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freelancearsonist · 5 months

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the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak. // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid.

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

➔ beta: @futuraa-free (thank u honey i love u)

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letterstotheflre · 2 years

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈’𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔) || 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

summary: it's his fault. daryl knows that. he should've realised sooner that he knew exactly what those mushroom's would do to you once you ate them.

cw: 18+ only. dark fic [ft. sex pollen, dubcon, mentions of previous noncon drugging (on daryl), outdoor sex, grinding, fingering, squirting]

a/n: soo here is my first big daryl fic! honestly, this might be my favourite fic i’ve ever written :3 it was very fun to write and somehow i really liked writing daryl dialogue/inner monologue (his accent is just so fun lol). once again, this was supposed to be a very feral smut fest and ended up having a lot of emotional moments and inner daryl turmoil </3 i still hope you like it :)) || also very unrelated side note, but i think “gold rush” by taylor fits the daryl in this fic v much (it’d be from his pov, not yours)

“Where d’ya think we should go next?” You ask Daryl around a mouthful of the lone rabbit he hunted earlier this afternoon.

Finding food is getting harder and harder, not to mention you’re running out of your water supply. It’s obvious you need to move your camp to a better area, preferably somewhere near a lake or river. The question is, where is that exactly?

Daryl shrugs, turning the rabbit leg between his dirty fingers around. He takes a rough bite.

He doesn’t know, and to be honest, he doesn’t really care. Now that the prison fell and with the group scattered to the winds, he doesn’t have much hope for anything. He had gotten a little too comfortable there, his first mistake, and now look where it landed him. Had he learnt nothing from his first camp with Merle, then the camp in Atlanta, then the CDC, and finally the farm? He had enough experience under his belt to know that things always took a turn for the worse, especially when everything seemed safe and peaceful. Yet he still let his guard down.

The thing is, the prison… the prison was different. It was well protected, with several feet of fence that kept the walkers far from the main building. They didn’t have to worry about any walkers creeping into their cells and taking a bite out of them in the middle of the night since they were able to clear their side of the prison in a matter of days. They had guns and ammo, food and water. Hershel and Carol even taught them how to take care of crops. Hell, they even got their hands on some cattle! They didn’t need to scavenge the woods for some meagre squirrels any more.

Things were looking up. He had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, they could spend the rest of their lives there. But then the Governor showed up and everything went to shit.

So now here he is. No Rick, no Carol. Alone once again. Well, not exactly alone– he had you for company.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you– he likes you more than just a normal amount if he’s being honest with himself. It’s just that… you’re a dead girl walking. He doesn’t know how you’ve made it this far, and by all accounts you shouldn’t have. Before all this, before the virus and the walking dead, you were a preschool teacher. You had lived in the city your entire life, in a nice house located in a nice neighbourhood with nice parents. If he had to bet, he’d say you were even prom queen back in the day.

There had been no need for you to learn how to hunt, scavenge, track, shoot a gun or even handle a knife. Daryl had been the one to teach you how to shoot a gun in the air, volunteering immediately when Rick brought the subject up and completely ignoring the amused, knowing smile on his friend’s face.

If he focuses hard enough, he can still hear the sound of your happy laughter the first time you hit the center of the target. Can still feel your chest pressed to his in your celebratory hug.

“Think I saw some train tracks a couple miles east yesterday. If the others saw ‘em too, they’re probably following them thinkin’ we’re doing the same,” you ramble on, not letting his lack of answer deter you. “Maybe we could find Rick or Maggie.” You lean forward so you can reach the mushrooms you picked up today, plop one and then another inside your awaiting mouth.

Daryl watches as you chew, eyes judging. He had been adamant that you shouldn’t eat them, shouldn’t even touch them.

“Stupid girl,” he growled, swatting your hand away from the cluster growing on the bark of a tree. “Didn’t ya mom tell ya not to touch things you never seen before?”

“Ain’t stupid,” you bristled at his tone. “I know these, they used to grow ‘rond some plants in the garden back home. Pretty sure mom put them in our soup ev’ry now and then.”

You don’t let his lack of answer deter you. “Think I saw some train tracks a

Daryl kneeled beside you, broad right shoulder touching your left one, and examined them closely. He was sure he had never seen them before, not in the woods from his hometown nor in any of his hunting trips since the outbreak started. “Nah, these ain’t safe,” he concluded.

“Yes, they are.”

“No”, he enunciated the word to make it as clear as possible. “They ain’t.”

“Yes, they are,” you scowl and plush a couple from their roots. “I ain’t stupid nor useless. I know I can eat these.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “If ya want to kill y’self just to prove a point then fine, be my fuckin’ guest,” he snarked. Then he got up and kept walking in silence, not even sparing you another glance.

He shakes his head firmly. “Nah, no train tracks.”

“What? Why?” You ask, surprised. “It’s our best shot at findin’ the others!”

“Ain’t no one to find, girl. S’better if ya stop kiddin’ yourself.”

“How could you say that?!” You look at him like he’s a monster. Daryl clenches his jaw. “They’re our friends, our family! We can’t just give ‘em up for dead as soon as things go south! Not after everything!”

Daryl throws away the bone in his hand and looks at you with fury. Don’t you get it? Merle, Sophia, Andrea, Lori, T-Dog, Dale, the list goes on and on. You’re the only one he knows for sure he has left and he’ll be damned if he has to add your name to the list too because you want to search for ghosts. You are his responsibility now. His voice is loud when he says, “Yeah, we should! ‘Cause if you saw those tracks y’know what it means? Means other people saw ‘em too. Bad people. And if ya go ‘round there, lighting fires and singin’ those stupid kid songs you sing all day like you’re in a fuckin’ musical or some shit y’know what they’re gonna do? They’re gon’ kill ya, or worse. So drop the fuckin’ topic and finish yer dinner.”

There really is no room for argument. You drop your gaze to the floor and gulp down the lump in your throat, bringing your knees to your chest. Everything is silent for at least an hour, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and Daryl’s chewing.

And then you call his name.

“Daryl?” Your voice is different; breathier, quieter. Almost like you can barely string the letters together. “I don’t feel very well.”

He’s on his feet in a second, the argument forgotten as soon as he heard your mumbled call. In three quick steps he’s standing in front of you. He kneels so you’re the same height and cups the side of your face. “Wha’s wrong?”

You blink sluggishly, revealing your dilated pupils, and lick your lips. “I don’t know,” you slur. Your breathing gets heavier. “I think– Oh God, I’m so hot,” you complain, almost ripping the zipper of your jacket in your haste to take it off. You throw it away like it’s made of molten lava. Before he can stop you, you take off your long sleeved shirt, leaving you in just a tank top, and lean back against the fallen tree trunk with a relieved sigh.

It doesn’t make any sense, Daryl thinks. It’s almost winter in Georgia, you should be freezing, but there are no goosebumps littering your skin that might signal you are cold in any way. In fact, you’re even trying to roll your cargo pants up to relieve your legs from a nonexistent blistering heat.

Daryl presses his hand to your forehead and is surprised to find it slick with sweat. “Y’re burning up,” he says, though he guesses you could probably already tell. He takes one of your arms and inspects it closely, looking for any wounds that could potentially be infected. “Where ya bit?”

You shake your head. “No, no. I didn’t see any walkers today.”

Your arms are in pristine condition, save for some sparse moles and freckles and a single healed scratch on your forearm he remembers you got from running around the woods so carelessly. There’s no sign of a bite or infected cut.

“Did ya get close to anyone sick back at the prison?” He knows it’s stupid to ask– everyone had taken their rounds of antibiotics to prevent another possible outbreak, and it’s also been a week since the prison fell. If you had been infected, you would’ve showed symptoms earlier on, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“No, I was with Beth ‘n Judy.” Suddenly, you gasp in pain and clutch your lower stomach, pressing your thighs together. “Daryl, it hurts,” you whimper.

The pain in your voice breaks his heart. You look so small, curled up in a tight ball like a wounded animal. He brings you into his lap and shushes you, “I know, I know.” He rubs your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Just lemme think for a second, ‘kay? M’gonna fix ya.”

He wrecks his brain for a solution but keeps coming up blank. He doesn’t have any idea as to what the hell caused this– one second you were fine and then the other you were bending over in pain. Did you touch something? Eat something? Was the water contaminated? Did some poisonous plant graze your skin? Was the rabbit he killed infected and he didn’t notice?

The tip of your nose tickles his neck as it moves from his collarbone up to his jaw, your rib cage expanding beneath his broad hand when you take a deep breath. He grunts at the strange sensation. “What are y’doin’, girl?”

Your hands curl around his shoulders, the leather of his vest crinkling beneath your tight grip. “You smell so good,” you mewl, taking in another whiff of his scent.

What the fuck.

He doesn’t know where the random compliment came from. He knows you have to be lying though– it’s been weeks since his last shower. His last one was five days before the prison fell and it wasn’t even a proper shower, just a scrub down with a rag, a bucket of water and some soap they found in the last supply run. That’s why he says, albeit a little disheartened, “Y’re talking nonsense.”

You shift in his lap, pressing your chests together and Daryl has to force himself not to react to the feeling of your boobs against his chest or to the movement of your wiggling hips over his crotch. “Am not, am not,” you babble, pressing small wet kisses to his neck and trailing your palms down his strong arm. “You– you smell so good. Feel so good. So big. I–” your breath hitches when you grind against him, relief morphing your previously pained features. “I need you, Daryl.”

His hands that were previously laying limp on either side of him are suddenly held by your softer, smaller ones and moved to your thighs. He drops his gaze, watches you control his hands. Up and down, up and down. The light coming from the fire illuminates the remnants of your dinner. You shift directions and now his hands are on your ass, forcing him to squeeze and grope as you keep grinding against him.

He stares intently at the leftover mushrooms and all of a sudden he’s 23 years old and Merle’s laughing his ass off as Daryl finishes the dinner his older brother had insisted on cooking. He remembers now, the desperation clawing at his chest when the shrooms started making effect. Remembers how Merle dragged him to a club in the city and patted his back in encouragement. “Go wild, baby brother! Lord knows ya need this.”

Misery is heavy on his shoulders. He wants to throw up– he was wrong before. He did see those mushrooms before. He had eaten them and been under their control. And now you were suffering the same fate he had all those years ago. Because of him, because he failed to realise sooner.

You move his hands up to your waist, your stomach, your breasts. He never wanted it to be like this. He had hoped, stupid as it was to dream about something other than mere survival, that if he ever got the courage to confess his feelings it’d be when everyone was safe again. When you didn’t have to sleep in tents and cars and pray to God he found any semblance of food. When you’d finally have a house, or a room, or at least a bed.

He’d be soft with you, just like you were with him every day.

Now, as you grind and moan above him in a lust filled rut, that dream will remain that. Just a dream.

He tears his hands from your grip, one settling on one side of your hip and the other cradling your cheek. Heat emanates from your skin like you’re a furnace. Daryl leans forward, lips brushing yours as he promises, “M’gonna make it better. That okay?”

You’re not in the right state of mind but he still asks for any semblance of peace of mind.

“Please,” you whimper, little crystal beads gathering on your waterline.

After months of pining, he finally closes the distance between you and presses your lips together in a firm kiss. Your mouth is soft and plain against his, trusting him enough to follow his every command as he devours you completely. He uses the hand on your hip to help you smooth down your otherwise stuttered grinding, drinking down every sweet little moan and gasp he elicits out of you.

That’s what you are– sweet. Sweet to touch and taste and feel. Sweet even in the way you cling to him, use him to relieve the affliction between your legs he accidentally caused.

Daryl holds you by the back of your neck, feels the warmth of your breath as you moan his name. “More. I need more,” you cry. The tear tracks on your cheeks glimmer in the warm fire light. “M’so empty. Need you to fuck me. Please, please, please,” you beg like a broken record, forcing your fist into Daryl’s chest and twisting his heartstrings without mercy.

“Don’t cry, doll face,” he rasps, brushing away your fresh wave of tears. You inhale shakily, leaning into his touch and nuzzling his palm like a touch starved kitten. Your hands tremble as you unbutton your jeans, struggling to pull them down from how sweaty you are and how sticky the insides of your thighs became. Daryl silences you every whine with a kiss and helps you pull them down to your shins, not willing to risk taking off both your shoes and pants completely in case you need to make a quick escape.

“I said I’s gonna fix ya and I am. Just need a couple minutes first.” You make another noise of complaint that turns into a relieved sigh when Daryl pulls your panties to the side and teases your folds with the tip of his fingers. “Need to get ya ready first. This all for me?” He asks, gathering all the slick dripping out of you.

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes closed in bliss as he toys with you. You nudge your noses together. “Always for you, Daryl. Only you.”

You really need to stop playing with his feelings like that. You’re talking out of your ass, he tells himself, letting your desire and need for relief control your words. Still, it’s nice to hear. He can’t deny that. Maybe he can live in this fantasy bubble a little longer, at least until reality crashes down on you both and you have to come to terms with what happened and decide to never see him again.

He circles your weeping hole, taunting you, then plunges a lone finger inside when you look like you’re ready to pounce on him. It’s easy, oh so easy, for him to slip in. He thought it would be harder, given the fact that he knew you haven’t slept with anyone since the apocalypse started. Not that he kept an eye on you or anything, he just happened to notice how your tent and cell were always silent, much like his. But you’re so wet that your cunt practically swallowed him right in.

You tap his shoulder needily, mouthing the word “more”, and bite your lip to stay quiet when he adds a second finger and then a third. You could cry from how happy you are right now.

“That enough for ya, ya spoiled girl?” He scoffs, rubbing circles on your swollen clit with his thumb.

You can only nod as he buries his fingers up to his knuckles, curling them and feeling the rough calluses as he prods inside you in search of your soft spot. When your loudest moan yet lets him know he found it, he abuses it, creating loud squelching noises that have him smiling.

Euphoria sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body shake as you cum, a small stream of clear liquid hitting Daryl’s wrist and dripping down to his jeans. “Shit,” he whispers, amazed.

He made you squirt.

