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my-my-my · 5 months ago

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Hi! I love your stories!!

Can i request a fic with Aizen and female s/o being together the last night before Aizen betrays everyone? It can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you like

Ahhh thank you for your kind words!!

Your request got me thinking about when it should take place, because his betrayal is technically in parts! When Aizen fakes his death? Or when he reveals himself after stabbing Momo? Decisions, decisions… either way, it was a fun thought exercise.

I wanted to challenge myself, so I (personally) think this is a bit different than how I usually write.

Summary: Grief can be haunting, and without closure, the mind wanders. For you, the bereaved wife of Captain Aizen Sosuke, you are left with more questions than answers. Unable to talk or ask questions about what has been happening, you turn to poetry. Like your husband once said, you always had a way with words.

TW: MDNI! Smut, angst. Use of poetry (specifically waka and renga). Use of pet names. Oral sex, female receiving.

Word count: 1953

Grief weighed heavily on your heart these past few days. You stood outside the imposing, heavily guarded walls of the Gotei 13, wandering around the perimeter aimlessly.

It had only been a few days since a soldier came to your house to tell you the passing of your husband, Captain Aizen Sosuke.

Passing – no murdered.

But you were left with more questions than answers. The death of a captain should be shocking, news breaking even. Yet they were concerned about some kind of invasion. You weren’t given anything, no piece of him, to keep for yourself, as they were still investigating what had happen.

Your grief bubbled in you like a fountain since then. From a simple task of preparing yourself tea, to interacting with neighbours, tears would run freely.

You tightened the scarf around you, his scarf. His scent still lingered on it. It provided you with some comfort.

You continued your walk around the barrier, wondering what was happening on the inside. You didn’t even know who to reach out to about his body. His lieutenant, you were told, should have provided you with more details, but you haven’t heard from her at all.

The trees swayed slightly through the breeze, as the sun set over the horizon. You didn’t even realize the time; how long have you been wandering?

You were used to a quiet, empty home, but there was always the surprise of your husband visiting you for dinner, or him staying home for a few days. Now the silence was deafening.

His calligraphy desk was clean. You sat down, pulling drawers of old poems, some of which he composed, but majority were of yours, but it was still a fraction of what you had written. He had kept the rest in his personal room and office within the Squad 5 barracks. Your words gave him solace he once said.

You stared at the wall, wondering, thinking, grieving. When was the last time you spoke to someone? You exchanged pleasantries yesterday with your neighbours, but nothing more beyond that. There was so much to say, so much to ask, so much to cry about and you couldn’t.

You felt odd and out-of-place in this blurring world.

You pulled a clean sheet of paper and slowly began to pour liquid ink into your ink well. The white sheet of paper stared at you hauntingly as you thought of moments of catching Sosuke writing. You loved his calligraphy. You loved watching him practice. You loved the smile he had once he was satisfied with a piece…

You loved him.

Tears stained the sheet of paper, shaking you out of your nostalgic haze. Sighing to yourself, you dipped your pen into the ink well, satisfied with the amount of ink on it and began to write

The sound of rain on the leaves can be heard. Still more fragile is the dew of tears on my sleeves even in springtime. Waiting, the pine tree never withers in winter. If I could use words, Like scattering flowers and falling leaves, What a bonfire my poems would make.

“You always had a way with words.” A deep, baritone voice echoed behind you. You quickly turned around to see your husband, in his uniform, tousled hair and glasses in place.

“Sosuke!” You shrieked. Panic and dread crept up your body. Was this a dream? A haunting nightmare? But before you could say or do more, his large, warm hands cupped your face.

Your body tensed at the feeling, unsure to succumb to his familiar touch, or to resist and face your grief head on. You grabbed Sosuke’s wrists, shocking yourself at how sturdy his hands were. This was real.

“You must be confused, my love.” Sosuke whispered, his lips brushing over your forehead.

“They told me you were murdered!” You cried, succumbing to his embrace. He held you close as you sobbed into his chest. You gripped his haori tightly, knuckles turning white. Were you angry with him? Or still trying to decide if he was real? Taking a deep breath, you pulled yourself away, “Sosuke, what’s going on?”

He had a solemn expression, his eyes looked distant as he stared down on you. You knew him. The gentleness, humble persona he wore outside of the home was just for show. The cold, stern attitude is what you missed in your home.

But you also knew he tried to keep you away from his work in Seireitei. You heard from others what he was like, calm, generous, kind… words that amused you, but you took in stride. So to bait him into sharing, you did what you knew best, indulge him with a renga poem

“How forlorn a way to live – The mountains where I gather brush.”

You stared into his eyes, and saw a flash of mirth in them, but then his solemn expression remained. He cupped your face in his hands, brushing his lips against yours, but pulled away. He continued the end of poem

“‘Yet there may be hope,’” I thought, but this way of life Has come to an end.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” You asked, shoulder slumping.

“Yes.”

“Where are you going? Why can’t I come with you?!” You demanded. The flash of fury in your eyes amused Sosuke, but it wouldn’t sway him.

“For your safety, the less you know the better.”

“Then why are you even here!?” You shouted, “maybe it was better for me to think you were dead.”

A pang of hurt rang through Sosuke as your anger filled the space between you. As quick as you were with your words and poetry, anger was also something came just as fast. You took a step back from him, trying to collect yourself.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you.” Sosuke murmured, taking off his glasses. His eyes were sharp as he inspected you. “I wanted to see you one last time.”

“I really thought you were dead, you know?” You sighed, closing the gap between you two once again. You reached up to kiss him, as his arms instinctively wrapped themselves around your lower body.

Soft kisses bloomed into passionate ones, as Sosuke nipped his way down your neck, nimble fingers pulling and tugging away at your clothes. “Sosuke, we have a bedroom for this.” You laughed, as he carried you to your bedroom.

He laid you on the futon, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to sear your body into his memory. You reached out and cupped his cheek, “you can do more than look, Sosuke” you teased, spreading your legs apart for him.

Sosuke smirked at you as he slipped his haori off his body, then removed his uniform. You felt hunger in his touches, rough kisses, fervor in his movements as he suckled and played with your breasts and nipples. Your moans and pants encouraged him as kissed and nipped further along your body. Savouring the taste of your skin and the sounds of your cries as his name echoed off your lips.

He lifted his head up, just before he reached your dripping pussy.

“Ah, the misery of it, Whiter now shall I turn?”

But you were too consumed by pleasure to play with his words. Sosuke lapped at your clit while using his fingers to spread your pussy, pushing one finger inside your hole. Your hand found itself entangled in his hair as you tried to push him closer to your pussy. But you could only cry and whine his name as you felt two of his fingers curl inside you.

Your vision began to blur again, but this time of stars and colours as your orgasm crept closer. You felt Sosuke tongue swipe down your slit, and then a harsh suck on your clit when you screamed his name. He pulled himself away from you, smirking down at your quivering body. You were panting, covered in a slick of sweat, with your legs shaking.

Sosuke spread your legs further as he pushed himself inside you. You felt the familiar stretch of his cock as he sighed your name. There was no movement, only the sounds of kissing and your names echoing within the room.

But it wasn’t enough for you. “Please, Sosuke,” you whined, trying to move your body against him.

“Please what?” Sosuke teased, as he gripped your hips from moving.

“I want you to fuck me, Sosuke.” You whispered, tightening your pussy. Sosuke muttered your name under his breath as his eyebrows furrowed.

And Sosuke would always indulge you, no matter how much teasing he did. His pace picked up as his hips began to slam into your body. Wanton moans escaping your lips as he angled your legs above his shoulders. He was deep inside you, his cock hitting spots inside you that your fingers and no other man could ever touch.

Sosuke knew you too well. As he dropped your legs, he rubbed your clit as his mouth found your nipple. You shrieked and bucked your hips at the onslaught of pleasure rushing through your body. But Sosuke lifted his head, groaning your name into a kiss as you felt his warm cum fill you.

His shoulders were slumped as he pulled himself out. You whined at the loss, but never one to leave you out, Sosuke pushed his leaking cum back inside your pussy with his fingers, pumping you as his thumb ran circles against your overly sensitive clit. It didn’t take long for you to thrash against the futon, chanting his name as his kissed your forehead, murmuring how good you were to him.

You closed your eyes as he pulled you towards his body. What time was it? You mused, as Sosuke warm body enveloped yours. The sound of his heartbeat, his voice calling your name, and his fingers brushing your hair, began to put you to sleep.

Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to stay awake. You murmured into his chest,

“Parting after bliss, Resolved to was as long As life is left me.”

Before falling asleep. Sosuke looked down at you as he tucked you in. He gathered his scattered clothes, putting them on as he fixed his glasses and hair. His heart felt strange, almost heavy in his chest as he took one last look at you.

He picked up his black cloak, wearing it over his uniform, sealing his reiatsu from everyone, including you. The night sky was empty save for a stars – the moon hidden away. Sosuke maneuvered his way back to the walls of Sereitei, weaving through the throngs of Shinigami looking for the invading humans.

He unlocked the gates of Central 46 and descended the blood covered steps, the rotting bodies of its members still in their place as he traveled further down. Your words echoed through his mind, you always knew what to say to leave him speechless.

As he descended into the Great Hall, he looked up to the sight of the corpses again. He smiled, but not at the sight above him. His eyes softened thinking of your sleeping form,

“Still it lasts – what does it mean? This longing I feel for her.”

Thank you for sending in this request, I hope you enjoyed it!!

The first poem Reader writes is from Shogun Ep 8, recited by Lady Mariko.

The type of poem Reader and Aizen exchange in, is called renga, which is usually done between 2-3 people. The one I used in this request is from Three Poets of Minase which was written in 1488!! I think Aizen is the type of guy to participate in this kind of poetry (since he was a calligrapher, was well-read and had a popular column in the Seireitei Bulletin).

