scent and the powdery aroma of your perfume calmed him down a little bit. He tried to hide his growing insecurity and upcoming panic and also the feeling of what nestled in his pocket, burning a hole into his flesh. Not literally, of course, but the urge to make his wishes come true grew with every second.

"Please, let us sit down, my Lady!"

"I love to, Sir!"

You both sat down simultaneously, facing each other and Loki caressed the back of your hands. With his thumb, he wiped away the tear from your cheek.

"Do you feel good, my love?"

"I'm not sure. There's something going on, I guess." You could barely breathe.

"Yeah, maybe…" Loki's mouth was drier than the Gobi Desert and his heart thumped fast against his chest. He still held your hands in his and he felt you trembling.

"You look gorgeous, my love!"

"You look ravishing, my beautiful god. It seems you have something special in mind…"

"Yes, I have. I want to tell… no… ask you something…for…quite a while now."

"Oh…me too, Lo"

"Oh…really?"

You looked at each other curiously, quizzically and shyly smiling at each other, not knowing what to say next.

"Well, please you first, my Lady!"

"Noo, you first. You asked me for this date so you have the privilege to begin. What I've to tell you can wait, Sir."

You were close to crying because maybe your request wasn't relevant anymore. Why were you so afraid?

Loki took a deep breath before he spoke again.

"You…you know how much I love you, don't you?" He stammered.

Why was this so difficult? He just wanted to ask you something so why was he so nervous? He was a prince, a warrior, a god but now he was scared like a little boy. Why? It couldn't be that hard to ask you a simple question!

You just nodded silently, smiling at your lover. The lump in your throat and the dryness in your mouth made you unable to speak. Loki mustered all of his courage and began to talk.

"I still remember the day when you addressed me for the first time. Here, last winter, the lonely woman from the bench next to me. You looked so cute with your beanie with the green bobble and you were so sweet and nervous. Right from the beginning I felt drawn to you and you trusted me that much without knowing me. The way you listened and talked to me, the way you accepted me with all my insecurities and flaws was and still is incredible.

I never thought I would find someone like you. A woman who allows me to be my true self. You never judged me, never hated me for my past and the things I did. The greatest gift ever is that you love me for who I am. I always thought I'm a monster but you showed me I am not, that I'm worthy of love and acceptance. You make me feel safe and content and I also found the courage to walk around in my true form…yeah, just in Norway and in private but…I don't feel bad about it anymore and to know that you love and appreciate me in both appearances means the universe to me.

As you know before I met you I didn't believe in love anymore or that I would ever share the bond with someone but now I do believe in love and I never want to lose you. I already wanted to ask you when we were in Norway. Everything was perfect there. You, I, the evenings with you on the jetty… but there was a little detail missing and I couldn't ask you without it.

I'm still sure I'm not worthy of you, I don't deserve you but I know I don't want to live without you anymore. I belong to you and you own me in every way, my heart is yours forever. The only thing I can ask you for is… my Lady please allow me… allow me to be your husband. I would love to be your husband."

Your eyes widened and teared up like his. All those lovely things he just had said. Did he just propose? He did, right? Your face lit up and you fell around his neck.

"Yes, yes, yes, thousand times yes Lo!", you answered him overjoyed.

You cupped his face with your hands and kissed him longingly, again and again. Loki wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulled you closer to him and reciprocated your kisses. When you both had your fill of each other you broke the kiss to catch some breath and you smiled brightly at each other.

"I absolutely allow you to be my husband I insist! …and I want to be your wife and I want to belong to you forever. Words cannot express what I feel right now, Lo. All I can say now is thank you. Thank you for loving me and thank you for making me happy and I can believe in love again. I love you so much, my precious baby, Norns I love you…"

He slid down from the bench and knelt on one knee in front of you. He fidgeted something out of his pocket and presented it to you in his palm.

"This is for you, my Queen. I would be honored if you accept my little gift."

In front of you knelt the love of your life, and never before it has been clearer than now that he was a prince. His proposal was perfect, elegant and respectful. How could you ever doubt his love? How could you not accept this beautiful gift? It was a wooden box, nearly black like ebony, decorated with delicate carvings of snakes and creatures you had never seen before and also different lines that reminded you of the lines which adorned Loki's skin when he was in his Jotun form. It was wonderfully crafted and it seemed to be ancient and not from this planet. Realization slowly hit you why Loki had returned from the mission later than expected.

"This is amazing, Lo! Thank you so much. Never before have I seen something as beautiful!"

You smiled brightly and caressed his cheek. He leaned into your hand but the look in his eyes was a mixture of tenderness and waiting. You looked quizzically at him. What was he waiting for?

'Open it my love'

You heard his voice in your head and did what he asked you for. When you had opened the lid a loud gasp escaped your throat and you covered your mouth with one hand. In the box was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, embedded in black velvet. It was made of pure gold, with a big diamond in the centre, surrounded by small white diamonds which looked like little snowflakes. The big diamond in the middle was turquoise-blue with a shimmer of green, depending on the lighting. It seemed the Northern Lights were caught in it.