Daryl’s still staring at his dripping wrist as you paw at him with a heaving chest, fingers curling around his brown plaid shirt. Your nails could nearly break the fabric. “You promised,” you sob. “You promised you’d fix it. That you’d fuck me. Don’t you want me?”

He tears his gaze away from the mess between your legs in shock. How could you ever think he doesn’t want you? When you’ve consumed his every waking thought and haunted his every dream. When the only thing he wanted to do when you looked at him with those glimmering eyes was to follow your every command word for word. When he didn’t want to just fuck you– he wanted to keep you safe and warm, wanted to make sure you’d never know hunger.

He grabs your jaw, fingers tightly pressing on your warm cheeks, and snarls. “Don’t ever think I don’t want ya.” He tugs you to him so he can kiss you, unbuckling his belt with one hand and pulling down the zipper of his jeans. Your own hand joins his and squirms under the rough fabric so you can take his cock out from behind his boxers. His jaw clenches at the feeling of your soft hand around him, so different from his own. Untouched by decades of manual work, protected by dutiful applications of hand creams (he's heard you tell Beth how dry your hands are now and how much you miss your favourite hand cream. He’s been looking for some on every supply run ever since).

He spreads all the wetness stuck to his fingers over his cock, his stomach doing a summersault when he sees you biting your lower lip in want. You guide him to your entrance, gasping in unison when the mushroom tip slips past your soaking wet folds. Slowly, you sink yourself down, Daryl mouthing at your neck as you get used to the thickness of his cock as it threatens to split you in half.

“Relax,” Daryl grunts, the scruff covering his cheeks scratching at the tender skin of your cleavage. He goes back to playing with your clit, knowing it’ll allow the tension to leave your muscles and he’ll be able to push in the remaining two inches.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, you take a shuddering breath in and slowly start to bounce. “Wanted this for so long,” you babble. “Wanted you, Daryl. A-And now you want me,” you smile, increasing the speed of your bouncing. You chant, “You want me, you want me, you want me.”

Daryl nods, teeth gritted as he feels you tighten around him, walls pulsing. You collapse on his chest, hips still grinding in search of any form of friction. With a firm and secure grip, he grabs your ass and uses it as leverage so he can pound you down on him. For once, he’s not worried about loud noises or stray walkers or even unknown strangers stumbling into the scene. No, he just worries about you and your sweet cunt keeping his cock warm; about your lips on his neck, your hands gripping his hair and your dulcet “uh uh uh’s” ringing in his ears as you cum for the second time.

He lifts you off of him just in time to shoot ropes of white all over his shirt, biting your neck to muffle his grunts of pleasure. For once in what seems like a lifetime, the walker infested woods are completely still, only both of your laboured breathing breaking the unusual silence.

Until you speak in a meek voice and it’s like he’s suddenly doused in cold water. “Daryl?”

He drops his forehead to your clavicle and shuts his eyes tightly, heaving a sigh. This is it– the moment where he loses you, where you run away. Forever disgusted with him. Afraid of him for breaking your trust.

After another beat of silence, you call his name again. “What happened?”

He straightens his back and rubs his face. He clears his throat. “It was the mushrooms,” he refuses to look at you as he explains the events of the night, unable to stomach the look of disgust he’s sure is all over your pretty face. “The ones you picked up today. I thought I didn’t know them but I did. They’re some kind of… aphrodisiac or some shit like that. Merle…” he trails off, skipping over the reason he knew about them in the first place. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. “Y’were feeling so sick ‘n those things… with the amount you ate they would’ve– they would’ve killed ya if I didn’t…”

“You saved me,” you state, cradling his face so that he can see you. His face is all scrunched up like he wants to cry and he hates himself for it– he has no right to feel like shit. He shakes his head. “You did. You saved me. I would’ve died if you didn’t do as I said, as I wanted you to.” You kiss his lips chastely. “Y’know, I meant what I said earlier. While we were…”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Y’were just saying shit ‘cause of the drugs. S’okay, ya don’t have to worry ‘bout my feelings.”

“No,” you frown, disconcerted that he always seems to bring himself down without even realising it. “I meant it. I’ve wanted you for a while, since– since the CDC, actually. When we played that card game after dinner and ya helped me get to bed since I was too drunk to even stand.” You smile as you remember the feeling of his arm around your waist and the soft pat on your head once you were resting on the pillow. You tuck some strands of hair behind his ear and his throat dries. Shrugging, you say, “I just never thought you liked me that way.”

Daryl weighs his options, wonders if he should take a leap of faith or pretend he’s never thought of you that way. This is too much for him. He’s scared to bare his chest wide open only for you to dislike what’s inside. But then he sees the earnest look in your eye and behind it, the fear that he won’t say anything at all.

“I do,” he gets out through the fist clutching his vocal chords. “Like you. Like that, I mean. I–” He shuts his eyes at how useless he’s with words (another reason why you deserve someone better than him). However, instead of rolling your eyes at him or making a derisive sound like he expected, you simply giggle at his uselessness, reaching for him once more.

He lets you kiss him and touch him as much as you want. You trace his brow bone and cheekbones with the soft pads of your fingers, play with the ends of matted hair and twirl them around your index. When you yawn, he makes sure you have your top and jacket back on and lets you rest on his chest. He stretches his arm so he can reach his discarded crossbow and leaves it on his side. “C’mon, go to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

pls reblog if u enjoyed it, it’ll make me twirl my hair and kick my feet :3

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon

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redroomreflections · 2 months

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Our Little Family - The Loud House Drabble

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: a direct response to Thread of A Promise. Natasha and R reflect on how far they've come a few years into the future.

The Loud House can be read on a03

note: a friend requested this so y'all can thank them for that.

tw: mention of child loss

Sometimes, you try not to think about it too much. You try to push that morning to the back of your mind. It's been years—three to be exact. You’d woken up to your worst nightmare and the deepest heartache you’d ever experienced. These days, it's a bit easier to bear.

With the loss of your child, you gained clarity. You knew what was important, who was important. You poured all your energy into volunteering, spending more time working with children in any capacity you could. You and Natasha became foster parents. Children have come and gone from your home, and you’ve loved and cared for them all the same.

Now, you have Cara. She’s the light of your life and the sassiest little preteen you could have ever asked for. Her adoption went through just a few months ago when you got another call for respite care. With Willow back in Atlanta, the sound and pitter-patter of little feet is missed. Of course, you jumped at the chance.

James and Charlotte are like breaths of fresh air. They fit right in. Charlotte is three and spunky. James at barely fifteen months old is still developing his little personality.

Mostly, he enjoys clinging to you and Natasha. He still has so much time to explore the world. Getting the kids into a routine is a feat. It's only been a few weeks since they've been home and their future is uncertain. Which causes a touch of anxiety for the ever-perceptive Charlotte.

Tonight, she'd thrown her first epic temper tantrum, kicking and screaming for what seemed to be no reason at all. Of course, you could probably pinpoint a few things. You'd had a work meeting that ran over a little too long. Natasha was stuck in traffic after training and therefore came home a little late after dinner.

You tried your best. You read her a bedtime story and gave her a little more warm milk. Still, she threw the bottle across the room. That in turn startled James who had been feeling a bit insecure on his own. Natasha had stepped in to see the tail end of things. She didn't ask questions. She rolled up her sleeves and got down to business. She carried Charlie into the bathroom to get started on a bath. Charlie mostly clung to Natasha as she watched the bubbles form in the water.

Meanwhile, you got James undressed too hoping that a bit of skin-to-skin would calm him down. He was all red-faced and teary-eyed as you walked toward the bathroom. Your frustration dwindled when you saw Natasha and Charlie standing beside the tub, both dipping their hands in and trying out the bubbles. Charlie still had a few tears streaming down her face along with hiccups but even she couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's antics.

She blew a few bubbles, then tried to pop a few of them, and she had a look of pure concentration on her face. It's so adorable, you can't help but watch.

"Can you tell me why you were sad, Charlie?" Natasha asked as she stood next to the little girl.

"Um, I wanted you," Charlie stuttered."I wanted you to come home." She swiped a hand across her cheeks. "To be with me."

Natasha nodded, then looked to you."Why didn't you use your words and tell Momm-y/n?" Natasha corrects herself. It's habit she's so used to talking to Cara. She doesn't want to force it on Charlie. The little girl could use whatever title she saw appropriate. "We've been practicing."

Charlie shrugged."'Cause...I don't know."

"Because you were afraid or sad?"

Charlie's bottom lip jutted out and she nodded."Yeah."

"I'm here now. And y/n did her very best," Natasha said softly, her eyes flickering to yours for a moment. You're standing with James tucked against your chest. "I'm sorry you were feeling bad. I know how you like our routine just as it is."

"And baby brother was crying too and it was so loud," Charlie pointed out. Even though she was partly to blame for his crying. You would never tell her that.

"He gets upset when his schedule is thrown off," You said."We should've made sure to keep it together. We'll do better next time, right Nat?"

"Yes, we will," Natasha promised. She helped Charlie step into the bathtub. Meanwhile, James refused to be put down. He whimpered when you tried to set him onto his feet.

"Okay, okay," You sighed."I guess you're staying with me, little man." You bounced him on your hip and pressed a kiss to his temple. He settled after that. You watched Natasha bathe Charlie. Eventually, he calmed enough for you to include him in the bedtime ritual. Tonight though you knew the kids needed a little more loving.

With them all dressed and moisturized, you turned on their favorite lullaby music. The nursery housed the crib and Charlie's bed. After a lot of trial and error, you realized they slept better being in the same room. Charlie was protective of her brother and often wanted to be with him. This was the compromise. Eventually, during this little routine, you and Natasha switched children. The heavier weight of Charlie was comforting as she rested her head on your shoulders. She sucked her thumb into her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed only briefly as she fought her sleep. Natasha was having a good time beside you as she rubbed James' bare body soothingly. He's barely fifteen months and still so tiny and cuddly. This moment felt like heaven.

"Mmm," James babbled to himself. Just like his sister, he was fighting his sleep.

"It's funny how life turned out isn't it?" Natasha spoke softly.

"Hmm?" You questioned as you moved your gaze from Charlie's sleeping form to Natasha's loving gaze.

"I was just thinking," She breathed. "About him," Natasha said and you instantly knew what she was talking about.

"I think about him sometimes too," You avoided her gaze. Your unborn baby was always on your mind. It's funny that even after all this time you both were insistent on being a boy. You'd lost him before you could ever find out.

"I think about how I was scared out of my mind."

You frowned and looked at her. "Of what?"

"I was terrified to become a mother," Natasha confessed."I was terrified I wouldn't be a good mother."

"Well, I can say for sure that I was right," You smiled. "You are one badass boy Mama."

Natasha chuckled and shook her head."Thank you. But you were so confident and ready."

"Not really," You disagreed. "I was scared too."

"But you were so excited and open to the idea." Natasha began. "I was too but I don't know. I knew would have this. What we have here."

"Our own little James," You dared to say. He's not even yours yet. Not truly. He still belongs to the state. Both of them do. But you hope and pray that they get to stay.

"Is it hard for you? The fact that he has the same name?"

"At first it was..." You trailed off. "I was afraid of the memories and the pain but now...now it's the sweetest memory."

"That's how I feel," Natasha agreed.

"I don't want to let my thoughts slip and believe in reincarnation or something freaky," You shake your head. "The ages kind of align."

"I've noticed," Natasha hummed. She planted a sweet kiss atop James's head. He gave her a soft coo in return.

"I don't want to treat him as if he is ours in that way," You shook your head. "As if he's just here to fill some void and that he has the same name. It's just... have you ever felt like you're right where you're supposed to be."

"More than you know," Natasha's lips spread into a smile."I never thought I would have any of this. Now I do and it feels amazing."

"I never thought I'd love someone the way I love you."

"And I love you more than anything in this world," Natasha promised."You have the biggest and the most beautiful heart. I love the family we have created."

"Me too," You sighed happily.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you

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tkachuktkaching · 2 months

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Tkachuk has ‘really special’ day bringing Stanley Cup home to St. Louis

Panthers forward visits first responders, children’s hospital with famed trophy

ST. LOUIS -- Matthew Tkachuk remembers visiting family in Boston, the first stop usually being the North End fire department where his grandfather, John Tkachuk, was the chief.

“We’d ride the pole, try the hat on, sometimes we’d go for a ride even though I don’t know if that’s allowed,” the Florida Panthers forward said with a laugh on Thursday. “It was super cool and anytime I see firemen, on duty or off, I always make sure to go say ‘Hi’.”

And when Tkachuk had his day with the Stanley Cup on Thursday, the Brentwood Fire Department, located about 15 minutes west of his hometown of St. Louis in Brentwood, Missouri, was one of the stops he definitely had to make.

It was an enjoyable day for Tkachuk, who had 61 points (24 goals, 37 assists) in 71 regular-season games and 22 points (six goals, 16 assists) in 24 Stanley Cup Playoff games to help the Panthers win their first Cup championship last month.

His time with the Cup actually began Wednesday, when he took it to lunch at Grassi’s Ristorante in Frontenac, Missouri, about 15 minutes west of St. Louis.

On Thursday he brought the Cup to his elementary school, Villa Duchesne in St. Louis, the St. Louis Children’s Hospital and the Brentwood police and fire departments.

“It’s been amazing," he said. "I’m trying to have that little mix of fitting everything I want possible in, but also want to enjoy it with those who are close to me. It’s been awesome so far and I’m sure the day’s going to continue to be awesome.”

There was no riding on the pole at the fire department this time, but Tkachuk did try on a fireman’s hat, saying that “it was a little snug. I’ve got a big head, but it was good.” He also took photos with the firemen and their families, displaying the Cup in the department and outside in front of one of the fire trucks.

Brentwood assistant fire chief Ed Beirne said when he told his staff that Tkachuk would be coming by with the Cup, “I didn’t think their eyes and mouths could open any wider.

“It’s an honor for us to actually be considered,” said Beirne, whose grandson, Faris, was placed in the Cup for one of the photos.