I had a couple of songs I was listening to set the mood/inspired me to write it this particular way:

HEALTH - GOD BOTHERER

Shit Robot feat. Nancy Whang - Take 'Em Up (Marcus Marr Remix)

Hidden Face - White Carousel

Jo Yeong-wook - 기도하는 금자

Thanks again for sending in this request and for reading!

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from-memphis-with-love · 2 months ago

Text

Just Because - an Elvis Presley oneshot

Synopsis: When she wrote Elvis Presley a letter so many years ago, she had no idea he'd become her destiny.

TW: None! This is a fluffy story about Elvis and his new bride on their wedding night. Enjoy <3

Las Vegas glittered outside the window of the Flamingo Hotel, a carnival of neon and promise. Inside suite 702, Elvis Presley turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, standing back to let his bride enter first.

"Well, Mrs. Presley." Elvis dropped the room key on the side table and loosened his black tie. "Think we gave ‘em enough of a show?"

Lizzie kicked off her white satin heels, wiggling her toes against the plush carpet. Her wedding dress - a simple, elegant sheath - whispered around her ankles as she moved.

"If I had to smile for one more camera, my face might have cracked." She massaged her cheeks. "Pretty sure my jaw is permanently damaged."

"You looked beautiful the whole time," Elvis said. "Even when Senator Wilkins talked our ears off about his hunting dogs."

"I counted," Lizzie said, laughing. "Seventeen minutes about beagles. I timed it on your watch."

"Atta girl. Always paying attention to the details." Elvis shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and slung it over a chair.

The suite was extravagant even by Vegas standards - a sprawling living room with a crystal chandelier, plush white couches, and a panoramic view of the Strip. Flowers covered nearly every surface, congratulatory bouquets from friends, fans, and industry people. A table by the window held a pyramid of champagne bottles and gift boxes wrapped in silver and white.

"Did ya see who sent this?" Elvis called, holding up a bottle of champagne from the collection and wiggling his eyebrows.

Lizzie unzipped her small suitcase on the king-sized bed. "If it's the one with the red ribbon, that's from Frank."

"Sinatra knows his champagne." Elvis studied the label. "Think we should save it?"

"For what?" Lizzie pulled out her nightclothes, neatly folded. "Another special occasion? Elvis, we just got married. I think this qualifies."

"Good point." He searched for glasses. "Although technically, we've been married for" - he checked his watch - "eight hours and twenty-two minutes. The special occasion ship might have sailed."

"Are you saying our wedding night isn't special?" Lizzie arched an eyebrow.

"I'm saying" - he popped the cork with practiced ease - "that every night with you is special, so we'd better start drinking now or we'll have a serious backlog of champagne."

Lizzie laughed, the sound warm and real in the artificial perfection of the suite. She turned back to her suitcase, unpacking with methodical precision. A sundress for tomorrow, toiletries, a dog-eared paperback.

As she lifted out a pale blue nightgown, something slipped from between the folds - a piece of faded pink stationery that fluttered to the carpet.

Elvis, crossing to hand her a glass of champagne, bent to pick it up.

"What's this?" He turned the worn paper over in his hand. His eyebrows lifted as he read the envelope. "Elizabeth Colasanti Presley." He whistled low. "Been practicing that name for a while, honey?"

Lizzie lunged across the bed. "Give me that!"

Elvis held it up, just out of reach. "September 1956," he read from the top corner. "Dear Elvis Presley." He looked at her with growing delight. "Is this what I think it is?"

"It's nothing." Her cheeks flushed pink. "Just something silly."

"Don’t look like nothing." He unfolded it carefully. "This paper's been folded and unfolded a hundred times."

"That's private." But there was no real fight in her voice.

"Not if it's addressed to me," Elvis countered, eyes twinkling. "Besides, what kind of secrets could my wife be keeping on our wedding night?"

He perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing the letter across his knee.

"'Dear Elvis Presley,'" he began, his voice in a singsong imitation of a young girl. "'I saw you on Ed Sullivan last Sunday. My daddy says you're corrupting the youth of America.'" Elvis glanced up. "Your daddy sure changed his tune."

"Keep reading." Lizzie hugged a pillow to her chest. "It gets worse."

"'I told him music that makes people feel something real can't be bad.'" Elvis paused. "That's pretty profound for a teenager."

"I had my moments."

"'When you sang "Don't Be Cruel," I felt like you were singing just to me-'"

"Oh God." Lizzie buried her face in the pillow. "Skip ahead."

He ignored her. "'My mama's been sick, and sometimes your songs are the only thing that makes the house feel normal. Like there's still good things in the world.'" His voice softened. "Lizzie..."

"I was sixteen," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "We found out mom had cancer that spring. It was a rough time."

Elvis continued reading: "'I know you'll never read this. But sometimes I imagine you're just a regular boy from Tennessee, not a star, and we might run into each other at a soda shop. You'd smile at me, and I'd finally work up the courage to tell you how your music makes even the bad days better.'"

His eyes moved down the page. "'I'm going to be somebody too someday. I'm saving up for design school. Maybe one day I'll make costumes for your movies, and you'll never know that the girl fixing your collar once wrote you this letter.'"

Elvis looked up at her, his expression soft with wonder. "'Yours truly, Elizabeth Colasanti.'"

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Elvis carefully refolded the letter.

"How long have you been carrying this around?" he asked.

"Since I wrote it." Lizzie lowered the pillow, her embarrassment fading. "It's my good luck charm. I take it whenever I'm starting something new. First day of design school, first apartment, first job..." She shrugged. "First marriage."

"You never mailed it."

"Of course not. Famous people don't read fan mail from nobody girls in Maryville."

"I read my fan mail." Elvis looked wounded.

"You read some fan mail. You get thousands of letters a week, Elvis."

"Still." He tapped the letter against his palm. "Funny how things work out."

"Funny strange or funny ha-ha?"

"Both." He nodded toward her suitcase. "You keeping anything else I should know about? Lock of my hair? Chewed gum?"

"Very funny." She snatched the letter back. "You know very well I didn't even talk to you until Blue Hawaii. I wasn't some obsessed fan."

"Blue Hawaii." A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You never did give that handkerchief back. I kept waiting."

"You remembered that?" Lizzie looked genuinely surprised.

"’Course I did. It was my lucky one. Had Dodger embroider EP on it and everything."

She moved to her suitcase and carefully extracted a small fabric square from an inner pocket. "You mean this old thing?"

Elvis stared at the worn handkerchief. "You actually kept it? All this time?"

"It was my something blue today." She placed it in his palm. "I figured after the wedding I should finally return it."

His fingers closed around it. "Three years for a handkerchief to find its way home. That might be a record."

"I did try to return it the next day," Lizzie said. "But you were filming that beach scene-"

"-and you decided to keep it instead."

"I was going to mail it to you."

"Sure you were." He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. "Hold that thought."

Elvis went to his suitcase, digging beneath his clothes until he pulled out a wooden box about the size of a cigar box. A small crown was burned into the top.

"What's that?" Lizzie asked.

"Just a little collection." He sat beside her on the bed and opened the lid. Inside were dozens of folded notes, ticket stubs, and small scraps of paper.

Lizzie picked up a faded receipt. On the back was her handwriting: Coffee, black. Two sugars. I noticed. She looked at him. "You kept this? It was just a coffee order."

"It was the first time anyone had paid attention to how I take my coffee without being told." He shrugged, almost embarrassed. "The little things matter."

She sifted through more papers. "There must be fifty notes in here."

"Fifty-seven." He didn't hesitate. "Including the one you left on my dressing room mirror after our first fight."

"Our first fight wasn't a fight," Lizzie protested. "It was a minor disagreement about your inability to be on time for anything."

"Sure felt like a fight. You didn't talk to me for three days."

"Two and a half." She picked up another note. "'Elvis - Dinner at 7. Not 7:05, not 7:15, and definitely not 7:45. Some of us respect punctuality. - LC.'"

He grinned. "You were so mad."

"You showed up at 8:30."

"But I brought flowers."

"Dead flowers. You left them in the car with the windows up. In August."

Elvis laughed, the deep, genuine laugh that so rarely made it to television or film. "I did, didn't I? God, you're the only woman I know who would've thrown them straight in the trash."

"I have standards."

"You certainly do." He nudged her shoulder. "Lucky for me, punctuality wasn't a deal-breaker."

Lizzie's fingers found a movie ticket stub. "Our first real date."

"Was that a date? I thought you were just taking pity on the poor ole lonely movie star."

"You asked me to go. You paid for the tickets. You bought me popcorn. That's the textbook definition of a date, Presley."

"Huh." He took the ticket, studied it. "Guess I've been dating you longer than I thought."

Her expression softened. "Remember what you said after the movie?"

"I said a lot of things. I was nervous."

"You said, 'It's nice seeing a movie without being in it.'"

"I meant it. That night..." He hesitated. "That was the first time in years I felt like a regular guy."

Lizzie picked up another scrap of paper. "What's this one?"

He glanced at it. "List of baby names."

"Baby names?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Whose baby names?"

"Yours and mine, someday." He took the paper gently. "You fell asleep in my trailer last year, and you were talking in your sleep. You said we'd have a daughter with hair like mine and your mother's eyes."

"I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't. You were out cold. Lettie Ann and Celie Jane, those were the names you said."

"And you wrote them down?" Lizzie looked at him with soft surprise.

"Told you. The little things matter." He touched her cheek. "You matter."