'Like my dress…it has the colour of my ball gown'

'You've worn it when I kissed you for the very first time…I'll never forget this moment '

"I don't deserve such a lovely ring, Lo" you whispered.

"The ring is worthy of a queen. And you, my love are a queen and more than this, you're my goddess and no woman in the nine realms could be more worthy of wearing my ring. And you deserve so much more. Am I allowed to put this ring on your finger?"

"Yesss, Lo my love, you're allowed to do it!" you answered quietly and smiled reassuringly and brightly. With trembling hands, Loki took the ring and put it on your also trembling ring finger and kissed your knuckles before he stood up to sit by your side again. You stared lovingly into each other's eyes.

"So this gorgeous gift was the reason for your delayed return?"

"Yes, Snowflake. I let the best jewellers of Jotunheim craft it for you from Jotunheim's finest diamonds and gold. The wooden box belonged to my ancestors and I always wanted to give it to the woman I want to marry and share the bond with. And as you know, this woman is you. So I asked our friends to make this roundabout way before we would fly back home to get these items for you. I let the jewellers manufacture it some time ago when I was on a former mission."

"So all of our friends knew about this but me! You mischievous guy!" and you slapped his upper arm playfully and he laughed.

"Yes…no, not every detail. Just Thor knew everything I had planned."

Now every reaction and question of Jane and Thor made sense.

'Sneaky brothers' you thought.

"Don't forget, my love… I can hear you!"

"Dammit…", and you winked at him. "Hmm, maybe this mind-reading-thing isn't that bad…I could ask you for filthy things or talk dirty to you…", and a mischievous smile curved your lips.

"You little minx…" 'and naughty girl, my sweet little whore'... don't you dare…',

and he ran a finger from your throat down to your cleavage.

"Loki, behave! We're in public!" You scolded him playfully while a shiver ran down your spine.

"Do you really want me to be your husband?" Loki asked you more seriously now.

"Do you really want me to be your wife?" You questioned him and grabbed his hand and caressed it.

"There's nothing I want more, my love! You said, there's something you wanted to tell me. Please, what is it, my love?"

You took a deep breath, pressed a soft kiss to his lips and leaned your forehead against his.

"I'm ready, Lo. Take me to Jotunheim whenever you see fit. I want eternity with you!"

"So shall it be, my Lady!"

Loki smiled blissfully. He had never been sure what your final decision might be. He was so utterly, indescribably happy and captured your mouth in a devouring kiss. When he deepened it, passionately, demandingly, possessively, with you in his arms melting into his kiss and embrace, his skin turned blue. He felt so content and safe in your arms. You would be his, and his alone. Forever. And he would be yours, forever and irreversible. A warrior for his one and only Queen, a lifelong devoted servant for his goddess.

People walked by, benevolent smiles on their faces, seeing you and him showing off your love for each other in a breathtaking kiss…and no one cared. No one was astonished about an alien King with blue skin kissing an earth girl. They all saw a beautiful couple, sitting on a bench, utterly in love. And perhaps some of them were a bit jealous because they wanted to have what you and Loki had.

"Do you still like hot chocolate, my Lady?" He asked you and his skin turned pale again.

"Of course, I do Sir!"

"Then let's go to our cafe, my love. I'd never want to miss one of our coffee-cocoa dates!"

When you arrived there you immediately knew why Loki had left you early in the morning. Every table and chair in the cafe was placed aside. You two were the only guests here this afternoon and your waiter was already waiting for you. He escorted you both to your table at the window and served some of the best champagne Loki could find in the city and also your beloved hot chocolate and Loki's espresso was served soon. In a shimmer of green a big bouquet of green roses appeared in Loki's hands and he passed them to you. You thanked him and you kept the bouquet in your arms like a treasure until the waiter brought a vase.

"Lo, please tell me this is not a dream."

"It's not a dream Snowflake. And if it's a dream, we both dream about the same things at the same time."

He held your hands tightly in his as if he was afraid you could leave if he didn't. But you were glued to him and your glance was fixed on his eyes.

"I love you, Lo!"

"And I love you, Snowflake!"

Music began to play in the café, a waltz and Loki rose from his stool.

"May I have this dance, my Lady?" And he bowed and offered you his hand.

"I'd love to dance with you, my King" and you put your hand in his.

Loki walked you to the middle of the room, brought you two in the correct dance position, pulled you gently closer to him and danced the perfect waltz with you. You couldn't take your eyes off each other. Nothing else around you mattered. It was just him and you and you danced and kissed until the time had come to go back home for the family dinner.

There was still one thing you were suspicious about. Loki's phone call. With whom did he talk? When would he tell you about it? One thing was for sure, he didn't call someone from Jotunheim, this kind of technical communication was impossible. You just had to wait and see if you would ever get an answer.

But you trusted him. Endless. And you knew the day would come when he would tell you about it. At least this was what your gut feeling was telling you…and it never betrayed you.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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