“Although we know the Tkachuk family is part of Brentwood, growing up around here, this is a massive effort to win the Cup. For them to remember and humble us by sharing his day with the Cup, I know he gets it for a short amount of time, but to share that time with us and then bring a lot of joy to the staff and family we were able to assemble, that is what’s really special about public safety and the NHL in general. It’s a family sport. All of us have played it, it’s a family, and this is a testament to that.”

When Tkachuk brought the Cup to the police department, he was joined by his immediate family, including brother Brady, captain of the Ottawa Senators, and father Keith, the former NHL forward who had 1,065 points (538 goals, 527 assists) in 1,201 games with the Winnipeg Jets, Phoenix Coyotes, Atlanta Thrashers and St. Louis Blues.

Brady was catching up with Matthew after some early-morning training.

“I can’t just be riding his coattails. Have to prepare for next season,” Brady said with a laugh.

“This is our childhood dream, just to see it up close and personal, to see how happy and genuinely excited and fulfilled and satisfied Matthew is, it’s amazing to see. It’s been awesome to see, and it’s definitely created that burning desire for me to provide that for my family and friends, too.”

Matthew took photos with individual officers and staff members, who were hesitant as they approached the Cup.

“Anybody that knows anything about hockey knows the Cup is sacred, so we’re scared to touch it,” Brentwood police chief Joseph Spiess Jr. said.

“The Tkachuk family has a strong presence in Brentwood. Not only do we get to protect them, but we get to share in their celebration, so it’s cool for us. Most of the people in this building are huge fans, sports generally, but hockey in particular.”

When the Vegas Golden Knights won the Cup in 2023, it marked the first time that names were engraved on the Cup prior to players and staff getting their respective days with it. It was something Matthew appreciated.

“It’s really special for my family. Years and years and years of hockey in our blood and for grandparents and extended family that come to my house and see that Tkachuk name on the Cup there, it’s truly such a special thing,” Matthew said.

The family had its own time with the Cup by midday Thursday. After bringing home some barbecue, Brady and Keith, along with Matthew’s sister, Taryn, mom Chantal and his fiancée, Ellie Connell, took turns taking a sip of beer out of it.

Tkachuk had already spent some quality time with the Cup. He and a few Panthers teammates brought it to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on June 25, the day after they defeated the Edmonton Oilers 2-1 in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final. That day, they brought it to the Elbo Room, a bar near the beach, and Tkachuk carried the Cup into the Atlantic Ocean.

But there’s something special about bringing it back to your hometown.

“It hasn’t sunk in,” Keith said. “It’s been so much fun watching Matthew with the Cup with other people. That means more than winning, so it’s so cool. We’re pretty proud. He’s been around, grew up here, wants to be a part of it and he took it everywhere. Everybody’s loving it. We’re loving it.”

via nhl.com

Photos © Tracey Myers

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ssinnerplazahotel · 1 month

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╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Nine*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 8k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Time is a strange thing. It has a way of going by slowly and in a hurry all at the same time. It doesn’t wait for you or let you catch up. You discovered early on that if you focused too much on time it drifted by slowly. If you kept yourself busy and focused on other things it went by without you noticing too much. So you kept yourself as busy as possible.

Although you had plenty of money saved, you got a job within your first week of being in Atlanta. You waited tables at a small diner just a few blocks from the apartment you were renting.

It wasn’t the nicest apartment. It was above a family-owned restaurant and your landlord wasn’t the most forgiving woman in the world, but it was in the heart of the city and close enough to your job.

It wasn’t entirely without incident that you’d ended up there. When you arrived at the train station you’d decided to take the first train leaving that was going the furthest away.

Regardless, you didn’t regret the decision. It was a busy city, and you needed to be busy.

When you called Dawn that first night, from a hotel in the middle of a completely different state, she tore into for nearly thirty minutes. You were able to convince her that you were fine, and that you were doing what was necessary. You weren’t having a breakdown, you were trying to prevent one.

You didn’t expect to spend the next month searching for a place to be. That month of aimlessly wandering was unnerving, but now you were settling nicely in Georgia now.

You had left Memphis behind and you were gaining important life skills and managing your finances. It wasn’t the most ideal job, but you were able to throw yourself into your work everyday.

You were happy with the way things were going. And the more consumed you were with work and surviving, the less effort it took not to think about him.

You missed him every single day, a part of you always would. But it didn’t hurt as much anymore. The hole he left in your heart was still there, hollow but numb now.

“You got company, treasure,” Your coworker called out to you from the kitchen.

“Give me that sirloin, Chuck, I asked for it first.” You ducked your head to talk to him through the service window. “You get around like an old man.”

“You got one coming in hot,” He responded. “If you were nicer maybe you’d get your shit faster.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Looks like somebody’s lost,” Sinclair, a fellow waitress at the restaurant, said as she walked over to grab her order. You followed her gaze to the man taking a seat in your section. It wasn’t a segregated restaurant by any means, but only a certain demographic of people really ate there—this man, wearing a fancy suit and sunglasses in the middle of the night, didn’t fit into any of those boxes. “Let him know this ain’t Sterling’s.”

You laughed. “I might let him think it is for a big enough tip.”

“Speaking of big enough.” Sinclair called out to Chuck through the service window. “Where’s that sirloin?”

“Hey, next one’s mine.” You took your notepad and pen out of the front pocket of your apron. “I’m coming right back for it, Chuckles.”

“I’ll have it for you, treasure, don’t worry. I’m only one man.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over to your section. You stopped to check on a few people before you made it to the man’s table. He wore dark shades even though it was nighttime and he kept his head down looking at the menu until you spoke.

“Hello,” You said, getting his attention before introducing yourself. “I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. What can I get started for you?”

He hesitated as he read your name from your name tag. He had an odd tone when he spoke but you couldn’t make out his expression behind the sunglasses.

“Yes.” You smiled politely, preparing to write. “What can I get started for you?”

“Well I’ll be, it is you.” He laughed. “What are you doin here?”

“I think you have me confused with someone else.” You smiled uncomfortably. “Just one of those faces~”

“Oh, no, it’s me.” He stood and removed the glasses.

“Joel?” Your stomach dropped. “Oh my god.”

Joel laughed, hugging you enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen you since you took off.”

You froze when he hugged you, uncomfortably patting his back with one hand before he pulled away. You glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching, catching a few eyes before looking up at him again. “W-What are you doing here, Joel? Are you here with someone?”

“No, I’m alone.” He still looked stunned to see you.

“I-I hardly recognized you for a second,” You stammered.

“You look~ I mean~ you haven’t changed.” He laughed. “I only been out here a couple weeks or so with my parents.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my dad opened up a repair shop just off the highway.”

“Auto repair?” You presumed.

“Yeah, he wanted me up here with ‘im. He’s got me fixin cars all day.”

“Why Atlanta?”

“I guess he thinks city folk have more car trouble,” He chuckled. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why here?”

You shrugged. “I just found myself here. No reason really.”

“It’s a strange city,” Joel said. “I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since I been here.”

“I guess that explains the sunglasses in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, yeah, not to mention that I’m so hungover I can’t see straight.” He smiled when you laughed. “I don’t get out much but I pay the price when I do.”

“Well, sit down, I’ll bring you some coffee.” You smiled and turned to walk away before he stopped you.

“Maybe we can catch up,” He said. “You’re the only familiar face I seen since I been here.”

“I’m working right now.”

“After?”

You hesitated. “I-I don’t know…”

His face fell slightly. “That’s fine, I understand.”

You felt bad about declining the offer. He was a familiar face and he’d had a good rapport with Dawn and you would consider him an old friend, even though you rarely ever spoke. “…I’m off in the next hour. If you’re willing to wait.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile. “I’m not in any rush.”

You smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” He said, retaking his seat.

Sinclair looked at you with narrowed eyes as you walked over to the service window. “You know that man?”

“He’s an old friend,” You said, leaning down to talk to Chuck. “Give it to me, baby.”

“I got you,” He said. “Order up in five.”

“Order up now.” You walked away to pour up the coffee.

“How do you know him?” Sinclair asked as Chuck served her orders through the window.

“He knows my aunt,” You stated simply. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Sinclair said, checking her tickets. “Can’t I ask?”

“I never said you couldn’t.” You took your orders out of the window and loaded them onto a serving tray. “Thanks, Chuckles.”

“You’re welcome,” He said. “You gone in an hour?”

“I’m gone in forty-nine minutes.” You dropped your orders at your other tables before taking Joel his coffee. He ordered his food and you took the ticket back to Chuck.

The final hour of a shift was always the hardest to get through, but you managed to finish out strong. You set up the next waitron before clocking out in the back.

“See you tomorrow,” You called to Chuck and Sinclair, waving at a few coworkers on your way over to Joel’s table. He perked up a little when he saw you, closing one of the four travel pamphlets he was reading to pass the time. “You know anything about Vegas yet?”

“Not unless you’re interested in a Tropicana Holiday,” He said, holding up the brochure. “Three days, two nights.”

You smiled and sat down across from him, draping your coat over the back of your chair and sitting your purse on the ground beside you. “How’s your head?”

“Like it never happened.”

“Good.”

One of your coworkers approached your table. Her name was Monica, that was just about all you knew about her. “What can I get started for you guys?” She asked, eyeing the two of you strangely.

“Are you hungry?” Joel asked.

“I’m fine,” You insisted quickly.

“You should eat,” He argued. “It’s on me.”

“Joel, really, it’s fine.”

“I insist.”

He ordered you something off of the menu for you and Monica jotted down the order before walking away.

“You know I can’t let you pay for it,” You said when she was gone.

“Let me. Consider it a favor from an old friend.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“I won’t let you.” He chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His blond curls still framed his face like they did when you first met him, though they were longer now—nearly dusting his shoulders. It made him look boyish even though his features were mature. “What made you leave Memphis?”

“I needed a change of scenery.” You had repeated the same lie to everyone you encountered, so much so that you were starting to believe it yourself.

“D’you still talk to Elvis at all?”

“Why would I?”

He shrugged indifferently and moved on. “I saw Dawn before I left.”

“You did?” You perked up a bit, grateful for the immediate change in subject. “How was she?”

“She was good, still workin at the house,” He said. “She’s the same old Dawn.”

Monica returned with your order and the two of you sat there talking until you finished eating. Joel was interested in hearing about the places you’d been to around the city and you were happy to tell him. You had more than enough stories to tell after being on your own for so long.

Thinking back, you weren’t sure how you’d done it. As you were recalling the memories you were also recalling how afraid and completely lost you were—fear had been the only thing you’d felt in months. You were so constantly afraid that you were used to it.

“You live near here?” Joel asked after paying the bill. “I can take you home.”

“I usually walk,” You said, grabbing your things and standing with him. “My place is just a few blocks from here.”

“I’ll walk you~”

“You don’t have to go out of your way~”

“I don’t mind, really. I want to make sure you get there alright.”

You couldn’t convince him to let you go alone, so the two of you left the restaurant together.

The entire night had been so surreal, you never expected to see anyone from Memphis again. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this.”

“It’s funny. All these people and we still managed to bump into each other.”

You hummed in agreement. “I guess you stumbled into the right diner.”

“I guess I did.” Joel sighed. “I ain’t talked to anyone outside of my folks in a while.”

“I haven’t had time to make any friends.”

“It’s harder to make friends in the city.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Back home, you step outside your house and you make all kinds of friends just from right there on your front porch.”

You laughed at that. “It was never that simple for me.”

“I’ve met some good people that way. You meet people everywhere here but you don’t know anyone.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you hate Atlanta?”

“I don’t know…I think I’ll start to hate it less.”

After Joel dropped you off that night you didn’t see him again for a couple of weeks. You figured that you would see very little of him even though you were in the same state. However, he did show up again eventually.

“What are you here for? Another cure?”

“I’m sober as a judge.”

You laughed. “I would take your order but you just missed me. I’m off now.”

“Then I’m right on time.” He smiled. “I wanted to take a look at the old coupe deville. You were telling me about it.”

“You came to look at my car?” You asked incredulously. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“Time still doesn’t exist to me, I guess.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I understand if you have plans.”

“I don’t have any plans, Joel, it’s ten o’clock,” You said, making him laugh. “You don’t need an excuse to come see me, y’know?”

You meant it as a joke but Joel’s face still flushed slightly at your words. “Can I walk you home?”

“Just let me grab my stuff,” You said. “I’ll be quick.”

“You better be. It is ten o’clock, y’know?”

You cut your eye at him and walked to the back to get your things.

“Yo, treasure, that guy bothering you?”

“No, Chuck, didn’t I tell you he’s an old friend?”

Chuck scoffed and mumbled something under his breath before getting back to what he was doing.

“That white boy’s out there for you again,” Sinclair said, sauntering through the door.

“His name’s Joel,” You said.

“And what does Joel want with you?” She asked. “He’s been here three times now.”

“I think I know what he wants with her,” Chuck said, walking back out into the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Chuck.” You shrugged on your jacket and faced Sinclair. “He’s been here three times?”

“He came while I was covering your shift last week,” She said. “Speaking of, I’m gonna need you to return the favor. Wendell has a parent-teacher conference at school Friday night and Marc can’t make it.”

You nodded, distracted. “I can do Friday night.”

“It’s three to eleven, my usual.”

“I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

Sinclair thanked you and wished you a safe trip home before getting back to her tables. You put on a smile as you met Joel, admittedly drained but not wanting to let it show.

“How was your day?” He asked, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his acid washed jeans as you walked along the quiet sidewalk.

“Okay,” You responded. “Long.”

“I hear you,” Joel sighed.

“My coworker said you came by sometime last week,” You mentioned. “You weren’t looking for me were you?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled, embarrassed.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“I don’t~”

“You have to know. A person doesn’t just do things without knowing why.”

“I don’t know,” He said anyway, making you shoot him a glare. He laughed it off. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

He looked away as he spoke, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk.

“Is that bad?” He asked when you didn’t respond, still looking down at the sidewalk, watching the rocks as they skidded ahead each time he kicked them.