In that moment, Lizzie saw not the Hollywood draw or the magnetic presence that dominated every room, but the boy from Tupelo, Mississippi who'd once been as ordinary as she was. She leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Who would've thought?" she whispered against his lips. "The fan and the star."

"I'm not the star tonight." He kissed her back. "Tonight I'm just the luckiest man in Vegas."

"Now who's being profound?"

"Must be your influence." His smile faded to something more serious. "You know what's crazy? If the Colonel hadn't insisted on those sequined costumes for the charity show, and if the regular costume designer hadn't quit in a huff, and if they hadn't hired your boss as a replacement..."

"...and if I hadn't been assigned to your dressing room..."

"...we never would have met." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Thank God for small miracles."

The mmemory rushed back, vivid as yesterday:

The Blue Hawaii set, 1961. Lizzie sat in a corner of the costume tent, struggling with a torn Hawaiian shirt. Her first week as a junior costume assistant, and she was already drowning in a sea of alterations.

"Need that in five, Colasanti!" Mr. Hanson barked as he passed by, arms laden with garments.

"Yessir," she mumbled, jabbing the needle through the fabric with more force than necessary.

She'd been working since five that morning. Her fingers were sore, her back ached, and the humidity was making her hair curl in ways that defied professional appearance. But she wasn't about to complain. Jobs like this didn't fall into the laps of girls from Maryville who were seven credits short of a design school degree.

"You're new here." The voice came from behind her, casual as a Tennessee breeze.

Lizzie nearly stabbed herself with the needle. Elvis Presley stood not three feet away, wearing street clothes instead of his costume, twisting a ring over and over on his finger.

"Yes." She managed the single syllable. "First week."

"Tough break, getting stuck with the repair pile." He nodded toward the mountain of clothing beside her. "Hanson's got a reputation."

"He's just particular." She defended her boss automatically.

"That's a nice way of putting it." Elvis smiled, and it was different from his album covers. Even better in person. "You from back home? I can hear Tennessee."

"Maryville," she admitted. "Nothing special."

"I've played Maryville. Good people."

"I know. I was there." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "At the Parkway Theater."

Something lit in his eyes. "No kidding?"

"You wouldn't remember." She bent her head back to her work, feeling foolish. "It was sold out."

"The Parkway's not that big." He leaned against the workbench. "Good acoustics, though."

"Need something, Mr. Presley?" Mr. Hanson emerged from the racks of costumes, his voice sharp.

"Just checking on my blue shirt for tomorrow." Elvis straightened. "The one with the palm trees."

"Being pressed as we speak. I'll have it delivered to your trailer within the hour."

"Thanks." But he made no move to leave. Instead, he watched as Lizzie fumbled with the needle, her hands suddenly clumsy under observation.

"Colasanti!" Hanson snapped. "That's the third time you've threaded that needle. Stop wasting time."

Lizzie's cheeks burned. The needle slipped again, and she pricked her finger. A bright bead of blood welled up, threatening to stain the pale fabric.

"My fault," Elvis said, stepping forward. "I was distracting her with questions."

Before anyone could react, he pulled a pale blue handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it to her finger.

"You'll want to use peroxide on that," he said to her, his voice quieter now. Then to Hanson: "Got any of those blue and green shirts for the backup dancers ready? I'd like to see one."

Hanson hurried off to find the requested items, leaving them momentarily alone.

"You didn't have to do that," Lizzie said.

"Do what?" Elvis winked. "Just looking out for the costume. Blood's hard to get out."

She tried to return the handkerchief, but he shook his head.

"Keep it for now. Might need it again in this place."

As he turned to go, she noticed the embroidered initials in the corner: EP.

"I'll return it," she called after him.

He glanced back, that half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'm counting on it."

But she never did.

"Earth to Lizzie." Elvis waved his hand in front of her face. "Where'd ya go?"

"Just thinking about that first day." She smoothed the handkerchief between her fingers. "You were kind to me when you didn't have to be."

"I'm always kind to pretty girls from Tennessee."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes. "That's why you have such a sterling reputation."

"My reputation is greatly exaggerated." He sniffed with mock offense. "Unlike my talents."

"Modest, too."

"Never claimed to be modest." He gathered the scattered notes from the bedspread, returning them to the box. "Just talented."

Lizzie watched him, this man who now belonged to her in a way the teenage girl who wrote that fan letter could never have imagined. Not just the most famous man on the planet, but the man who kept handwritten notes and remembered her coffee order. Who'd asked her father's permission to marry her with the same nervousness as any other suitor.

"Hey." Elvis grabbed a sheet of hotel stationery from the desk. "We should write a new one."

"A new what?"

"A letter." He found a pen in the desk drawer. "To mark the occasion. Your letter brought you to me. Maybe this one..." He shrugged, suddenly self-conscious.

"Maybe this one what?" Lizzie prompted.

"Maybe this one carries us forward." He sat beside her, their shoulders touching. "I'll start."

He wrote a few lines, then passed the paper to her. Lizzie read silently: To my wife on our wedding night. I used to think fame was the best thing that would ever happen to me. Then I met a girl from Maryville, Tennessee.

"Your turn," he said.

Lizzie took the pen, her handwriting a stark contrast to his bold scrawl. I used to think loving your music meant I knew you. Now I know that the real Elvis Presley talks in his sleep, can't match his socks to save his life, and makes me feel like the most important person in any room.

She passed it back. Elvis read her words and smiled. "I don't talk in my sleep."

"You absolutely do. Mostly about food."

"Lies and slander." But he was already writing again.

They passed the paper back and forth, adding lines, building something new together. Outside, the lights of Vegas continued their electric dance, but in suite 702, time seemed suspended.

I promise to cherish our quiet moments above all else - the ones where it's just us, with no cameras or crowds, Lizzie wrote.

I promise to always hear you, even when the noise of everything else gets too loud, Elvis added.

Lizzie finished the letter with a final line: I promise to keep every moment, good or difficult, like a note in a wooden box - safe, cherished, and ours alone.

She placed the pen down. "There. What do you think?"

Elvis read over their joint creation, his shoulder pressed against hers. "I think we write pretty well together, Mrs. Presley."

"It's strange, hearing that name." She turned to face him. "Good strange."

"I like how you say it." His voice dropped lower. "Like it's just another name, not something that comes with a whole lot of baggage."

"To me, it's just your name." She reached up to touch his face. "The name of the guy who saved my button-sewing career."

He laughed quietly. "Is that all I am to you? A career savior?"

"Among other things." The space between them had shrunk to almost nothing.

"What other things?" His eyes held hers, gentle but intent.

Instead of answering, she kissed him. This time, the kiss was honest, a little clumsy, and entirely theirs. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, tender as if she might break.

When they pulled apart, the air between them had changed. Three years of knowing each other, of careful waiting, of building something real beneath the spotlight's glare - it all converged in this moment.

The truth was, they'd come close before. In the darkness of his car after late-night drives, in stolen moments between filming scenes, even once in her small apartment when a thunderstorm had knocked out the power. They'd explored each other in countless ways over these years, his hands and lips teaching her body things she'd never known to want. But they'd always stopped short of this final intimacy - this sacred line that Lizzie had determined to save for marriage.

"Lizzie." His voice was rough at the edges. "We don't have to-"

"I know." She smiled, though there was a slight tremble to her lips. "I want to."

A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could catch it.

"Hey." Elvis brushed it away with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

Lizzie took a shaky breath. "I've never done this before."

"I know, honey."

"But you have." It came out smaller than she intended, almost a question.

Elvis hesitated, then nodded. "I have."

Her eyes dropped, and something like a pout formed at the corner of her mouth.

"No, no." He tilted her face back up. "That's not a bad thing, Lizzie. It just means..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It means I know how to make it good for you. I'll show you."

"You'll show me?" The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised. "We'll take it slow." His fingers traced the line of her jaw. "I want this to be something you remember for all the right reasons."

Lizzie nodded, leaning into his touch. "I trust you," she whispered, and the simple truth of those three words seemed to affect him deeply.

"I won't let you down." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Not in this. Not ever."

She moved closer, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. "Will it hurt?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted, honest even now. "But then it gets better. I promise."

"You'll tell me what to do?"

The hint of vulnerability in her question made his expression soften. "You don't need to do anything but be yourself. That's all I've ever wanted."

She nodded, drawing courage from his steadiness.

With the same deliberate care he'd shown that first day with the handkerchief, Elvis reached out and turned off the bedside lamp. In the semidarkness, the neon lights of Vegas filtered through the curtains, painting patterns across the ceiling.

"Come here," he whispered, and she did.

The first hint of dawn was breaking when Lizzie stirred awake. For a moment, she was disoriented. Then she felt the weight of her husband’s arm around her waist, heard the steady rhythm of his breathing, and remembered: She was Mrs. Elvis Presley now. The thought made her smile.

"What're you smiling about?" Elvis's voice was husky with sleep, his eyes still closed.

"How do you know I'm smiling if your eyes are shut?"

"I can feel it. You radiate when you smile. Like a little sun."

"That's the corniest thing you've ever said to me."

"Give me a break. It's not even eight AM." He opened one eye. "And I stand by it."

She shifted to face him, studying the familiar lines of his face, softened now by the dim light and intimacy. "Did you ever imagine this? Back when I was just the costume girl with the bleeding finger?"

"Not exactly this." His thumb traced the curve of her shoulder. "But I knew I liked you a lot.”

"I was terrified of you."

"No you weren't." He grinned. "You're not scared of anything."

"I hid in the supply closet three times that first week when I saw you coming."

"Yet here you are."

"Here we are," she agreed.

Elvis reached over to the nightstand where their letter lay beside the wooden box. "One more for the collection."

He folded the paper with careful precision and opened the box. As he placed the letter inside, something in his expression shifted, grew serious.