“No, I don’t think so,” You said. “Do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” He said, laughing in realization. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to~”

“It’s fine.” You smiled.

“I was already out tryna to get away from my parents, so I figured I’d try you again today.”

“Do your parents smother you?” You asked.

“Oh yeah.” He heaved a sigh. You couldn’t tell if he was frustrated at the thought of his parents or relieved to be shifting subjects. “They always have. Mama’s terrible about it, and daddy—he does whatever she tells him to. They don’t think I can make it on my own.”

“I’m sure they do it out of love.”

“I know.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Everything I do is to try and prove to them that I can take care of myself. I’m starting to think they’ll always see me as a kid.”

“You should talk to them,” You suggested. “If they love you enough they’ll hear you out and try to change.”

“You think so?”

“It’s worth the shot.”

Joel smiled. “This is why I like being around you. You always have something good to say.”

You laughed in denial. “I know how it feels to be stuck in a box and not know how to get out.”

“Your folks overbearing?” Joel asked.

“Dawn’s really my only family.”

“I remember you saying that,” He said with an apologetic expression. “It must be tough being on your own.”

“It’s okay.” You were getting used to it, you almost preferred being alone. “Y-You should really talk to your parents. I think they’ll understand how you feel.”

“I will,” He said. “I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“Already planning your next stakeout,” You pointed out humorously. “Why don’t you just wait outside of my apartment instead of at my job?”

“You’re giving great advice tonight.” He laughed along with you for a moment. “Maybe I’ll catch you on a day you’re off, and it’s not ten o’clock at night.”

“You’ll have to if you plan on telling me about your talk with your parents.” Joel laughed again as you contemplated the idea. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“I’m usually done with everything at the shop around three on Thursdays—I could just….”

“That’s fine. You know the address now, I assume.”

“Locked and loaded.” He tapped his temple. “Not because I regularly stake out your apartment or anything.”

“No, of course not.” You smiled. “It’s 3B. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” He said. “You should give me your number. In case I have to call and cancel.”

You narrowed your eyes jokingly, coming to a stop as you approached your apartment building. You took your pen and pad out of the front of the apron you still wore under your coat and jotted down your number and address. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Joel said, taking the ticket. “Good night.”

You smiled and turned to walk into the restaurant that led up to your apartment.

Joel waited until you were inside before walking back the way you guys came.

“Leftovers,” Your landlady called as she wiped down the tables for the night, nodding her head at the carefully packaged food. “You’re late. I almost threw them away.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Angie,” You said as you grabbed the bag. “You’re always so kind.”

She hummed, uninterested in your compliment. “Rent’s due by the end of the week, no exceptions.”

“I’m gonna have all of it,” You promised, heading for the stairs. “Tell Mr. Ben I said goodnight.”

You climbed the stairs and got into your apartment. After putting the leftovers in the fridge you didn’t have any energy left to do anything but shower and go to bed.

You dropped your tips in your savings jar and called it a night.

“I looked at him and I said ‘Daddy, some things are gonna hafta change around here if I’mma keep working for you. I ain’t gonna let you and mama run me around and tell me what to do like you have been. Not anymore.’ You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said ‘get your ass over there and start rotatin them tires.’”

You laughed from where you sat on the ground piecing together a puzzle on your coffee table. Joel sat on the sofa looking down at it as you made more progress.

“So?” You asked, glancing up at him. “What’d you do?”

“I got my ass over there and started rotating them tires.” He laughed along with you. “What was I s’posed to do?”

“He probably just didn’t know how to react,” You said, picking up another piece of the puzzle and examining the incomplete picture of a swan on a lake.

“There.” Joel pointed to the missing part of the swans beak.

“At least you tried.” You put the piece in its place. “I wouldn’t know where to start if I tried to unpack things with my dad.”

“Tell me about your dad.” He moved from the sofa and sat down next to you on the floor

“There’s nothing to tell,” You said. “He left when I was little and took my brother with him.”

“Do you remember anything about him?”

“I try not to.”

You laughed but Joel’s expression remained serious. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” You said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It should.” You focused on the puzzle as he spoke. “Not having both your parents ain’t easy.”

“You can’t miss what you never had.”

“Yeah, but you can long for something you should’ve.”

You met his eyes and your expression grew to match his.

“I think, even if you say there isn’t, there’s a part of you that wishes he had been there for you.”

“There isn’t.”

“It’s okay if there is~”

“There’s not, Joel.” You examined the piece in your hand, scanning the puzzle again. “I don’t have any strong feelings about the situation. It’s just something that happened.”

Joel took the puzzle piece from you and tucked it into its proper place. “He missed out on a good thing from what I can tell. It’s his loss.”

You shrugged. “I wish my brother and I would have gotten a chance to grow up together. Other than that I just…”

“Try not to think about it,” Joel finished. You nodded. “I won’t bring it up again.”

You smiled a little as he pieced together another piece of the puzzle. “Why are you actually good at this?”

“You just havta go by the colors.” He handed you another piece. “Sit back and look at the bigger picture.”

You followed his advice and leaned away from the coffee table. “Ah, I see.” You laughed, finding where the piece went immediately.

“There you go.” Joel laughed.

“I still might take you hostage and make you finish it for me.” You smiled. “I’ll never get it done on my own.”

“I’d be a willing hostage,” He said. “I like being here with you.”

You laughed again, unsure of how you should respond. “I’d make for a terrible captor.”

Joel smiled without meeting your eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re a strange man, Joel,” You said. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“What do you wonder?”

“I wonder what you’re doing here.”

He looked up at you. “I like being around you.”

You nodded. “You’ve said that.”

“You want more of a reason?”

“Yes.”

He smiled again, looking off in thought as he fidgeted with the puzzle piece in his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

“When I think of being anywhere else…I always rather be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

He avoided your eyes, focusing instead on where your hand rested near his on the coffee table.

“I like you too.”

“N-No, I…I like you more.”

“More?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

You fell silent. He wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already suspected, but you were slow to process his words.

He seemed to panic when you didn’t respond. “I don’t want that to change anything~”

“It won’t,” You reassured him. “A-And I want to spend time together when we can.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize how lonely I was before you came along.”

Joel’s hand brushed against yours when he shifted and you felt a rush of something between fear and panic but you didn’t pull away.

“I can always keep you company.”

“Would you?”

“If you wanted me to.” His eyes darted to your lips for less than a second before landing on your eyes.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke again. “…I want you to.”

Silence settled over the room and the air seemed to thicken as it went on. The space between the two of you gradually decreased and you both hesitated, you imagined for entirely different reasons. Joel started to pull away after sensing your hesitation but you closed the space between your lips before he could.

You broke the kiss immediately, anxiously awaiting his reaction. He shifted towards you, taking your face between both his hands and searching your eyes for any sign of skepticism before kissing you again.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands came to rest on his forearms. You only opened your eyes when he broke the kiss, finding his already on you.

“Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

Your relationship with Joel brought something into your life that you didn’t realize you were missing.

He was there for you when you needed him and even when you didn’t. He listened to you and he was interested in your thoughts. He didn’t expect anything from you. He was patient and he let you come to terms with your feelings on your own accord. He was your friend before he was your lover.

You felt different when you were with Joel. You didn’t feel nervous or anxious when you were around him. You weren’t afraid to tell him the truth and you never worried that he’d hurt you or find some way to punish you if you went against him. He was gentle with you, almost too gentle.

“I want you to meet my parents,” He said during one of his afternoon visits. “I told them about you.”

“You did?”

“They want to meet you,” He said. “They wanna know who’s been taking up all my time.”

You didn’t know what was so different at the time—why Joel made you feel so different. You soon came to realize that Joel’s way of loving you simply wasn’t the same as Elvis’ way of loving you.

You were there for each other when you had no one. There was a space you filled in each other’s lives that was different. Even though it took time, you grew to understand and accept that.

“You mean they want to know if I’m worth your time.” You stood at the counter sectioning Ms. Angie’s leftovers into airtight containers. You always had more than enough, so you usually took some to Sinclair whenever you had shifts together.

“No, I can tell them that,” Joel said. He stood behind you and slipped his arms around your waist. “Some things they gotta see for themselves.”

You laughed, shying away from the kiss he left on your cheek. “I don’t know how you’ll manage to make time. You work almost every day and I work every night.”

“I’ll make time,” He said. “You just hafta tell me when you’re off.”

“Fine,” You agreed. “But make it lunch, not dinner.”

“Lunch not dinner, got it.” He nodded once. “You taking that to Sinclair?”

“Yes,” You sighed. “If I eat another dumpling I might die. I don’t have the heart to turn it down.”

Joel laughed, letting you walk out of his arms. “I’ll pick you up tonight. 10:30?”

“10:30.” You put the containers into an old grocery bag and tied the handles before grabbing your keys. "I'll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you.” He smiled, his eyes following you as you left. “I love you.”

You cut your eye over your shoulder, slowing to a stop. You walked back over and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Lock up when you leave.”

Things with Joel progressed quickly after you’d acknowledged your feelings. You were apprehensive at times about letting him into your life all at once, but you were more afraid to let him go after you’d grown attached. You feared that things would change the more he got to know you and that he’d leave on his own. But with time your trust grew and your feelings became stronger; you longed for him when he was away.

He became a part of your everyday. Long after the initial attraction that brought the two of you together had started to fade you still wanted him in your life.

Eventually, after talking and thinking it over, he moved in together. You were practically inseparable so it made the most sense.

“Marry me.”

“No.”

You were genuinely happy and you couldn’t see things any other way.

“Marry me.”

“Joel.”

You had a tolerable job, a decent place to live, and a person to share your life with.

“I’m not gonna stop asking.”

“That’s called harassment.”

It felt like you were finally getting a taste of that stability that had made you envy Andrea.

“Marry me.”

“For the love of god.”

You were somewhere in your life that you never thought you’d be.

“Please?”

You couldn’t have been more content.

“Fine. I’ll marry you.”

“Where are you, sugar?”

“I’m here.”

You sighed and closed the book in your hands as Joel entered your shared bedroom. He smiled when he saw you, dropping his work boots by the door.

“Look at you, lookin like a regular ol housewife.” He laughed, unbuttoning the dirty flannel he was wearing.

“You know I hate when you say that,” You said with a slight roll of your eyes.

“It’s not a bad thing,” He said, walking towards you. “Not to mention you will be soon.”

“Uh, uh.” You put a hand out to stop him. “You better wash all that off before you come over here.”

“Don’t I at least get a kiss?” He asked, still inching towards you. “I ain’t seen you all day.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You tilted you head expectantly.

“It’s my fault,” He said, kneeling on the bed. “It’s all my fault.”

You laughed despite your protests, pushing him away only after he’d stolen a kiss. He went into the bathroom to turn on the shower before leaning on the doorframe. “I meant to tell you that daddy wants me to go to Charleston after work tomorrow to pick up some parts.”

“Charleston?” You asked. “It’s gonna take all day to get there and back.”

“I know, but you can come with me and we can make it a thing.”

“‘Make it a thing?’”

“Make a trip out of it.”

“I don’t like the roads around Charleston.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Sinclair and Marcus were going to come over tomorrow night.”

“I know,” He repeated with an apologetic expression. “I don’t want to, but Charleston’s got the only place we can find that has any of those new alternators. I told you about them, they’re imported. We’re gonna be able to reach a whole nother demographic if we~”

“Baby, please, don’t go on one of your car rants.” You closed your book again, abandoning it on the bed as you stood. “This is the third time I’m going to have to cancel on them. Can’t your father go on his own for once?”

“I told him I would. It’s not like I’m doin it for free, I’m gettin paid for making the trip.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s my job to take care of you. You know that’s why I’m doing it, so why give me shit for it everytime?”

“Because I hardly ever see you anymore. I mean it, I don’t want to live here if it means you working all hours of the day and night.”

“We’re staying here. No one bothers us here, we keep to ourselves~”

“I’ll start working again to take away some of the pressure.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What about what I want? I want you here, with me, more often.”

“I want to be here, sweetheart, I do. I’m not tryin to prioritize anything over you…” He worried his bottom lip as spoke, rubbing his face thoughtfully.

“But?” You prompted.

“But I hafta help at the shop as much as I can. It’s getting to be just as much my responsibility as it is daddy’s,”

“What am I supposed to do? Get in line and wait my turn for your attention?”

“You have my attention, always.” He crossed the room and took your hands in his. “If it’ll make you happy I’ll tell him I can’t go tomorrow, but I have to at some point.”

“Don’t bother.” You pulled away from him and walked away. “You don’t bother telling him anything else.”

“Why are you tearing into me right now?” He asked, shocked by your comment.

“Why won’t you tell him we’re getting married?” You faced him, arms crossed.

“I’m gonna tell him and mama~”

“When?”

“I don’t know just yet. When I can..”

“I’m starting to think you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked.

“No, god, no.” He grew more frustrated. “I know they’ll never let me hear the end of it when they find out. It’s not about you at all.”

You fell silent, looking down to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

“I could never be ashamed of you, you’re too important to me.” He continued when you didn’t respond. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like I should. I’ll try harder, okay? I’m gonna tell daddy I can’t go tomorrow and we’re gonna have some fun with our friends.”

You sensed him coming closer before you felt him gently lift your chin to meet your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” He whispered. “You know I hate to see you cry.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stay and read your book,” He said. “You can tell me about it when I’m done.”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead and let you go. “I’ll be quick.”

“Joel.” You stopped him. “I don’t want to be kept a secret.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“Tomorrow.”

He looked undeniably conflicted but he nodded his head before silently retreating to the bathroom.

The next day, upon hearing the news, his father fired him and kicked him out of the shop. You had a feeling that Joel knew that his father would react that way and had been putting off telling him for that reason.

He tried to put on a brave face about the situation, but you could see it in his eyes that he was hurt. He had every right to be after years of putting so much into building and maintaining the business with his father.

“McNally’s been bugging me about coming to work for him at his dealership,” He said. “I’m sure the offer still stands.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.” You felt like it was your fault. If you hadn’t pushed him to tell his parents he’d still have a relationship with them and a job he loved.

“I don’t want you thinking this is your fault,” He said. “We’re gonna be married and if mama and daddy can’t accept that, then…I don’t want them in our life.”

You leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. You didn’t know what to do other than apologize.

“I’m gonna change and head over to talk to McNally.” He stepped in front of you and took your face in his hands. “Don’t look so troubled, we’re gonna be alright. We might be more than alright if McNally gets me in at the dealership. There’s better pay and benefits~”

“It’s not what you love to do.”

“If it means I can take care of you, I love it.”

You slipped your arms around his torso, hugging him. He hugged you back.

“It’s all gonna work out,” He promised. He pulled away first, ducking his head to kiss your lips before he walked away. “Maybe you and Sinclair can go out tonight instead. You should take your car for a drive anyway. You’ll kill that battery leaving it sitting in the driveway all the time.”

“I’ll call her.”

“Brighten up, sugar,” He laughed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You tried to smile. “I believe you.”

Joel secured a job working at Bibby McNally’s car dealership and, while it wasn’t something he was passionate about, he made the most of it. It was a high scale dealership and they had a lot of traffic all year round so it was never a dull moment. At times you could see him becoming drained and uninterested, but he insisted that working there was good for the two of you.

He was home more often and you got to spend more time together. It was exactly what you wanted, however, you felt guilty about him losing his job and contact with his parents.

One evening after he got off of work he came barreling into the house calling out for you. You rushed to meet him in the living room.

“What happened?” You asked in alarm.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” He said with excitement behind his words. “Guess who came into the dealership today. Guess.”

“Wha~ Who?” You asked, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Elvis,” Joel said, enthusiastically. “Elvis-fucking-Presley.”

“W-What?” You tried not to let your expression grow horrified. “He did?”

“Can you believe that?” Joel walked past you in the direction of your bedroom, loosening the tie around his neck. “He came in lookin some kinda Roadrunner. I was trying to get a Pontiac off my hands and all of the sudden the lady I’m selling to screams at the top of her lungs. I turn around and there he is.”

“Did you talk to him?” You asked, following him to the room. You stopped him before he walked to the bathroom. “I’m not done.”

“I talked to him.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “He has some time off from filming, I guess.”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms to stop your hands from fidgeting.

He nodded as he slipped off his shiny dress shoes and tucked them under the foot of the bed. “He said he wanted us to come back with him to Graceland over the weekend.”

“You told him about us?” You asked.

“Yeah, he was as shocked as you could imagine.” Joel laughed. “He said he’d arrange for us to fly out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked.

“You’ve asked me a hundred questions since I walked through the door,” He said. “Tell me what you think. We should go right?”

“I-I don’t know, it’s so all of a sudden, y-y’know,” You stammered. “You have work and we’re starting a new book in my club~”

“Sweetheart.” He stood from the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re seriously telling me that you’d pass this up to go read a book?”

“You have work.”

“I can get away for a weekend,” He said. “It could be fun. We could see Dawn while we’re there. And Cynthia—Andrea, maybe.”

“You aren’t going to let this go are you?”

“A hundred and one questions.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll never ask you for anything again if you’ll just go with me tomorrow. It’ll feel like old times.”

“For you maybe.” You walked back into the bathroom.

“Finish up in there so I can shower,” He called as you shut the door. “I wanna help you cook.”

“Just a minute.” You leaned forward against the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. For a moment you saw your old self reflected back at you. Just hearing his name made you feel small and panicky. Knowing that he was in the same state didn’t make it any easier to breathe. You hadn’t seen him since~

Let me t-try to be better. Just give me a chance, baby, please.

You closed your eyes and tried to physically shake away the sudden memory. Was it possible for a heart to stay broken for this long?

You couldn’t see him. You didn’t want to see him. You’d put him out of your mind, escaped the hold he had on you. You’d worked so hard to rebuild yourself after he’d broken you down. You were at a place in your life where you were so sure of everything, you didn’t want to see him and lose all that progress.

You were in love with Joel and the two of you were prepared to build a life together. You didn’t want Elvis’ presence to taint that in any way.

“I wonder if Sonny and Lamar’ll be there tomorrow night,” Joel continued from outside of the bathroom. “Maybe Red and Billy too.”

“I don’t know,” You responded in the steadiest tone you could muster.

“I’m sure they’ll be there,” He continued. “You remember my cousin Jerry?”

You took slow breaths and stood upright with your hands on your hips. “I’m sure they’ll all be there, Joel.”

He laughed. “Tell me you’ll go. I don’t wanna havta drag you kicking and screaming.”

You swallowed harshly as you started putting away the makeup you had strewn across the counter. “Can we come back Sunday?”

“Yeah,” He responded, delighted with your capitulation. “We can come back whenever you want.”

You took one last deep breath and put on a decent expression before leaving the bathroom. “I don’t want to be gone too long, that’s all.”

“I’ll get you back home before you can even start to miss it.” He smiled as he watched you leave the room.

“Perfect.”

You went to figure out where he’d hidden your cigarettes. You pulled open a few kitchen drawers and shuffled through them before you found the slim, silver case. Your mind raced as you used the stove to light the cigarette before turning off the burner. You hadn’t smoked since Joel insisted that you quit weeks ago, but you couldn’t think of any other way to calm your nerves. You’d start your streak over tomorrow.

When Joel finally got out of the shower, he found you standing by the window in the living room. You were on your second cigarette and so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him at first.

“You better put that out,” He chided, walking over. “I told you what they’ve been saying about them things.”

“Luther Terry’s fighting a losing battle,” You muttered, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the windowsill.

“I ain’t seen you smoke a cigarette in weeks.” He stood behind you and put his arms around your waist.

“I know.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Are you still going to Virginia with Bibby?” You asked in an attempt to avoid the question.

“Yeah…” He fell silent for a moment. “It should be the last trip for a while. Once convention season’s over I’m all yours.”

You walked out of his arms. “You should wear the navy suit you wore last week. I know you lost your red tie~”

“You’re upset.” He followed you to the kitchen.

“I’m fine.” You tried to smile, forcing back all of the thoughts that were threatening to consume you. “I’ll find your tie.”

You continued taking the pots and pans down to start cooking.

“How is Bibby anyway?” You wanted to fill the silence. “The baby?”

“He’s good, the baby’s good,” Joel said. “He says Yvette’s a natural…”

You tried to listen as Joel went on about Bibby and Yvette, but you were too preoccupied–too full of dread.

After all you’d gone through, you were walking back into the belly of the beast.

“Don’t get me in too much trouble,” Joel said handing you your second flute of champagne. “I don’t want no misdemeanor for aiding and abetting.”

“You’re a year older than me, Joel. Don’t you think I can handle a little champagne by now?” You laughed and took the glass.

“We’ll see.” He shrugged.

“Not too much for you tonight either. You’re driving.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m barely buzzin.” He slipped his arm around your waist and kissed you with gin-stained lips. The two of you parted at the sound of Joel’s name being called over the music, turning your heads in the direction of the voice. He lit up when he saw who it was. You smiled as they embraced each other.

“How have you been?” Joel asked.

“Alright,” Jerry responded with an indolent shrug. “This her?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, slipping his arm around your waist and introducing you.

“Right.” Jerry repeated your name as if it rang a bell and you exchanged brief pleasentries. “Look, E.P. wants y’all to come up. He sent me to find you.”

You took another sip of your drink after Joel quickly accepted the invitation. You probably shouldn’t have been drinking, you were beyond queasy and the champagne wasn’t helping–not to mention that it tasted like battery acid. You finished the glass anyway, hoping that, if anything, it would calm your nerves.

“Come on, baby,” Joel said, taking the glass from you and abandoning it at the bar with his own. He took your hand in his and leaned in to speak in your ear. “You can still let me know if you change your mind while we’re up there.” You nodded, forcing a small smile before letting him lead you as he followed Jerry to the elevators. The music from the party faded behind the doors and all that remained was the gentle melody of the elevator music. “How long y’all been in Georgia?”

“Since yesterday. E heard about the dealership so he wanted to pass through.”

“How’d he hear about it?”

“I’m not too sure.”

Their voices faded to the background. All you heard was the sound of your heartbeat accelerating. After so long, you wondered if he’d be different. Your fear and panic was beginning to be replaced by other things that you didn’t want to acknowledge let alone describe. Because having to describe those feelings would’ve meant admitting they were there.

The elevator stopped on the top floor and you forced your feet to move. Jerry led you to the suite and opened the door without knocking. “I found them, E,” He said, walking in first.

His eyes met yours almost instantly. Those baby blue eyes that were so familiar yet so distanced from the ones you knew. He still had that youthful glow about him as he smiled and stood to greet the two of you. His gaze lingered on you briefly but no longer than a second. “Joel, ol boy.” His voice caused your breath to hitch. It was different somehow, deeper and richer, but so familiar. Like an old song who’s melody you’d forgotten but still knew all the words to. You could’ve been making it all up. It could’ve been that he was exactly as you'd left him but his beauty had already started to fade in your memory. “I’m glad y’all could make it.”

“Yeah, so are we.” Joel smiled and asked if he remembered you.

“Of course,” Elvis said, shifting his attention to you. He had an amused glint in his eyes as he smiled at you. “How have you been, honey?”

“Okay.” You tried to smile, breaking eye contact for a moment. “How have you been?”

“Okay,” He said, before turning to retake his seat, the people sitting at the table with him cleared the space. “Sit down here a minute and a tell me what you’ve been up to, Joel. I saw you weren’t with your dad anymore.”

“No, I haven’t been for a while,” Joel said, pulling out a chair for you. “We had some differences of opinion.”

“Help yourself to a drink if you want,” Elvis offered. “We can get whatever you prefer.”

“I’m okay,” Joel said. They each looked to you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“D’you want a drink?” Elvis repeated.

“No, thank you.” You avoided his eyes.

He moved on with his conversation with Joel and you noticed a smirk gracing his features when you glanced his way. “What happened with your old man? I thought you two were close.”

“I thought we were. But my folks didn’t exactly approve when I told them we was getting married.”

“Married?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Joel must’ve not mentioned it before.

“I held off telling them. I knew they’d have something to say about it, but…”

“What’d they say?”

“Daddy fired me from the shop and I haven’t spoken to them since.”

Elvis grimaced. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Joel shrugged. “It’s a shame but I can’t change their minds about anything.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. You make an interesting pair.”

“Interesting how?”

Both their gazes turned to you when you spoke.

“Unexpected, I should say,” Elvis rephrased. “How’d you get caught up with Joel?“

“We ran into each other one day.” You tore your eyes away and looked at Joel.

“Why were you in Georgia?” Elvis asked.

“For a change of scenery. ” You opened your purse and retrieved your case of cigarettes—your nerves were getting the best of you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Elvis said. “You know Dawny retired?”

“She mentioned it.” You nodded.

“She’s up in her own place now,” He said. “I check on her when I can.”

“That’s nice. I wish I could visit more,” You responded.

“I wish you could too,” He uttered, picking up a lighter from the table. “Light?”

You put the slim, white cigarette between your lips and leaned toward him as he struck the lighter. You sat back in your seat after the cigarette was lit, avoiding eye contact with both him and Joel.

“So you’re sellin cars now?” Elvis asked Joel, sliding a porcelain ashtray over to you.

“Mhm.”

“How d’you like it?”

“It’s a job.”

The conversation flowed awkwardly. It was almost as if they had to actively think of every question they were going to ask—preoccupied by other things. Eventually the three of you returned to the party happening downstairs. Elvis naturally drew the attention of everyone in the room. There was something different about him that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but steal a glance whenever he wasn’t looking. He radiated a certain energy that drew you in and made you want to watch.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked. He hadn’t left your side since you got there and upon hearing that he was going to get your things from the car you must’ve looked panicked. He took your face in his hands and searched your eyes for the answer but you smiled and tried to distract him with a kiss. He stopped you. “Tell me.”

“Nothing.” You were a terrible liar. “I’ll help you.”

“No,” He said quickly. “It’s fine. And you don’t have to stay down here, you can go up to the room if you want. They say we’re heading out sometime tonight.”

“‘Sometime tonight’ meaning…god knows when?”

“Pretty much.”He laughed before letting you go. “Head upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You watched him leave before going to find the elevator. You couldn’t breathe.

You found the room Elvis had reserved specifically for you and Joel. You were relieved to be alone in the silence, but you felt uneasy knowing that he was downstairs and he knew where you were. The hours passed and soon it was nearly three in the morning. You were exhausted but you couldn’t sleep if you tried. Joel hadn’t come up the entire night and you wanted to be angry but tried anyway to give him time to be around old friends. He was familiar with their grueling routine—you weren’t. When he did finally return you were on the brink of sleep.

“Come on, sugar, we’re heading out.”

“God, what time is it?”

“I don’t know…it’s early.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re drunk.”

He laughed but ultimately shook his head in denial. “I’m fine.”

“You left me up here all night,” You complained as you slipped your shoes on. “I couldn’t change my clothes or anything. You could’ve checked on me once.”

“Time got away,” He said, grabbing your purse and holding his hand out for you. “They’re waiting on us.”

“Can I get myself together for a minute?”

“You’re perfect, come on.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the room—smoothing the skirt of your dress as he dragged you along.

You leaned your head against the window the entire drive to Memphis. Elvis had offered to fly you out but Joel insisted on driving. The two of you had planned to go straight to Virginia to meet Bibby afterwards.

You passed the time by trying to keep your doom at bay.

#elvis presley #elvis imagine #elvis fluff #elvis smut #elvis x black reader #elvis x you #black reader #elvis presely smut #austin butler #the bikeriders

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reidsc0nverse · 1 year

Text

A Rose by Any Other Name (Chapter Two)

Summary: Reader accompanies Emily to a club during a case where Spencer shows her one of his many talents with the help of the one and only Derek Morgan.

Warnings: Language (not much at all)

AN: This is based on episode 4x9 (obviously) and basically goes along with the story. Also let's pretend Courtney (the bartender) wasn't the object of Spencer's attention for his magic trick. K thanks.