"You know it’s not gonna be easy, right? Being married to... all this." He gestured vaguely, encompassing not just himself but everything his name entailed.

"I didn't sign up for easy." She propped herself up on one elbow. "I signed up for you.”

"There will be lies in the papers. Rumors. People who want pieces of me that I can only give to you."

"I know."

"Tours, movies, time apart."

"I know that too."

"So why'd you say yes?" His voice held genuine curiosity. "You could've had a normal life with a normal guy. White picket fence, Sunday dinners, no flashbulbs in your face."

Lizzie considered this. "Remember that song you did? 'Just Because'?"

"Sure."

"That's why." She settled back against the pillows. "Just because."

Elvis whistled, a sound that conveyed both surprise and pleasure. "I've heard a lot of answers to that question in interviews. That might be my favorite."

"Good." She yawned. "Now go back to sleep. We've got brunch with the guys at eleven, and you're impossible when you're tired."

"Yes, ma'am." He settled beside her, his arm finding its place around her waist again.

Just before sleep reclaimed him, he murmured, "Lizzie?"

"Hmm?"

"I just remembered. You've got another letter to write."

"What's that?"

"Thank you note to Ed Sullivan. For getting us together."

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #fluffy fanfic

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wolfstardaughter-jj · 1 year ago

Text

DENSE

Summary: Yule Ball is right around the corner and you still haven't found a date. Or at least decided on asking someone as a date. But your heart is set on a certain redhead who just isn't taking a hint and is as dense as a rock.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Song: Must be Love by Laufey

Warning: fluff, anxiety rant (reader stressed with school)

Word count: 4.8k+

A/n: honestly I started this around February this year and forgot about it... yeah that bad. I wanted to get it out of my system since it's been there for a while. This was actually meant to be part of my serendipity book but i still havent written the other chapters but I really like this chapter. Either way I hope you lovelies will enjoy it, Happy holidays<3333

~~~~~~~

Everyone was ecstatic from the announcement of the Yule ball. It was the first ever dance they were to have at the school and everyone was already starting off their plans on what to wear and who to go with. With the Triwizard tournament at hand, you were glad there was something to take your mind off the stress.

Training and helping Harry through all of the practices were starting to wear you out.

At the moment, all of you were in the Great hall simply studying. You were nearly done with your assessment when from the corner of your eye, you spot Fred throwing a piece of paper towards his younger brother.

Ron raised his head up in annoyance, wondering why his brother would want to disturb him. He opened the ball of crumpled paper and read the words "you better get a move on or else there won't be any girl to ask to be your date." Or something like that, he only skimmed through it.

Ron gave Fred an annoyed stare, "Who are you going to the Yule ball with then?"

Fred crossed his arms and sent Ron a smirk, "Well, I still have to ask them. I’m thinking on doing it really soon,"

Your ears prick up at his words. He's planning on asking someone else to the ball? Of course he'd be going with someone but you had always hoped it would be you.

Your heart sank at the mere thought he was going to ask someone else to the Yule ball.

Ron looked surprised, he thought that Fred had already asked you but he was wrong. He looked towards you, seeing you leaned over your assessment, looking like you didn't care to pay mind to what he and Fred were talking about. But in truth, you did care, you cared a whole lot.

"How about you Y/n? Who are you going with? Lots of guys have been asking you lately, it shouldn't be too hard to choose one." Ron asked, not knowing that this was sparking a little jealousy in Fred.

You looked up from your paper and looked at Ron. You saw the worried glances Harry and Hermione were sending your way.

"I won't tell you cause it's a surprise." You whispered back with a wink before looking back down on your activity.

Fred tensed up at your words, it sounds like you already accepted to be someone’s date. He didn't want to pry on who it was in case he might get his heart even more broken, but of course, curiosity got the best of him.

"Really? Why am I only hearing of this now?" Fred asked.

"Well technically they haven't asked me yet so I'm going to ask them instead." You replied courtly.

Fred seemed perplexed. They haven't asked her to the ball yet? What an idiot. Oh god wait, is she planning on asking that Beauxbatons girl? No she wouldn't, she would have told me.

"...so who's the lucky girl- or guy?" Fred stumbled on his words as he leaned in. He really wanted to know who it was, even if it was at the expense of his own feelings.

You look at him with a grin, trying to mask the slight nervous breakdown you were having within. It was ironic that he was asking about this especially since it was him you were talking about.

"I'm not telling you who it is, Freddie. Like I said, it's a surprise." You state as you finish up your assessment.

"Oh come on, you don't need to tell me their name. Maybe give me some clues? Like which school they're going to-"

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing how stubborn he was going to be about this. "Well that would just narrow down your possible choices."

He started shaking your arm like a child asking their parents for a sweet in a sweet shop. "Come on, just tell me."

You shook your head and laughed at his dramatics. "Fred, you should finish up your activity."

"Hey, don't change the subject." Fred pointed out.

"You're not gonna do it till I tell you, huh?" You said with an unimpressed stare.

"Nope. Now can you at least tell me one thing?" He urged on.

You let out a sigh as you went deep in thought. Do you really want to help him in finding out who it is or leave him to his madness. You decided on the first choice. It wasn't like he was gonna figure out it's him.

"They're studying here at hogwarts."

"...Yeah, that totally narrows down the choices." Fred sighed. "Which house are they in?"

You chuckled, "like I'd tell you that. That would make it too obvious."

Hermione laughed from the other side. "Y/n, even if you say what house they're in, I don't think they'll be able to figure out who it is."

You thought about it for a second and realized she had a point. "Huh, you're right." You agreed with a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mea- you know what, I don't wanna know. What I do wanna know is, who this person is." Fred was adamant at finding out who the mystery person was, and it was starting to make you nervous that he might actually figure it out.

He sat up once he found an alternative solution to his predicament. "Oh, I know, I'll name a bunch of people, and you tell me if they're the person. Okay?"

"What if I lied and said no even if they were the person I was going to ask to the ball?" You smirked, which was only returned with an unimpressed glare.

Fred was about to say something but decided against it. "I'll just do it anyways… is it Diggery."

You shook your head a no.

"Draco?"

You cringed at the thought, no offense to Draco. Besides you knew he had his eyes in a certain Gryffindor. "Godric no, he's already planning on going with someone else."

Both Harry"s and Fred's eyes seemed to widened at the statement, Harry seemed even more surprised.

They both yelled out in unison, "He is?!”

Snape went in to scold the two for their outburst. Removing 5 house points from each of them. Causing the surrounding students to send their glares towards the two.

“Yes he is! Now hush the both of you!” You scolded as you continued with your work.

“Right, I shouldn't get distracted… How about that Freya girl?" He spoke her name in doubt, scared that he might be right.

You chuckled at the mention of her name, "No, she's going with her girlfriend."

Fred's heart settled at the realization, abit shocked by the new information but he was delighted to have that thought settled in his mind. That means you weren't going to act on your childhood crush. But then the thought entered his mind that it meant you were planning on going with someone else, someone he wasn't aware of.

"How about… Neville?"

"Already going with someone."

"Dean?"

"He plans on asking someone else."

"Zabini?"

"Nice guy but no."

"Nott?"

"He's going stagg."

"I don't know why I'm even asking this but, how about Lee?"

You immediately shook your head a no.

Lee perked up from his seat at the mention of his name. "Huh? I heard my name, what's going on."

George leaned over and told Lee about the situation.

"Ohhh, I see." Lee chuckled, "this is going to be fun." He whispered back.

"Godric...well uh, is it Louis?" Fred guessed. At this point he didn't know who else could be the possible match.

"No. He is a good option but no." You simpered on, wondering where this conversation was going to take you.

"I give up on doing this, just answer my questions." Fred continued. "Do you talk to them everyday?"

The question seemed vague enough for him to not know who so it didn't hurt to answer him. “Yes,”

Fred went deep in thought, why did he even choose this question? "Who would you be talking to that I wouldn't know about...

You all chuckled to hear his words, he may seemed to be really observant when it came to you but completely oblivious at the same time.

"Oh wow Fred, you take note of who y/n talks to everyday?" George teased, though Fred didn't really see it that way.

"So what? I'm with her almost all the time, I would know who she'd be talking to." Fred explained.

"You aren't with her all the time. What about during class hours?" Hermione stated.

Fred looked dumbfounded, he didn't think of that.

Harry leaned over to you, making sure no one else heard him other than you, "I wonder how long it's going to take for him to realize it's him."

"Give it 2-3 business days." You replied with a chuckle.

Fred turned back to you with another question in mind. "What does their name start with?"

You shook your head with a chuckle. "I'm not going to answer that."

"Ugh, fine. Are they taller than you?"

You laughed at his question, "Yes." By a lot.

"That question doesn't even help. Lots of people are taller than Y/n." Harry commented earning a smack on the head from you. You caught Fred laugh at his joke which you used to your advantage.

You gasped and feigned an insulted look, "Okay, ouch. I was just thinking about telling you who it was but I changed my mind." You scooted away, with a false pout.

Fred laughed, trying to pull you back to him by pulling you by the waist. "I'm only joking, love."

You replied with an eye roll, trying to conceal the grin that slowly crept onto your lips.

You began packing your things before facing Fred again, "Seeing as you're not doing the activity, I'm going to go and spend the rest of the period outside."

“Oh come on, tell me who it is.” Fred stated with a pout as he theld onto your hand to keep you from leaving.

“Like I said before, no.” You replied with a teasing grin before grabbing the rest of your things.

You stood up from your seat and handed in your paper to Snape. He seemed to have been listening in on your conversation. He seemed to find your conversation quite amusing.

"If that Weasley boy doesn't ask you soon, I think it's better you accept Diggery's offer." He suggested in his usual monotone voice but there was this spark of interest in his eyes on the topic which surprised you.

“Professor Snape!” You laughed, surprised by this side of your professor.

“I'm just saying,” He simply shrugged before walking off with your work.