Series Masterlist

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The other day when I walked through the doors of the BAU I was not expecting to be thrown into my job, but of course, it happened.

I was in the technical analyst Penelope Garcia's office when all of a sudden JJ (as she now told me I can call her) went into labor. How wonderful.

I mean don't get me wrong I'm so happy for her, but I still had a good week of training that I could've used.

That was two weeks ago, so now I'm fully in my spot as Communications Liaison, and not to brag or anything.. I'm doing pretty well.

Right now we've been working a case in Atlanta where a guy of the "Alpha Male" type would kill women that he would pick up from the local bars. The team came to the conclusion that he was getting his tips from a pick up artist that seems to be teaching his skills to other men.

They call him "Viper" and, according to Emily, he's a real treat.

"He's a grade A asshole." she huffs walking into the room of the precinct I'm in.

"That bad?" I ask and she slumps into the chair next to mine.

"He makes me wanna gauge my eyes out." She says, laughing, but clearly annoyed. So far while I've been on the team she and I have gotten pretty close and she's honestly one of my favorite people.

"I'm so glad I wasn't there." I say, shaking my head. I've dealt with one too many narcissists on a personal level so if I had to listen to a guy go on for ages about how to play hard to get with a girl or blatantly insult them to get them attracted to him I'd probably lose my mind.

"Time to give the profile" Derek says as he sticks his head in the room. Emily sighs and walks out with me to the rest of the team.

They go on giving out details to the local PD and I drone out until Spencer talks to me, or at me kind of. "I like those earrings, yeah my grandma has a lot of fake jewelry also."

PARDON?

He smiles and waves it off as not serious, which I understood he was only exemplifying what our unsub does but it didn't diminish the fact that it was funny as hell.

After the team finishes I get up and Spencer walks towards me, "Um, sorry about that. I just needed to show them what the unsub learned from Viper."

I laugh and wave him off, "No no don't apologize it's fine, it gave me a good laugh so I'm really not hurt by it."

He smiles and Hotch calls us over to where the rest of the team stands.

They explain that we need to see about more of what the unsub may have learned back at the group discussions and they hint that Emily is gonna need to go back and talk to Viper.

"Oh. Oh god, this is really gonna suck."

A little later, Emily comes to me after the team splits up with a cheeky look on her face and her hands behind her back.

"Y/NNNNN...." she drags.

"Oh god what do you want." I say playfully, already knowing what she's gonna say.

"You know, Derek is bringing Spencer as a wingman, so maybe you coulddd..."

"Fine fine, but if we're hitting the club I don't think my work attire is gonna cut it." I say, looking down at the blouse and black pair of pants I'm wearing.

She shakes her head, "Ah, no worries, I have something you might fit in." She pulls out two dresses from behind her back and hands one to me.

"So you just happen to have party wear in your go bag?" I ask, looking at the black tight fit dress now in my hands.

"We go to some interesting places." She smirks and smacks my shoulder lightly, continuing, "Come on, I'll help you get ready."

She takes my hand and we go to the PD locker room, getting changed and she gets her makeup out.

"I thought you hated this guy, now you're getting all dolled up." I tease her, she laughs and starts applying her eye makeup.

"I take every opportunity I can get to look hot as shit with a job like this. Plus, we're still going to the club." She jokes back and after a couple minutes we're done getting ready and meet up with Derek and Spencer at the car.

"Heyy, looking good ladies." Derek says with a cocky smile and Spencer waves at me awkwardly.

"How flattering." Emily says and then huffs, turning to me, "You better help me through dealing with this worm."

"Of course" I say, hand on my heart and all.

Once we get to the club we decide to split up, Derek and Spencer asking girls in the club if they've seen anyone similar to our unsub, and Emily going up ahead of me while we face this nightmare of a man.

She tells me to stay back until the right time and I watch her play her game of flirting while continuing to intrigue the man. She looks back at me when he gets a little too confident and a little too close so I walk towards them, Viper's eyes following me carefully.

The conversation goes as usual, some mindless snarky remarks tossed around as he starts discussing eye contact, more specifically pupil dilation.

"Okay fifteen seconds." Emily says in response to the eye contact that Viper has been making with me, and trying to prove a point.

"What do you see?" I ask.

"Nope, no dilation."

Viper comes quick with his response, "Ah, because you have someone else on the mind."

Do I? Maybe. I don't know. No.

Emily eyes me teasingly and the conversation between us and Viper goes stale until he gives us just what we want for the case. He gives us that our unsub is going to go for his "queen bee," the focus on all his killing.

Emily calls Hotch with our findings and I meet up with Derek and Spencer as they talk, or..bicker maybe.

"Come here pretty girl," Derek says to me, I comply, confused but still.

"Pretend she's someone you're showing the unsub to, use that magic." Derek says to Spencer, putting me in front of him, but he explains to me that apparently Spencer isn't having any luck giving the profile out to the girls at the club so now he's doing..magic?

I don't know how he's not having luck, he's an attractive guy. I would feel like girls would go crazy trying to talk to him but I guess not.

Spencer looks at me like he really doesn't wanna do this, but he goes with it anyway. "Don't worry I'll play along" I tell him and he seems comforted in that.

He begins by acting as though we've never met and asks me if I've seen the man in the drawing before, I nod no and he pulls out a pen.

"We have reason to believe he has a scar about right..here." He says, running the pen through the paper and moving it around, leaving no rips in the paper.

"Woah, woah. What? How did you do that?" I ask, inspecting the paper.

He shrugs and smirks, "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Derek laughs and pats his back, "That's what I'm talking about, pretty boy!"

After the case ends smoothly we arrive at the BAU once again and settle everything down. I go to JJ's office which is mine temporarily and get some paperwork out of the way with Emily.

"So, don't mean to remind you of Viper, but, is there someone on your mind?" She asks teasingly.

"Oh god." I groan and put my face in my hands.

She snickers and responds, "Oh so there is!"

"Maybe." I say, dragging the word out. "But I don't know, he doesn't really know me that well."

She nods, I feel like she sees right through me.

"Seems like you and Spencer kind of had a good time earlier."

I choke on my own spit, "Um what?" I say, coughing. Covering my mouth as well as the slight pink coming onto my face.

She smiles and nods her head as a tall figure walks in the doorway. "Speak of the devil." She says and walks out, I look up and see Spencer, so now she's leaving me and him alone.

His eyebrows furrow, and I wave it off.

"Hello there, Houdini." I say smiling up at him, he laughs and leans against the doorway.

"You know it's an easy trick, nothing up to Houdini's standard."

I shrug. "Eh, still impressive."

Things are quiet for a moment and there's a hint of tension in the air until he clears his throat and starts.

"You looked really nice today, by the way. Just thought I'd say." His face goes red and I smirk.

"You came all this well to compliment me?" I tease. He laughs sheepishly and shakes his head.

"No, no. I was um, I was coming to ask you if maybe you wanted to grab a coffee or something. Maybe I could show you how I really do that trick?"

He was nervous, obviously. But that didn't help the grin on my face growing and trying to hold back the blush that's definitely growing on my face.

"I thought magicians couldn't tell anyone how they do their tricks." I reply, more calmly than I thought I would've, I mean I'm just trying to play it cool.

"I can make an exception. I'll let you know, I have your number right?"

I nod and he smiles again and sticks up an awkward thumbs up, "Cool. Well, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Spencer" I say playfully and as we walks out to the hallway I peek out and see Derek standing by the doors that leave the office with a cheeky look. I can see the back of Spencer's head nod and Derek raise his arms, saying something but they're too far to hear.

Guessing Derek convinced him to go for it.

Good thing.

---------------------༺⚘༻---------------------

I'm gonna be real and say I kinda hate this chapter but I promise it gets good. ALSO TYSM ON THE SUPPORT FOR THE LAST PART IM SO GRATEFUL UGH.

taglist: @darkenwolfie @justlivinginadaydream @daddy-dotcom @itsametaphorbriansblog @rosesandlavendertea @4karaa

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gbsweatequityfitness · 5 months

Text

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hangtightwmarcie · 1 year

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youtube

Brand new!! Just posted today.

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heroesandkingz · 1 year

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youtube

#bodybuildin

#atlanta #entrepreneur #bodybuilder #weight training #calisthenics #fitnessmotivation #private training in gyms for weight loss #fitness #health #podcast #atlantatrainer #mlb #nfl #athlete #success #wealth #health & fitness #safety #Youtube

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nalyra-dreaming · 9 months

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@raven--stag replied to your post “Me: sees someone refer to how badly Lestat treated...”:

There are TRAIN SCHEDULES?? Can you elaborate please (if you have time and don't mind doing it ofc) because honestly, I've never considered the possibility that he wasn't the one who brought her back, it always just kind of made sense to me

Alright. I first did the research for that for chapter 42 of "Laden as the sea", which of course dealt with that scene. (I'm adapting my explanations from there)

Now, in short:

Lestat cannot have brought Claudia back as told.

(which does not mean that a similar scene did not happen... just not as told.)

Because:

In-universe, these characters are rooted to it. As is what we're told, and what is used to set the scenes.

The train Claudia wanted to take was likely the Crescent, which ran daily from 1941 on. (This“one year discrepancy” in the tale is a constant thing btw here a post of the now deactivated a-savagegarden on this.) The Crescent leaves NOLA at 9am these days, BUT then…. It left at 11pm :)

(source)

Now…. Louis tells us of Lestat doing the “Birmingham, Alabama” spiel, and the train Claudia being on the “New York Limited”. The Crescent does NOT stop in Birmingham, however the “Piedmont Limited” does. 5,5h into the journey (if I read these correctly).

The cities quoted (Birmingham. Atlanta. Greensboro. Washington, D.C.) fit the timetable there, too. However… the Piedmont left at 5pm. And sunset was around 7:30pm.

Which is why I think Louis maybe thought Claudia was on the Limited, when in reality she had to go and take the Crescent simply for time-reasons. (And since he had no intention to go with her this detail was never important to him.)

Now. The radio broadcast we hear when Louis comes back was given September 3rd, 1939, after 5:30 am.

(A word to the next scene in the show here: I noticed that the radio broadcast Louis listens to… is the same as was on when he came back from “teasing the sun”, as mentioned above, after Claudia was brought back by Lestat, namely this part of it: “every word that comes through the air, every ship that sails the sea, every battle that is fought does affect the American future.” Given that this is clearly a different evening though - it’s another piece of the puzzle which does … not fit, but is likely a twisted memory, and another one of those “details” which actually are not really important… but still proof of this not being (able to be) the (whole) truth. (Another thing that indicates the discrepancy imho is the fact that there’s two radios in their parlor… one next to Louis, one next to Lestat.))

But back to that evening, and Louis' return.

Let’s make that 6am, since he said he cut it close.

IF Claudia actually told Louis afterwards that Lestat caught her and brought her back from Alabama, then on the Crescent it might have been Montgomery. Which the Crescent reached at 7:20am… after sunrise. So that makes that rather unlikely.

The Crescent leaving at 11pm and Louis coming home at 6am gives whatever happened in-between a 7h time frame. If the trains need 5,5h to Birmingham… not enough time.

Totally apart from the timetables though there is also logistics to consider.

When Louis comes home Claudia sits there, with her luggage (and her tuba). I know I wrote in the other fic that Lestat flew back with her, but I actually doubt it.

Claudia had had to go back from the park to get her luggage and bring it to the train (station). IF she actually made it onto the train with all of that and nobody noticing, then I think Lestat caught her while still at the station.

Because the return train schedule (of the Crescent and Express) is in the afternoon and the Piedmont Limited would have arrived at NOLA only after sunrise. (Of course there would be other trains they could take, but those would be even slower…?!)

So I think Claudia never left NOLA. Which does NOT mean that the train scene in and by itself did not happen, as said before (even the controller), but… I think Louis mixed what Claudia told him afterwards (or what she let him see in her mind, which might not have been all that was to it, given her later diary entries) with what he thought/feared had happened. With the trains he expected her to be on, and which went by certain cities. There is no diary to underline the scene, Louis tells Daniel of this event after it is noted in the show that the previous interview had stopped before this point, so Daniel has no reference anymore. It is Louis’ interpretation of what Claudia told/showed him, recounted for a certain... effect.

So I do think a scene similar to what we saw happened. But exactly like that? Not likely, imho, not the least because of the many, many parallels to events from Lestat’s past here (and which neither Claudia nor Louis would know at this point).

And of course Claudia would be plotting her own game by then, which, in later book canon at least, included manipulating Louis.

And, last but not least, supposedly Claudia knew Antoinette was there with Louis at the park when she left for the train, as is revealed in episode 7. I always find that hugely interesting in retrospect, considering her comment to him and the mentioned later book twist.

#raven--stag #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #vc meta #interview with the vampire meta #claudia de lioncourt #lestat de lioncourt #train #train schedules #crescent #piedmont limited

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clarepreed · 1 year

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First Date

Story Content and Summary - 5,563 words. After recovering from the events in Stressed to Death, Ginnie and Holly are on their first official date. Despite their obvious chemistry, a freak accident threatens to tear them apart forever. Commotio cordis, on-site resuscitation.🏳️‍🌈

Ginnie waited on a bench outside the restaurant, repeatedly wiping her damp hands on her sundress. She wasn’t sure she’d worn the right thing; she liked this dress, and she thought she looked pretty in it, but now she was worried she was too dressed up. Or not dressed up enough. Ginnie tapped her fingers on her thighs, rocking slightly on the bench.

I’m too early. I’m just going to sit here and nervously sweat, she thought. Holly will worry if I seem nervous.

Then: When do I NOT seem nervous?!

Ginnie huffed at herself and stood, automatically smoothing her dress down in the back and patting the skirt to make sure she hadn’t dropped her wallet or her phone.

“Hey, Ginnie! Are you okay? Am I late?” Holly’s husky voice interrupted Ginnie’s spiraling train of thought.

Ginnie whirled around, her face blushing hot. Holly stopped a few steps away on the sidewalk, looking cute in slim fit brown pants and a boat necked shirt. Ginnie squeaked out: “Hi! No, you’re early! Um… I’m just nervous.”

Before Holly could reply, Ginnie blurted: “Just a normal amount of nervous. Not ‘die on the sidewalk’ nervous.”

Ginnie was looking at Holly’s nose, but she still took in the strange expression that passed over the other woman’s face.

I’m making her uncomfortable.

Ginnie opened her mouth to apologize, but Holly interrupted her, her mouth breaking into a wide smile. “I want to laugh, but I don’t know if I should.”

“Oh, please do,” Gennie said, her hands twisting in her skirt. “That’s why I said it. I joke a lot when I’m nervous.”

Holly took a step closer, her hands plunging into her pockets and then pulling them straight back out. Her eyes skimmed over Ginnie, setting off a warm tingly feeling in Ginnie’s belly. “Hey, um, you look really pretty. That’s a nice dress.”

“It has pockets!” Ginnie exclaimed, demonstrating by slipping her hand in one.

“That’s great. Uh… may I give you a hug?”

Instead of responding verbally, Ginnie lurched forward and threaded her arms around Holly’s ribs. She squeezed the taller woman tight.

“Yes,” she murmured, her lips brushing Holly’s collarbone. Holly’s arms folded around her and they stood for several seconds in silence. Finally, Ginnie said: “You smell good. Spicy?”

“You smell sweet. Like candy.”

“That’s because I ate a bunch of Jolly Ranchers on the bus.”

Holly chuckled. They were embracing for much longer than normal, or so Ginnie assumed. Not that she minded. She could hear Holly’s heart beating fast and strong beneath her ear. The other woman’s embrace was warm and firm. Tears suddenly pricked Ginnie’s eyes, and she murmured: “Thank you.”

Holly leaned back, though she didn’t release her grip on Ginnie. “Are you okay? What are you thanking me for?”

“It’s just that we haven’t seen each other since I got out of the hospital. Texting isn’t the same. Thank you for saving my life. I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, Ginnie. I’m really glad you’re back in the city.” Holly laughed. “I was afraid you’d decide to stay with your parents. I mean, if you did, I was going to ask you out anyway. But it’s nice to have you here.”

“I’ve never dated a woman who hasn’t had at least one super long-distance relationship.”

“God, that’s so true.” Holly squeezed her and then released the hug. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes! This is my favorite restaurant!” Ginnie gushed, gesturing for Holly to follow her. “The owners are from Seoul and Atlanta. The menu is small but really varied and even my parents were happy with the food! They have the best starters… The acoustics are good inside, too. It’s never too loud. This place is my comfort restaurant. I hope you like it!”

Holly stepped up to the door and pulled it open. “After you. I looked up the menu when you suggested this place and it sounds great. Of course… I just really like food.”

There was a small line at the host stand, so they joined at the end. Ginnie pointed up at the vaulted ceiling. “They have art up there! Little sculptures of birds.”

Holly stepped close and looked up. Ginnie felt something at her side and glanced down, spotting Holly’s hand held out to her, palm up. She reached down and took it, a blush running up her chest to her face. Holly bumped her arm against Ginnie’s. “Was that smooth?”

Ginnie snorted and clapped her free hand over her mouth.

“I made you snort,” Holly said, looking over at Ginnie. Holly pulled her pretty lips into yet another big smile. “And blush.”

Dropping her hand down to fidget with her skirt, Ginnie said: “I like you.”

Holly squeezed her hand. “I like you, too.”

“I don’t feel as shy as I thought I would,” Ginnie murmured. They were getting close to the host stand now.

“Good. Only good vibes tonight.”

“How many?” the host asked. “Two?”

“Yes,” Ginnie and Holly spoke simultaneously.

“As soon as Tom gets over… Here he is. Enjoy your meal, ladies.”

They followed the server, walking through the dining room, still holding hands. Ginnie registered small sounds; the clink of silverware on plates, the murmur of voices, soft instrumental music. A snapping sound, followed by a sharp zzzzzzzzzt!

Something small and dark flew at them, too fast to avoid, and she heard a soft thump followed by a short huff of air from Holly.

Holly dropped like a stone, so suddenly that Ginnie had little time to do more than clench the abruptly limp hand in her own. The weight on her arm jerked her down to one knee. Holly sprawled face down on the floor, making no effort to break her own fall.

“What the fuck was that?” she heard someone say, their voice loud in the quiet room.

“Holly?” Ginnie heard her own voice, high-pitched and wobbling with surprise and worry. She released Holly’s hand and turned to put both of her knees on the floor, her hands resting on Holly’s back. Her date lay still and silent, unresponsive to her touch or her voice. “Holly! What happened?”

Ginnie shook her, then looked up. The room fell silent; a few seconds later she heard someone tentatively call out: “Hey, is she okay?”

Crawling around to Holly’s other side, Ginnie leaned close to her face. To her shock, Holly’s big warm eyes were open, staring, seeming to look through her. Her lips were slack, a glistening line of drool stretching from the corner of her mouth down to the floor.

“HOLLY! HOLLY!” Shouting in her panic, Ginnie dimly registered that she was kneeling on some kind of cord or rope, and she reached down to touch it. “What…”

“Is she breathing?” Tom the server asked.

Ginnie closed her eyes so she could concentrate and leaned closer, lifting the back of her hand next to Holly’s lips. She waited, her other hand coming up to stop her ear, using the closest one to listen to any sounds that might come from Holly. Eventually, however, she opened her eyes and stared up at the red-faced server. “N-no…”

“I’ll… I’ll get the manager,” Tom said, staring at them for several more seconds before scurrying away.

“Fuck the manager!” someone said. “Call 9-1-1!”

Ginnie rocked back and forth for a few seconds before she shook her head violently and reached for Holly.

I need to put on her back, right? Ginnie pushed on Holly’s shoulder and hip, rolling her clumsily onto her side and then tipping her onto her back. Holly flopped as though her bones had dissolved. Ginnie gasped, spotting a dark stain soaking into her pants. She peed herself? That can’t be good.

“That!” a woman’s voice. The dining room was growing loud now, as people shouted and pushed back their chairs. “That thing on the floor! That’s what hit her!”

It should be me, Ginnie thought wildly, desperately trying to filter out the sounds in the room. Holly’s the one who knows what to do!

“Someone call 9-1-1, dammit!” a man shouted. A glass smashed to the floor and someone ran by in clicky-clacky high heels.

“I did! I did, I’m on the phone—”

“Miss!” A woman’s voice cut through the din. “I’m Melissa, the manager. What happened?”

Melissa crouched at Holly’s other side, then reached out to tip her head back, opening up the line of her neck. She leaned close, her ear by the unconscious woman’s slack mouth. Holly’s tan skin was growing ashen by the second, and Ginnie realized with a sick feeling that her lips were turning blue. “She’s not breathing!” the manager snapped, and then she leaned over Holly, her fingers moving along the lifeless woman’s ribcage.

Ginnie watched as the manager pressed the heels of her hands between Holly’s breasts and then pushed down hard. Holly let out another huff of air, and Melissa called out: “One!”

Numb with shock, Ginnie stared as the woman’s clasped hands pumped Holly’s chest, making her stomach pop up against the waistband of her pants. She could see the shadow of her ribcage bobbing up and down in time with the shrug of her shoulders.

“…six, seven, eight, nine, ten—Miss? Are you comfortable giving her breaths?”

A few seconds passed, and Ginnie stammered: “Wh-what? Breaths? Yes, I…”

“Tip her head back to keep her airway open! Twenty-three, twenty-four…”

Ginnie’s hands shook as she rested one hand on Holly’s forehead, then the other on her chin. She vaguely remembered doing this years ago in her college health class. Of course, that had been a mannequin. Not happy, sexy, kind Holly.

Help her, help her, help her…

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Pinch her nose, NOW!”

Ginnie pinched Holly’s nose and then bent over her, hesitating only a second before drawing a deep breath and sealing her mouth over Holly’s. She heard a rush of air between them as she exhaled forcefully.

“Faster!” the manager ordered, and Ginnie gave Holly a second quick breath. Holly’s mouth was soft and damp, her skin still warm with the life that had flowed through her moments before.

Then the manager continued chest compressions. Ginnie remained hunched over Holly, her fingers pinching her nose and her other hand on Holly’s chin. She could feel her head wobbling from side to side as Melissa worked on her. Her gaze fell unbidden on Holly’s dark eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

“Holly, Holly, Holly, Holly…” she muttered under her breath. Her own heart pounded a panicked rhythm.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

“There’s an ambulance on the way,” a man said from somewhere above her. “But my friend went looking across the road for an AED!”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Ginnie was faster this time, her mouth closing over Holly’s and delivering an efficient breath that made her date’s chest rise before she broke the seal. It rose again quickly with the second breath. Holly’s forced exhale blew into Ginnie’s face as the manager resumed chest compressions.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

She felt herself rocking over Holly’s motionless form and made herself stop, swallowing hard. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, though Ginnie couldn’t identify what she was feeling other than panic.

“—flagged one down at the intersection! They’re coming!”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“An ambulance?”

“Are we in danger from the other—”

“—cops coming, too? ‘Cause—”

“Twenty-eight,” Ginnie muttered in time with the manager before dragging in a breath for Holly. She covered her lips, hoping they weren’t cooling off, that she was just imagining things. Two breaths, two lifesaving kisses.

I wanted to kiss her for real, she thought, and then blurted out: “Is she dead?”

No one answered her.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

Ginnie released Holly’s nose and patted her cheek. Her voice came out quiet and broken. “Holly, Holly, Holly… No…”

“…nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” Chest compressions looked painful, though Ginnie knew Holly couldn’t feel them now. She thought she could hear the occasional crackle when the manager’s hands forced Holly’s chest down to beat her heart.

They hurt later. They hurt a lot later. They’ll hurt her later if she—

“…thirty!”

Ginnie pinched Holly’s nose and pushed two breaths into her lungs. A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto Holly’s chalky face. Ginnie wiped it off with the back of her hand.

“Everyone out of the way, let the medics in!” boomed the same man looming above her.

Everything seemed to speed up. Two people in dark blue uniforms pushed through the crowd, wheeling a gurney as they hurried across the room. Someone put a hand on her shoulder and said something she didn’t understand, though when they grasped her elbow she got the idea. She found herself sitting in a chair close by as the medics relieved the manager and one of them pressed gloved fingers into Holly’s neck.

“I’m going to close service,” she heard the manager say. “Quickly. No bills, no to-go boxes. Just politely get everyone out of here. I have to call Gray and tell him…”

“What happened?” the other medic asked, though Ginnie wasn’t sure who he was talking to. He’d opened a duffel beside him and was holding a plastic piece next to Holly’s face.

“Something hit her in the chest,” Ginnie said. Her voice came out too quiet, and she cleared her throat as he slipped the plastic piece between Holly’s teeth and turned it. “Something hit her in the chest and she just… fell…”

The first medic had already started chest compressions, and his hands looked huge against Holly’s chest. She could see Holly’s chest sink and her stomach bulge up each time he rolled his shoulders down.

“That’s it!” the man with the loud voice said. A man with a bald head and broad shoulders leaned into Ginnie’s line of sight and pointed at a silver-colored hunk of metal laying on the floor. An eyelet protruded from the top with a piece of frayed rope threaded through it. Several feet away were the scattered remains of a sculpted bird. “Those fucking birds, man…”

“Strike to the chest,” the second paramedic said. He finished assembling some kind of mask with a large bulb on one end and a line of tubing that lead to what Ginnie recognized was an oxygen canister. As the first medic paused compressions, the second pressed the mask to Holly’s face, lapping his fingers over her chin. His other hand squeezed the bulb twice.

“Get her on the monitor,” the first paramedic said. “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Cops are here,” the loud man said. “Uh, wife wants me to get out of your hair; I see her waving from the door.”

“Thank you, sir,” the second medic said. He’d pulled what looked like a duffel with an old school computer monitor in the front close to Holly and then drew a pair of shears out from another bag. He snipped the neckline of Holly’s shirt without preamble, then quickly cut through to the bottom when his colleague lifted his hands. He snipped Holly’s lightweight bra down the middle and across the straps, and then compressions resumed.

Ginnie blushed as Holly’s chest and stomach came into view. The other medic cut off the rest of Holly’s shirt while the first thrust his hands rhythmically into her sternum. Holly had moderately-sized, round breasts with large aureola, which wobbled in time with each chest compression.

“Miss?”

Ginnie blinked and looked away from Holly, toward the source of the voice.

Tom, the server, stood next to her, trying not to look at Holly. His face was pale aside from two ruddy spots on his cheeks. “Um, we are closed. I am sorry, but we need you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Ginnie gasped, incredulous. Anger made her face go hot and a few more tears squeeze out of her eyes. “That’s my… that’s my… that’s Holly, and—”

“Not her, Tom! Jesus, go back to the front.” Melissa, the manager, stepped between Tom and Ginnie. “That’s her girlfriend!”

Ginnie looked back at Holly. The man with the mask was giving her breaths, and as soon as he laid the mask down, he reached for a large packet. He cut the top open with the shears and dumped out a set of what Ginnie recognized as defibrillator pads and leads. As the first medic continued rocking his weight into Holly’s sternum, the second tore the backing off the first pad and smoothed it onto the skin above Holly’s right breast.

Holly’s head tipped to the side. Her eyes were still open, wide and startled-looking. Her chin nodded with each compression.

“Miss? Miss?” A hand gripped Ginnie’s shoulder, and she flinched, pulling herself out of the manager’s grip. “I’m sorry, jeez, I… What’s your name?”

The second pad went on Holly’s side, below her left breast. Shortly after, an angry-sounding alarm filled the air

“What?” Ginnie asked. The compressions looked scarier now that Holly was half-naked. She had an athletic body, but Ginnie thought her collarbones and fingers looked delicate, and the extended line of her neck appeared fragile as the medic turned her face back upright, pressing the mask over her nose and mouth. Ginnie gripped the seat of her chair, swaying side to side.

“Your name, sweetie.”

“Ginnie.”