~~~~~~

The following day was hectic, more so than usual.

Most of the classes were finishing up their lessons so that during the holiday break you'd all be free from the burdens of school work. But it didnt help when they just piled more school work over the other to cram everything in one go.

Things seemed worse for you since you had decided to take up more classes this year. Not just that, but you somehow tangled yourself into becoming a some sort of charm fixer for the younger years whenever they'd mess up a spell.

And because Harry got himself stuck with being a triwizard champion for Hogwarts. You had to help him with spells and charms just so he could survive the challenges. You wouldn't be able to to live with yourself if anything were to happen to him under your watch.

As the holiday's were approaching, the only decent things about your schedule was the dance classes in between subjects. You had already learned how to waltz when you were a girl. Your parents weren't ones to host glamorous balls but your grandparents were. You had fond memories of your dance classes during your summers spent abroad. Twirling endlessly in studios till your head wouldn't stop spinning.

McGonagall appeared at the front of the hall and cleared her throat to call the attention of the crowd. "find your partners everyone, we will begin shortly."

Everyone began scattering across the room searching for their partners. You had the tendency to switch partners every now and then since the boys kept asking if you could show them the steps to the dance. You didn't mind, even if it meant getting your toes stepped on every now and again.

As you looked across the room, you wondered who you would be dancing with this time. Your own question was answered when your hand was suddenly grabbed and you were twirled around to be flush against someone's chest.

"Freddie!" You laughed, the wind was nearly knocked out of you from the sudden turn.

"You don't mind having this dance with me, do you love?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

You shook your head with a grin, "No, I don't mind at all."

Your hands were intertwined as your other hand rested on his shoulder and his hand grasped your waist. There was no tense atmosphere compared to the other boys who always seem to stray away from their confident selves when around you. But not Fred, no. He was always his true self around you.

The music began playing and echoed through the hall. Light footsteps pattered across the floor as people tried to find their footing. Some seemed to struggle more than others but that wasn't the case for you and Fred.

The two of you danced across the floor in sync. The two of you paid little mind to everything around you as you both were lost in your own world. Like your heart harmonised with the beat of his heart and that was the only rhythm you guys needed to dance.

"You've improved since the last time we've danced." You teased as you continued your steps.

Fred rolled his eyes at the memory of his poor attempt at trying to dance the waltz with you during one of your grandparents balls. He didn't exactly want to be there in the first place let alone dance a waltz he's never learned. But he didn't want to leave you there alone either. You wanted to dance, so he danced with you.

"Careful, I might step on one of your toes again." He taunted as he went along with your teasing.

You shook your head with a laugh. You had hoped that he would be your date for the ball. When he accompanied you to your grandparents' ball, it was like something out of a fairy tale. Though he stepped on your toes once or twice, it was all worth it. Especially when around the end, the two of you were left alone out in the gardens to stargaze the rest of the night.

Maybe, just maybe he would ask you to the ball.

Fred knew from your silence, you were stuck in thought. "You're still not going to tell me who it is?"

Your eyes snapped back to him, "Who?"

"The one you're taking to the ball." He replied almost in a whisper. At this point he wondered if he should still be asking about who it is. Is he really going to subject himself to this hurt?

Your eyes softened at his question. "Freddie..." you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that the guy you most desperately want to go to the ball with was him. But you were too scared to do so. Godric forbid you had any bravery left in you to tell him your true feelings.

You could casually ask him to the ball. Make nothing of it. To go as friends. But something in your gut told you that if you went together, things would be different. Things were different.

You weren't just little kids anymore. You were both at that stage in your life where love and relationships were the main focus of everyone's lives. If you screw up things with Fred, you'd probably spiral into a mess.

"You don't have to tell me. Just make sure to save me a dance, alright?" You could feel the defeat sink into his voice. But before you could do anything about it you were pulled away by another person to continue the waltz.

You caught a glimpse of Fred and you could feel your heart start breaking. You wanted to tell Fred but was it really worth the cost?

~~~~~~

It had been two days since Fred had questioned you about the mystery guy and you thought he just dropped the topic and forgot, but you were wrong.

Truth was, it was all he could think about. He didn't even try to ask you to go with him to the ball that day because he was scared he was going to get shot down.

And if you were being honest, he was all you could think about too. Not just on the fact that he was so adamant at knowing who the mystery person was, but also because he too had someone on his mind on who to ask for the ball.

If there was already someone he planned on asking, why even bother asking him to be your date to the ball? You felt hopeless and most of all, stupid for ever thinking you had a chance at asking Fred to the ball.

These thoughts consumed you to the point you didn't even want to try to sleep anymore. You just laid there on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Eventually you got hungry and tired of your own thoughts.

You got up from your bed and slowly crept away from the girl's dormitory, being careful not to wake anyone up, especially Stark. Godric knows how grumpy that cat gets when he gets woken up. You didn't currently have the map with you since it was with Harry but you didn't mind. You've basically engraved the school's layout in your mind.

You eventually reached the portrait and got out. It wasn't totally pitch black but it would help to have a little light help guide your way.

As you walked through the empty hallways, you couldn't help but think about all the things that were troubling you these last few days. I guess lots of things have been bothering you lately. You didn't exactly know where to start.

The thought that Harry was constantly being placed out into the line of danger and you not being able to help him is killing you. You have always been there to protect him and help him out but with the stupid Triwizard tournament rules getting in your way, you can't do anything about it.

Your stroll eventually led up to the kitchens, quickly grabbing a few snacks and bidding daisy and the other elves goodbye before going around the castle again. You missed these peaceful silences.

In all honesty you were suffocating from all of the school work and activities brought by the Triwizard tournament. You may not have been part of them but your professors seemed to have the impression that you were capable of handling lots of extra school tasks.

Like helping lead the class in dance classes in preparation for the Yule ball since you had experience in ball dancing. Assisting in charms classes in the lower years in your free time. Being a sort of ambassador for the foreign students seeing as you can speak French and russian. As if already having to deal with your normal studies and Quidditch wasn't enough.

You liked that they thought of you as a responsible student but you were juggling so many things that you rarely had the time for anything fun anymore. While your friends were off pranking, you were stuck helping second years undo charms that went wrong. While Kayla, Pansy and Mione were doing their usual "book club" sessions, you were busy helping Harry figure out how to do certain spells.

Your mind was so wrapped up in all your worrying that you didn't even realize that your footsteps led you to Monty. You grinned at the sight of the tree.

"Hello old friend." You greeted as you sat at the root of the tree.

You snacked on your food as you contemplated in silence. Though the tight feeling was still present in your chest, it felt comforting to be in a place that made you feel safe.

You leaned your head back on the tree and looked up at the star covered sky. You missed star-gazing. With all of the chaos, you haven't been able to star-gaze in a while.

Like a gush of fresh air passing you, you knew a presence was nearby. One that you were all too well familiar with.

You turned your head to look at him with a light grin. There he stood in his plaid pajamas and initial sweater.

"How come you always manage to find me?" You asked, tilting your head with a chuckle.

"I should be the one asking why you're always wandering off, in the middle of the night no less." Fred replied as he sat down next to you.

You both sat there quietly; looking up at the stars, mostly lost in thought. That was until Fred decided to break the silence.

"Why are you up so late? I know you don't usually sleep early but even 3 am is a stretch for you.” Fred stated as he pointed at his watch. ”What's on your mind, Carrington?"

A concerned look fell on your face, you didn't realize that much time passed already. You let out a sigh, you knew you were going to end up exhausted the next day.

"Honestly?" You inquired.

Fred nodded at you with sincerity, he had all his attention focused on you.

You sighed and suddenly the words just poured out of you, "it's just… so much is happening and I don't know how to deal with it all. I have to assist the younger years in charms, quidditch training, normal classes, foreign students and- il se passe trop de choses et j'ai l'impression que je vais pleurer et crier mais-" (too much is happening and i feel like I'm going to cry and scream but-). You paused, forgetting that Fred didn't know a lick of French.

"Fuck sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You apologized as you sunk your face into your hands.

"No, no, it's okay. Just keep going. I'll listen, even though I don't understand a single word of french. I'll be here to listen." He replied as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him.

You nodded as you continued on in your rant, the words were all coming out like a broken dam. "It's just that so much is going on and pour l'amour de la merde, you'd think they'd give a 4th year a break. I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking down every minute but I won't let myself go because there's still so much meant to be done."

You haven't really told anyone about how stressed you've been feeling lately and it felt so great to actually tell someone. Fred nodded along as he listened to you. There was this look on his face, as though he hung on every word you said, regardless if it was in a foreign language.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry you've been doing all that work. They should be paying you at this point. Is there anything I can do to lessen the load?" Fred asked as he brushed and stroked your hair.

You sighed and closed your eyes, "unfortunately, no."

He tilted his head, as if not believing what you said. “Are you absolutely sure? Cause you know me, I can give Minnie and Alby a piece of my mind.”

“Thanks for the offer but I'm sure I can handle it." You leaned your head on his shoulder in defeat.

"I know you can, but it doesn't mean you have to." He replied, rubbing his hand over your arm.

All these years, he's been by your side through it all. Through all the Voldemort nonsense, through the injuries, through the nightmares, everything.

"Freddie." You whispered.

"Yeah, love?" He replied.

"Thank you."

He faced you with this puzzled look, "For what?"

You gave him a simple shrug, thinking the answer was already obvious. "For just being there for me."

Fred's features softener and pulled you in closer to his side. "Anything for you, darling. You know that."

“I do…I hope you know the same applies to you.” You replied as you looked up at him.

“I do.” He nodded as he looked up at the stars. They were incredibly bright tonight, he wondered if you always wandered out here just to look at the stars to clear your head. That would explain why he would always find you here.

“When was the last time we went stargazing together?”

You grinned at the memory, “last summer when we went camping on the reserve.”

“We should do it again.” He replied, his eyes still glued to the stars.

You look at him with a cheek aching smile, “yeah, we should.” He may have meant the stars in the sky, but to you, it meant the freckles that were scattered across his cheeks like constellations. Those were the stars you were willing to spend endless nights studying.

“Can we just look at the stars while they're still out?” He laced his fingers between yours, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Okay.” You replied, snuggling yourself closer to Fred to get comfy as you looked up at the sky.

And that's what you both did till dawn came. The sky twisting in colors of peach and purple as the sun slowly rose over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a quiet morning, and for once your mind was quiet too.

Maybe it had something to do with the boy whose shoulder you were resting your head on or the peaceful ambience the morning brought you. You didn't really care, you were happy and that was it.

You couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of confidence flow through you. It could have been your mind lacking sleep but everything that was holding you back from telling Fred about your feelings just flew out the window.

You wanted to tell him, and you wanted to tell him now.

You sat up and turned to Fred in a rushed motion. Your movements startled the boy but he was left waiting for whatever you were about to do.

“What's wrong, love?” He asked you, surprisingly not as sleepy as you expected him to be.

“Remember what I said about that person I was going to ask to the Yule ball?” You hesitated with your words. You weren't even sure if you were thinking straight. You prayed that whatever words formed in your head would be the right words to say to Fred.

Fred tensed at your words. He nodded slightly, hoping that the next words that would leave your mouth wouldn't hurt too much.

“Well…” You felt your throat go dry but you were already in too deep, you had to commit. “To tell you the truth, they're really really really dense. And honestly I don't even know why they would even want to go with me if the opportunity presented itself but-.”

Fred's forehead creased at your words, who wouldn't want to go with you to the ball? That would be like turning down the chance to enter heaven. “Why'd you think that, love? Anyone lucky enough to even be in your sights should be thanking God or whatever force for putting you on this earth.”

You felt your cheeks go bright red and your heart beat ten times faster. You weren't even sure if you could have controlled it with Fred's words just pouring out of his mouth like they just came to him naturally. He didn't even stop there. Once he started he couldn't stop.

“I mean look at you, I don't think I can think of anyone else in the whole entire world that could even come close to how perfect you are. I mean sure, you're basically a night owl with how little you sleep because you'd rather read than have a decent amount of sleep,”

You laughed at his little comment, shoving him slightly in the shoulder, but that didn't stop him from continuing his rant.

“You literally land in the hospital wing every week or so because you'd rather put yourself in harm's way than others. And you don’t even like sharing your cookies but you still do. You even ask your grandmother to send more cookies just so you can share more of them. All these things I just listed down are just more reasons why you’re perfect- and why I love you.” He let those words slip past his lips so quickly he barely even registered them. By the time he realized what he said he knew he couldn't take them back, nor did he want to.

“And yes, I love you… and not just in a friend way but the “I love you so much that if you're not around I can't breathe and the mere thought that you probably like someone else is killing me”... way.”

You were left speechless. You felt like a complete idiot at that moment. You both were fools from the start. How couldn't you have seen the signs?

He was the only one there for you when no one else was. That time you landed in the hospital wing after a full moon incident from helping your uncle moony, he was the one who stayed by your side all those nights.

When you got a cold after a snowball fight with the Weasley’s over the holidays, Fred visited you nearly everyday at the Manor to check on you before he too caught a cold. Then it was your turn to take care of him.

When you got detention from getting caught for a prank you pulled, Fred got himself detention so you wouldn't be alone.

Fred felt his chest tighten at the silence, you haven't said a thing in the last few seconds and it was terrifying. “I know you probably don't feel the same-”

Finally, you snapped out of your self inflicted scolding and reached over with one hand to keep you up and the other on Fred cheek. “My god you are dense.” with that, your lips crashed into his and suddenly everything fell into place.

All the years of pining. All the endless hours of you avoiding and hiding your feelings when all along, the both of you were just too scared of saying how you felt.

His hand slipped over to your cheek while his other hand gripped your waist. He couldn't even process his thoughts about what was happening. Was this actually real? Was this a dream? Was he even awake?

His thoughts were silenced when you pulled away just slightly to let out a small whisper, something that was meant for him and him alone, “I love you too.”

A grin grew on Fred's lips, going up ear to ear. It felt like hearing your favorite song for the first time. You loved him. He couldn't believe it. Fred pulled you in for another kiss but it was difficult from how he just couldn't stop smiling.

“Really?” He asked, his voice heavy with bliss and giddiness. It was like the whole world just lit up for him. He really couldn't believe it.

You let out a light laugh at the sight, “Yes, really.” Before placing a peck on his lips.

“Are you absolutely sure?” He asked again, this time with a smirk and his usual tone of arrogance. Sure he still couldn't fully wrap his head around the thought that you, the girl of his dreams, actually loved him back. But that still didn't stop him from teasing the living daylights out of you.