“Pause for analysis,” one man said.

“There’s our backup,” the second said. Two more paramedics walked quickly through the restaurant, carrying their own set of bags.

“V-fib. Charging to three-sixty.”

Ginnie’s eyes darted from the newcomers to Holly, sprawled on her back with a medic pushing hard and fast on her chest. The medic suddenly raised his hands, and the other said: “All clear. Administering shock.”

“Ginnie, how—”

Holly’s torso jerked, and her limbs flinched. The second her body stilled, the original pair of medics switched places. Another pair of gloved hands found Holly’s chest and started forcing her sternum down toward the young woman’s heart. Steady beeping sounds emitted from the cardiac monitor.

“What have we got?” one of the new paramedics said. “I’m James, this is Sandra.”

“Chris and Scott. Witnesses say our patient, Holly, was struck in the chest by that counterweight. She was in ventricular fibrillation when we analyzed and I’ve given her one shock. James and Sandra, I need her intubated and her blood pressure.” Chris handed over Holly’s mask. “I’m going to prep a push dose of epi.”

“What?” Ginnie remembered that the manager was trying to talk to her. “What was that? I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie. Do you have a ride to the hospital when it’s time?”

“A ride?” Ginnie briefly squeezed her eyes closed. “A ride to the hospital?”

“I can take you. If you came here in an Uber or something… let me drive you.”

“I rode the bus…” Ginnie pressed both of her hands to her face. She could hear one of the medics quietly counting out chest compressions.

“Okay,” Melissa said. “Why don’t you let me drive you? I’ll pull my car up behind the ambulance and we can follow them.”

“Okay,” Ginnie said. “That’s fine. That’s fine. That’s… fine.”

“Do you know how to get hold of her family?” Melissa asked.

Ginnie dropped her hands into her lap and opened her eyes.

The view was even more frightening now. Four paramedics working on Holly. One of them injected something into Holly’s outstretched arm. Another continued to perform deep and rapid chest compressions, making Holly’s body rock and her stomach pop. A third pumped up a blood pressure cuff. The fourth, a woman, had Holly’s mouth open and a metal device wedged between her teeth. The woman held a tube in her other hand.

“Pause compressions,” she said. She was lying on her stomach, her face close to Holly’s.

Her name is Sandra.

The medic pumping Holly’s chest stopped. She saw Chris pluck a stethoscope from around his neck and plug the earpieces into his ears. Sandra quickly but carefully fed the tube down the metal device and into Holly’s throat.

Holly’s family.

“I have her mom’s number,” Ginnie said, her hands slowly reaching for her dress pocket. Chris had the bell of the stethoscope to Holly’s chest. “I… I can text her.”

“You’re in,” Chris said. “Continue chest compressions!”

Sandra unhooked the bag and used white tape to secure the tube in place, taping one end to Holly’s cheek, winding the tape around the tube and then tearing it off and pressing the end on Holly’s other cheek. She did this with a second piece of tape and then reconnected the bag. Ginnie watched her squeeze the bag between every ten or so compressions.

Ginnie slipped her phone from her pocket, unlocking the screen automatically.

“Will you be taking her to South or Harper?” she heard the manager ask.

“Harper,” Chris said. “Pause to analyze in five, four, three, two, one… Come on, now… Still in v-fib. Charging to three-sixty.”

“While you’re texting her mother, Ginnie…” the manager paused until Ginnie looked over at her. “While you’re texting her mother, I’m going to move my car, okay?”

“Oh… k-kay.” Tears ran down her cheeks again, this time at the thought of telling Holly’s mom what had happened.

“Everyone off? Clear…. Administering shock.”

Holly bowed up and relaxed. James slid in and took over chest compressions. Ginnie noticed he had black gloves instead of blue like everyone else.

Holly’s face was more visible now that she’d been intubated. Staring eyes. Full lips parted around the tube protruding between her teeth. There was a quiet whooshing sound every time Sandra squeezed the bag. Scott leaned in with the shears and cut from the waistband of Holly’s pants down to her knee. Then he pressed his fingers into her thigh crease.

Ginnie cradled her phone in her hands, opening the messaging app. She didn’t want to contact Holly’s mom. Not while they were resuscitating her. Not while a stranger shoved his hands between her breasts. Not while a tube ran down her throat. Not while a man connected her to an IV bag. Not while her pulse points were exposed and pressed.

Not with her ashen skin and bruised chest, her staring eyes.

What the fuck do I say? ‘Hello, Mrs. Diaz Aguilar. It’s Ginnie. We spoke that one time. Um, I have bad news. There was an accident with a bird in the restaurant. I don’t know what happened, but something hit Holly in the chest and now she’s dead.’

Ginnie swayed side to side, trying not to break out into sobs as she typed out: This is Ginnie Courier. Holly had an accident. They are going to take her to Harper General.

“Administering amio,” she heard Chris say.

The paramedic’s hands on Holly’s chest made noises with each chest compression. His gloves squeaked against each other and her soft-looking skin. His weight thumped into her unresponsive body. Ginnie wondered if she would still hear puffs of air escaping her if she were closer.

Her mind trailed back to her own time in the hospital, before her parents had made it up to see her. She’d wake up and Holly was always there, holding her hand. Dozing sometimes, but waking up as soon as she stirred. She was tender, even though they were essentially strangers to each other. Strangers with crushes and a strong, if newly formed, connection. Even in her hospital bed, her chest burning with pain, Ginnie felt her body respond to Holly’s touch. Holly’s smile. Holly’s voice.

I should have tried to kiss her then, she thought. But I was afraid it was too soon.

“Analysis in thirty seconds,” Chris said. He finished cutting off Holly’s pants, leaving her in a simple pair of hip-hugging underwear. Ginnie watched him run his hands and eyes over her legs; she assumed he was looking for injuries. As soon as he released them, Holly’s legs rocked in time with the relentless thrusts to her chest. He hadn’t removed her shoes, and Ginnie realized with a pang that they were both wearing a pair of high top Converse shoes, just in different colors.

“Pause compressions for analysis…” Chris had his fingers to the crease of Holly’s thigh again, and his eyes were on the monitor. “Still in v-fib. Resume compressions while I charge to three-sixty, then I want Sandra to sub in on the next round.”

Ginnie’s thumb hovered indecisively over the “send” symbol, the digital paper airplane that would send Holly’s mother down a spiral of anguish. Her own parents hadn’t learned of what happened to her until she was already stable. It had to hit differently. Even so, her parents had been acting strange ever since. Mom was over-solicitous. Dad kept giving her money.

Holly’s body rocked under another ten chest compressions and then the paramedics all leaned back, raising their hands.

“Everyone clear? Administering shock now.”

Holly flinched, her back coming up slightly off the floor, her breasts shaking, limbs jerking. She’d barely stilled, alarms screaming, before Sandra slid into place, her hands slotting between Holly’s breasts. The cycle of compressions and breaths continued.

Ginnie sent the text, shaking with sadness and trepidation.

“One, two, three, four…”

Holly remained limp. Scott squeezed the bag, sending oxygen into the tube running down Holly’s throat. Chris gave her another injection. Sandra rolled her shoulders over her hands, palms pumping Holly’s sternum. Holly’s stomach bulged, and her legs rocked.

Ginnie’s phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down and saw that Holly’s mother was calling her. Instantly, she felt as though her throat had closed up.

I can’t…

“…nine, ten! One, two, three…”

“Hold compressions! Rhythm and pulse check!”

The medics pressed their fingers to Holly’s neck, wrist, and groin. That’s when Ginnie noticed her eyes were closed.

“Holly?” she whispered.

“Sinus rhythm!” Chris said, sounding excited under his professional facade. “Pulse confirmed. We’ve got her!”

What’s wrong?!!!!! Holly’s mother texted. What happened?

Holly is aliv, Ginnie texted back, her fingers clumsy. call n a minute

Then she clutched her phone to her chest, rocking as she broke down into sobs.

Days later

Ginnie paced back and forth across the waiting room, her hands busy with a plastic tangle fidget. She had the vague feeling she was bothering people, but she felt like she had to keep moving or she might explode. She kept her path as far away from other people as she could. She had a single earbud in, her favorite playlist cranked a little too loud for hearing safety. She was trying to drown out her own thoughts, though she didn’t want to put in both earbuds and miss someone calling for her.

Ginnie’s mind kept filling with terrible images: Holly staring up at her with dead eyes, Holly intubated, Holly’s bruised body sprawled out under a paramedic’s thrusting hands.

Holly is okay. Her mom said she’d let me know if anything changes. I’m going to see her in just a bit and she will be okay.

“Okay, okay, okay…” she muttered, her voice muffled underneath her mask.

“Ginnie?” A familiar woman’s voice interrupted her anxious train of thought. Ginnie looked up and spotted Holly’s mother, Gena. The older woman looked tired but happy, her gray-streaked hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and her generous lips drawn into a big, encouraging smile. A surgical mask dangled from her left ear. “Hey. Are you ready to come see our Holly?”

“Yes!” Ginnie blurted, quickly putting her earbud back in its case and dropping it into her bag. After a moment’s hesitation, she dropped the tangle inside as well. “Is she okay? Is she awake?”

“Yes, she’s awake. And she is doing much better.” Gena held her arms out to Ginnie. “May I have a hug?”

Ginnie nodded, her voice disappearing somewhere deep inside of her. She let Gena embrace her, her own arms sliding around the other woman’s back. Gena squeezed her tight.

“I know you said you didn’t do much, but my understanding is that when EMS arrived, you and the restaurant manager were p-performing…” There was a long pause, and when Gena continued, her voice was husky. “You were helping her. Every second was important. Thank you, Ginnie.”

Ginnie felt her face burn hot as she squeezed the other woman back. After a moment, Gena released her and leaned back to look her in the face.

“I’m not stressing you out too much, am I? Holly, bless her, was worried about stressing you out. I suppose I don’t blame her after what happened to both of you.” Gena pulled her mask back over her nose and mouth and gestured at Ginnie, apparently not noticing that Ginnie was looking everywhere but Gena’s eyes. “Come on, Holly will wonder what I’ve done with you.”

Ginnie followed Holly’s mother down the hall, her fingers worrying the strap of her crossbody bag. Eventually, they arrived at a room with Holly’s name written on the marker board next to her door.

“I’m going to go get some coffee,” Gena said. “Holly doesn’t have a roommate as of this morning, so the two of you will have a little privacy. Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?”

“No, but thank you,” Ginnie said, though her attention was already pulling her into Holly’s room. She didn’t hear Gena’s reply.

When she stepped inside, she spotted Holly instantly. Looking smaller than her true height, leaning back against pillows with her hair tied back. Her eyes were closed, full lips slightly parted. Ginnie hurried to the foot of Holly’s bed and then froze, her fingers tapping against the thumb of each hand. Holly opened her eyes and yawned.

“I’m sorry,” Ginnie blurted.

“What for?” Holly asked, yawning again.

“You’re tired. And they wouldn’t let anyone but your mom come see you in the ICU…” Ginnie felt her throat grow tight and her eyes water. “But I am really happy to see you, Holly.”

“You can take your mask off in here, Ginnie.” Holly rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up higher on the pillows, wincing. “If you want to.”

“Oh! Can I help you with something?” Ginnie asked, hurrying to Holly’s side. Then she snatched the mask off her face and crammed it in her bag.

“No, I’m okay. But thank you for asking.” Holly reached out for Ginnie’s hand, tugging her closer. “You look pretty. But tired.”

“I’m fine.” Ginnie wrapped both of her hands around Holly’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and tired,” Holly said. “But otherwise I’m really good. I have one more test and then I get out of here. It’s looking like I’m going to be fine. I guess sometimes people have to have an implanted defibrillator after something like this, but my heart is okay.”

She tipped her head at the monitor at her bedside, then gestured at the leads snaking their way out of her hospital gown. “All this stuff tickles.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Ginnie whispered. A tear trailed down her cheek. “I thought you were going to die.”

“Oh, hun, please don’t cry.” Holly squeezed her hand. “I’m okay. Thank you for helping me.”

“I didn’t know what to do! If the manager hadn’t stepped in… Holly?”

“Yeah?”

“When you feel better, will you teach me what to do? I took CPR in college but I didn’t really remember…”

Holly fell silent and her cheeks flushed pink. She reached up with her free hand and tried to ruffle her hair, only to remember that it was still tied back.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have asked!” Ginnie blurted. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“No!” Holly protested, letting out a nervous laugh. “I want to teach you. When I’m not so sore, and I’m out of here. We can… practice.”

“Thank you.” Ginnie sighed. “I don’t want to feel helpless like that again.”

“Hey,” Holly said. Her face was still pink, and she gave Ginnie a sly look. “I can think of something else we can do while I’m in here.”

“Yeah?” Ginnie asked.

“Kiss me,” Holly said, her voice husky and deep. “Please?”

“Before one of us dies?” Ginnie asked. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt the tiniest bit lightheaded.

“Sure,” Holly said, chuckling. “Whatever, I just want to kiss you. Please.”

Ginne released Holly’s hand and stepped closer to the bed. She knew her fingers were cold, but she touched Holly anyway, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, then tracing her jaw with her fingertips. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Holly’s.

Holly’s lips were soft and warm, and Ginnie felt her hands come up, cupping the back of Ginnie’s neck, threading lightly through her loose hair.

Instantly, Ginnie wanted nothing more than to climb into Holly’s hospital bed and stretch out alongside her. Their lips parted simultaneously, and the kiss deepened, tongues plunging and hands clutching. Holly took an audible breath through her nose, her chest heaving.

Ginnie broke the kiss, worried by the panting sounds coming from Holly.. She kissed around her soft mouth and murmured: “I’m sorry, I’m smothering you.”

“I’m okay!” Holly protested breathlessly. “I’m not dying, that was just really good! I think we’re on to something!”

“I promise we’ll do that again when you’re out of the hospital!” Ginnie kissed the tip of Holly’s nose.

“Can we do it again now?”

-- Ginnie and Holly return in Practice.

#resus writing #cpr resus #female resus #wlw love

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