You pondered on the question further, knowing how Fred loved to play this game. Your silence only furthered the fun when Fred began to grow impatient. “On second thought…”

Fred let out a chuckle before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up to his lap, “Nice try love. You've already said the words. You can't take them back.”

You rolled your eyes jokingly before facing him with a cheek aching grin, “oh no, what shall I ever do?” You replied with feigned fear before letting out another laugh.

Fred leaned over to your cheek, his nose barely grazing over the surface of your cheek. “How about I take you to the ball as…your boyfriend?”

You pulled away with a grin, "Are you sure?”

Fred looked off into the distance and tapped his finger over his chin, “Hmmm, you know on second thought-”

You let out a laugh before resting your hands at the back of his neck, “Nuh uh, you already said the words, Freddie. You can't take them back.” You repeated his words back to him with a smirk.

He pulled you in for another kiss to wipe away that smirk. But he then pulled away, just slightly, “You have my heart, love. I don't think I'll be able to take that back either.”

Feeling the blush rush up to your cheeks, you could only hide your flustered state in the crook of his neck. Now it was his turn to smirk.

“Don't get shy on me now, love.” Fred spoke as he hugged you tight. He thought that this was just too good to be true. He thought that maybe if he didn't hold on tight enough, all of this would cease to exist and reveal itself to be a dream.

You lifted your head out of the crook of his neck, only to feel the heat rush back to your cheeks. Seeing as the sun was rising up already, the blush was much more evident on your cheeks.

Fred looked at you with a soft smile, it was finally sinking in. He was finally yours, and you were finally his. And though the two of you may be dense, Godric knows Fred is never going to let you forget he loves you.

"I love you so much."

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dmercer91 · 2 years ago

Note

since mr.john marino went to harvard

all i can think of is him being with another harvard graduate, who put her degree into some complications field

and he brings her around the rink to meet the guys and they’re like

“hot and smart😮”

developing this into mr john marino claiming that he’s bringing a friend around because she doesn’t want people to pry into her life and she is very very private and so cue every non taken devil frothing at the mouth

and suddenly your close friend johnny is grabbing your ass kissing you right where everyone is watching

and never in your entire life had you been at a loss for words but now you’re just like.. oh my

sounds complicated, jm6

john had never needed to worry about other guys- he knew that. you’d never indulge and you were usually too much of a homebody to be subjected to flirting regardless

so he didn’t really see a problem with you asking to be introduced to the team as his close friend. you didn’t like for people to know about personal things immediately upon meeting.

you didn’t like the opportunity it gave for meddling, and not to say you didn’t trust johnnys friends- but hockey boys were never really the greatest at minding themselves or avoiding conflict

you’d worn sweatpants and a tank top- putting little to no effort into your looks knowing that you and john were meant to be getting bunch after practice

your hair wasn’t straightened, you were wearing your glasses rather than your contacts, and in your personal opinion, you looked a mess

you usually looked pretty professional- being a law student and nearing the beginning of your career meaning you needed to look proper. your current look was not that.

you walked into the arena with a glum look, trailing behind john who was occasionally stopped to greet some staff.

you made it to the dressing room where most of the guys had just been taping new sticks, some missing and some sharpening their skates in a different room you could see from where you were standing.

“s’ this your friend you were talking about, johnny?” a boy with fluffy hair came over from behind, smiling down at you and showing off his missing tooth

“yeah. ba- y/n, this is dawson. he’s.. usually normal,” you gave your boyfriend a look at his close call, turning to dawson and waving, a small smile on your lips

he returned the favour and then furrowed his eyebrows at whatever was behind you, so both you and john turned

“by usually he means never. dawson is never normal,” three guys emerged from the dressing room, the shortest of them the one who’d spoken out

john nodded sideways as a confirmation of his statement, then looked down at you.

“this is jack, his little brother luke, and that’s nico,” he pointed at each player as he stated their names, and nico smiled softly, eyeing you once

jack took the liberty of openly eye fucking you- and luke was clearly trying to be subtle, or at least more subtle than his captain and his brother, but his cheeks were flushed and he only put his hand up shyly as a greeting

“johnny said you were in law?” nico asked, his accent taking you by surprise a little

“yeah, we actually met at harvard. took an elective together and he was unsalvageable in the subject, so he asked me for help,” you shrugged

it wasn’t technically a lie- you’d only let out the minor detail that he’d initially went up to you to ask you out and you told him you’d only agree if he got a b or higher on the next paper

and then the part where he asked for help writing the paper and got to see you strip another piece of clothing after each body paragraph he’d written

“is law really difficult?” dawson asked, sounding genuinely intrigued with his head tilted in curiosity and his eyes happy

he clearly hadn’t noticed that the rest of the group was not actually intending to talk about law- but you were glad for it.

before you could answer, jack beat you to it.

“it sounds complicated. maybe you could use a little distraction, sometime?” he smirked and you raised an eyebrow. he was a lot bolder than you’d been anticipating.

you looked at johnny who’s tongue was poking his cheek, his eyes laser focused on the ground. you assumed he was trying not to implode, and you were kinda stuck on what to do

“your friends are bold, johnny,” you stated, turning to look at dawson who’s eyes were a little wide

“you’re telling me,” john grumbled, nodding towards the stands “take a seat, if you want. gotta start getting dressed,” you nodded and wandered off, waving to the five of them and trying to make your exit as quickly is possible.

after the practice was over, you’d made your way back over to the dressing room and waited for johnny to walk out.

nico had made his way out first, eyeing you before making his way over.

“you’re dating, aren’t you?” you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to feign innocence

“what do you mean? johnny?” nico grinned, the speed at which you were talking calling you out on your lie

“sorry about jack, he’s.. well, he’s definitely jack,” you giggled, nodding in agreement and looking over at the door as john came out

his eyes went back and forth between you and his captain, and he eventually came towards you and stood as close as humanly possible

“hi, baby,” you murmured, keeping quiet so only nico would hear and leaning your head onto johns shoulder

he gave you and alarmed look and you shook your head. “your captain is very perceptive,” you stated, and john smiled a little.

“cant say the same for his alt,” he mumbled under his breath and you glared at him playfully. he couldn’t really hold it against jack when nobody had known you were his

jack came off strong, but he had no ill intentions.

and, speak of the devil- he’d come out and beelined right for the little trio you’d been standing in.

before he could get over- john looked down at you.

“y/n. do you love me?” you furrowed your eyebrows, nodding

“yeah? wha-“ you were cut off by his lips on yours, one hand grabbing your waist and the other gripping your ass, your body pressed close to his

you let him- his kisses getting deeper and deeper until he tried to poke his tongue into your mouth and you pulled away, his hands staying put

“mh. jesus, johnny,” you blushed, wiping your lips that were red and starting to get swollen

you didn’t really know what else to say- flustered and a little too affected by his possessiveness for your liking

“uh. sorry, man. and sorry, y/n, for-” jack gestured vaguely, chuckling breathily, eyes a little wide at the display he’d just witnessed

“it’s fine. you didn’t know,” you reassured.

“what she said. don’t let it happen again,” johnny warned, grip falling from your ass but sprawling across your lower back, keeping you close to him

#e’s 500 celly!#e’s blurbs!#john marino #john marino x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

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obviouslacking · 10 months ago

Text

this is wholly embarrassing but i watched h-e double hockey sticks (1999) for the first time last night and, in the midst of my jeric brainrot, it made my mind go ❣️

so i wrote a teensy, terrible ficlet. i gave it a saccharine little title. griffelkin/dave, because of course it is. what are niche fandoms for if not to practice writing bad fanfiction? anyway. this goes out to the folks on jeric twt

edit: she’s on ao3 now! someone please join me over there so hedhs can become an actual categorised fandom

the sign on your heart (it's still reserved for me)

aka when hell freezes over

*******************

It was the greatest night of Dave Heinrich’s life.

He’d just won the Stanley Cup; the girl of his dreams was on his arm and he was enjoying his hard-won victory. Only… something was wrong. Through the lights, and the confetti, and the cheers, he watched as Griffelkin melted away into the crowd. Like he was never there. Like he’d never be seen again — by Dave, anyway. The triumphant grin slipped off his lips. It was cold, suddenly, out there on the ice, in a way the exertion had masked before. Everything he’d just accomplished began to feel… hollow. The only reason he’d managed to achieve anything was because of Griffelkin, chaotic and ridiculous though he was. Because, for some godforsaken reason… he’d believed in Dave.

He’d made him a better person.

What he’d had with Anne had been good. It felt like they had grown up in the rink together. But they’d been chasing after a dead-and-buried version of the past for too long now, blindly gripping to nostalgia instead of moving forward with their lives. It was now clear to him: it was time to set them both free.

He turned to her with regret, “I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

She didn’t understand, “Dave, wait—”

He couldn’t. He had to get out of there or else he’d lose his chance entirely. He knew how it looked: Dave Heinrich, the golden boy, leaving the Stanley Cup celebrations — the moment he’d worked towards all his life, the pinnacle of his rising star. He didn’t care. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, but… none of it would feel right until he saw Griffelkin again. Until they got to be proud of what they’d done together. The two of them, their own team.

He had to get him back.

It took hours. He drew pentagrams in chalk on his nicely laminated flooring. He lit candles. He tried ominous chanting, tried reciting an exorcism he thought he saw in a movie once, tried everything he could think of to summon Griffelkin back to him — short of screaming at the sky in despair.

Nothing worked. He was forced to sit himself down by the absolute mess he’d made with a sigh, body still aching from the torture it had endured that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Griffelkin had held onto him as he lifted him up onto the sickbay bed. Or the sight of him in his Angels uniform; wearing Dave’s number, Dave’s name. He’d been chasing after the Cup for so long, treading water with his girlfriend for so long… he’d forgotten what that felt like. To have a fire inside you, one that burned for a person.

If Griffelkin technically counted as a person, anyways. Dave was still a little.. fuzzy on the details. If he thought about it too much, he was sure he’d lose his mind (even more so than he likely already had. Maybe he’d just taken a really hard check out on the ice one day, and this was all some kind of fever dream—)

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesus Christ!!! Dave had sprung up and away from the sudden intruder in terror before he could even realise it was the intended object of his summonings. Here, at last. Hours after Dave had wanted him. The creature lived to spite him.

Even so, just seeing his face again… Dave needed to say his piece. “I had to talk to you. It wasn’t right, how you just… left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

Griffelkin was uncharacteristically muted, like all the flair had been drained out of him. “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

*******************

Griffelkin was lost.

He’d come to Earth to be wicked. To do bad deeds. To steal the ever-ripe soul of one Dave Heinrich. He’d never anticipated… everything that had happened after that. Becoming invested in the lives of actual, honest-to-God people, turning against the will of Beelzebub and everything he’d trained for to show compassion… it was entirely out of left field. Or left.. rink… (curse his sudden investment in that stupid game. It was just unnatural).

He’d never anticipated the way something about Dave was just… different. When Griffelkin was with him… he’d never felt like that before. It itched throughout his whole body; like that awful diner food, or the smell of the trees as they polluted his insides. Something horrible like… sunshine, or flowers, or the way Dave would smile breathlessly after he won a game—

Oh, hell.

Griffelkin had done it. He’d gone and fallen in — he took a moment to tamp down the nausea — love with him. The human. His former mark. What on Earth was he going to do?

Quite literally. He definitely didn’t think Hell would take him back any time soon, and the folks upstairs… well he didn’t know WHAT was going on with them. Gabby was their earthly agent?? She made him look positively angelic by comparison — and that was saying something.

So here he was: stuck topside, having horrendously squishy feelings for someone who would never like him back. Why would he? He’d got the Stanley Cup, got the girl… he didn’t need Griffelkin anymore. Dave’s soul may have been bound to him once, but they’d essentially ripped up everything that had tied them together. Their deal was done.

If only he’d known sooner… he’d never have got those two back together!! If he'd ensured they'd remained separated, he could have done his buddy Lewis a solid — he wouldn't have had to deal with Dave's impressive ego anymore!! Meanwhile, Griff could have swooped in at just the right moment, offering his soulmate both the shining Cup and his blackened heart on a brimstone platter……

But it was too late. They were all finally happy, at peace; everyone’s souls intact. Hurray! Griffelkin had no choice but to just fade into the background. Leave Dave be. He’d already interfered with his life enough.

Or so he’d thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was currently standing in Dave’s living room. He’d just felt drawn to the place, something that had never happened before. At least, not without some kind of demonic intervention. Somehow, he didn’t think that was at work here, despite the look of Dave’s once-glossy pad. The space seemed to be covered in… satanic paraphernalia of some kind.

Aw, he was almost touched. Mildly offended by the amateur job (WHO taught him how to draw a pentagram? And scented candles, really?? Was that glitter over there—) but… touched, nonetheless.

Dave was sitting on the floor, hunched over, still in his jersey from the game. He looked miserable.

Griffelkin felt that increasingly familiar tremble in his chest. He took it out back and shot it dead. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dave jumped out of his skin at the words. He was so cute when he was being existentially horrified by the forces of Griffelkin’s dark magic. Damn him. He’d failed already (typical, typical, Griff, can’t do anything right). He had to stop thinking of Dave like that, not when he wanted nothing—

“I had to talk to you….. it wasn’t right, how you just…. left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

He… wanted Griff?

That couldn’t be right. No matter how much it pained him, all he could think to do was be honest: “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

Dave seemed distraught, hearing this. Griffelkin had never seen him like that before. He didn’t know what to make of it. He looked… agitated, but not like he was when his hockey career was on the line; sad, but not in the same way as he’d mooned over… whatever her name was.

He admitted, “I thought that was what I wanted. But then… you weren’t there.”

No one had ever… cared about Griffelkin before. Was this how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes bigger? Griff might as well just sprout wings and take up harp-playing, at the notion. He’d never felt so blessed,

“Aw, Dave, buddy, you missed me? It was my sick moves out on the ice wasn’t it? You just had to come crawling back—”

Dave kissed him.

*******************

Dave couldn’t listen to that yapping for one more second.

So, he grabbed Griffelkin by the stupid clothes he was still wearing and kissed his stupid evil mouth. It took only a second before he melted into it like he’d been feeling the exact same feverish longing as Dave, silenced by—

Oh, he’d finally shut him up. He should have thought of doing that sooner.

It felt like a long time coming. It felt like no time at all.

Slowly, he released Griffelkin from his desperate grasp. It took the demon several seconds to blink his eyes open, staring back at him in awe. Well, Dave would feel just terrible if he’d broken him somehow. (Though maybe it would serve him right, just a little bit.)

Satisfied, he leant back.

“You gonna stay now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, right? Hell, or the Underworld, or wherever it is you’re from?” He hoped he never found out all the gory details. He suspected he was going to.

Griffelkin was still stunned. His hands twitched where they stayed clinging to the back of Dave’s jersey. “No, I… I think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but I just won the Stanley Cup.” He smiled at the thought… what an insane life he was leading. Dave Heinrich: youngest player to ever earn that mythic trophy; currently falling headfirst, circle-after-circle, in love with Hell’s finest.

Griffelkin smiled back at him, a little goofy, joy glimmering in his eyes, “Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh. And I could use some help figuring out where I’m gonna go from here.”

“Right, well…” Griffelkin swallowed. “I might just know a certain devil who’s going through kind of a similar situation right now. He might just take you up on that offer.”

It felt like the proper conclusion to their little adventure: both balancing on the precipice of a new journey. One Dave wanted them to tackle together — no matter how many ridiculous escapades came about as a result. They were just better as a pair. He knew they’d make it work somehow. If there was one thing he’d learned from all this (besides the whole being a selfless team player thing) it was that he could use a little more chaos in his life.

He pretended to mull Griff’s response over. “No contracts required?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I might have forgotten a sub-clause back there—”

Dave kissed him again. Man, that really did work miracles. It was about time he evened the scales a bit, in terms of which one of them was holding power over the other. He had to be careful or it just might go to his head.

They were still standing in the midst of Dave’s embarrassingly terrible pentagram. Luckily, the candles had all been long-extinguished by the time their lips had met, or they would have been facing a serious fire-safety hazard right about then. Dave had come too far to have his life cut short in that blissful moment.

His arms wrapped around the neck of his tormentor, who bound their bodies together with his own embrace in turn.

At least they wouldn’t be able to sue him for breach of contract: Dave Heinrich’s soul belonged to the demon Griffelkin after all.

Along with his heart, and mind, and body, and whatever else he decided he wanted along the way. Dave wasn’t fussed in the slightest.

Hell began to thaw.

#don't even ask (i have too much free time)#what do i even tag here #jeric #in a way #h e double hockey sticks #boy meets world #but not really #ten likes and i become the sole author in the currently-non-existent HEDHS ao3 tag #mine

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ivegotyourbackbuddie · 23 days ago

Text

The Wrong Buckley. Part Five of Six. Ao3 Link. Part One. Two. Three. Four.

(Disclaimer for this chapter: the formatting for this one is going to be HORRIBLE on tumblr. On Ao3, I'm able to format the texts on the right and left side but on here... I'm going to have to go through and put "(M)" for Maddie before her texts, same for Eddie (E), Buck (B), and Chimney (C) in case the space I use doesn't work on desktop and mobile. Ugh, I wish I had thought about this before. But really, I would highly recommend using ao3 for this part. Thank you all for your support here though. it means the world to me <3)

There’s only one unread text from Maddie.

(M) i hope you got home safely ❤ ️

It’s innocent enough but… Buck scrolls.

He scrolls until he gets to Maddie’s birthday and finds what he’s looking for.

(E) He thinks we’re having an affair.

(M) eddie!!!

(M) this is why you have to tell him!!!

They are having an affair. Eddie lied to him.

(E) I can’t, Maddie. It’ll ruin everything.

(M) he’ll understand. trust me

(M) i practically raised him

(E) So, that’s what’s wrong with him.

(M) 🙄

So, they’re talking about him as well. That’s why they got so flustered when he brought it up.

He can’t believe Maddie thinks he would understand this.

He scrolls through messages confirming brunch plans and pictures of Jee that Maddie had sent to Buck as well. It all feels like a knife in the back.

His eyes land on a message that makes his stomach turn.

(E) I think he’s onto me.

(M) well, you’re not exactly subtle

(M) especially with those big cow eyes 👁 ️👁️

(M) everyone can see the yearning a million miles away

(M) everyone except my baby brother apparently

(M) and chimney thank god

(E) …Cow eyes?

So, Maddie does know. Eddie must have confessed his feelings sometime before her birthday. But when?

He scrolls in frustration, trying to piece together the rest of the pieces when he finds something else.

(E) Fuck. Chris told us to share the bed

(M) LMAO 🤣🤣🤣

(E) This isn’t funny, Maddie. I can’t do this.

(M) …it’s a little funny

(M) but you CAN do this

(M) unless you have something against snoring

(E) It’s not the snoring.

(M) trust me. i know.

(E) Oh god. I did something stupid.

(M) FINALLY????

(E) I gave him a massage.

(E) And now I’m stuck in the bathroom.

(E) This is torture.

(E) Do you think he’d notice if I took a cold shower?

(M) 🤢

(M) remember i’m also technically a buckley

(E) Sorry.

(E) Wait. Would I have to be a Buckley-Diaz?

(E) And share a last name with Margaret Buckley??

(M) join the curse eds

(M) it will be worth it 😉

I can’t believe I’m in love with a Buckley replays in Buck, a constant haunting echo. This must've been the moment that sparked the confession.

God, they were already flirting back then?

And this whole time, Buck thought Eddie enjoyed sharing a bed with him. But apparently, it’s been torture, just like the damn massage.

No wonder he fled the room so fast.

Despite the very big possibility that he’ll actually be sick, Buck keeps scrolling.

(M) you should tell him

(E) I have to tell Chris first.

(E) Which means telling my family.

(E) Which isn’t an option.

(M) one step at a time

(M) chris will understand

Buck’s eyes bug out at the message. At this point, Eddie was still in Texas. How in the world did Maddie think Chris would understand their affair after everything with Kim?

(E) I don’t know. He’s probably going to be confused.

(E) And I’m not sure if I’m ready to explain the whole Shannon thing.

(M) no one is pressuring you if you’re not ready

(E) Says the person who five minutes ago said, “you should tell him.”

(M) ha ha. 😒

Not even Maddie pressured him when he wasn’t ready.

Which definitely is not the point of this. But maybe Buck should be a better friend… Except, how can he after this?

Is he supposed to pretend to be happy for them? Sit back and watch as they live out their happily ever after with Chris, Jee, and the new baby.

What about Chimney?

Hen won’t stand for that.

Buck’s heart leaps when he catches another message.

(M) thank you for telling me ❤ ️ even if you were several shots deep

(M) drink lots of water

(M) AND DON’T TEXT OR CALL HIM YET

So, this has to be when it happened. A drunken phone call from Eddie spewing to Maddie that he’s in love with her. And Maddie had the decency to tell Eddie not to tell Buck while he was still drunk.

Buck checks the date and freezes.

It can’t be.

It is.

It’s the day Maddie asked Buck if he was in love with Eddie.

Fuck, she must’ve asked so she could get the all clear! And Buck had to insist that he couldn’t be in love with his straight best friend.

Because he couldn’t be. He still can’t be.

He’s not allowed to be because that isn’t fair to him or Eddie. They need each other. They’ve needed each other since before they even knew it. Far before they met, they were destined to find one another.

Or maybe Eddie was destined to find him so he could find Maddie. Which means he doesn’t need Buck anymore.

Eddie groans in his sleep and turns over. Buck panics and turns off the phone, tossing it on the side table. He cringes when it loudly thuds.

Eddie doesn’t open his eyes, but he reaches out to him, hand patting the space between them, searching for something.

Buck tries to remain out of reach, but when Eddie frowns and breathes out a panicky, “Buck?” He can’t help but grab his hand, running a soothing thumb over his smooth skin.

“I’m here,” Buck whispers back shakily. He’s here, but for how long?

They’re supposed to have each other’s backs. That’s the promise they made to each other.

But Eddie seeing Buck’s married, pregnant sister behind his back? That doesn’t exactly feel like having his back.

Not only that, but they have a no lying rule in their house that Eddie has violated several times now. This isn’t something that just affects Buck. This is something that could be detrimental to Chris.

Buck glances over at his best friend, who looks beautiful as ever snoring away into his pillow with the smallest smile on his face.

He promised himself he wouldn’t intervene.

But as Eddie’s best friend and Maddie’s brother, he has to. This is about saving Eddie’s relationship with Chris, who always comes first. And this is about preventing Maddie from destroying the greatest family she’s ever had.

Without any hesitation, Buck grabs his own phone and sends a quick text off to Chimney.

(B) lunch tomorrow? my treat!

He nearly asked about brunch, but he made a promise to Chris that he would make pancakes in the morning. And he��s going to honor every promise he makes to this family, spoken or unspoken.

-:-:-:-:-:-

For the first time since sharing the bed, Buck wakes up on his side alone.

He squints and looks around, patting the nightstand for his phone so he can check the time.

He picks it up and finds a text from Chimney.

Everything from the night before comes flooding back, and Buck can’t help but send a panicked response.

(B) NOT WITH MADDIE

He cringes at the alarm bells that will go off in Chim’s head from that response and tries to fix it.

(B) i was thinking it’s been a while since we hung out just the two of us!

(B) nothing!!!

(B) can’t a guy take his brother in law out without an ulterior motive??

It’s a fair point. But Buck needs this to happen.

(B) please 🥺

Buck answers with a time around noon and the location of Eddie and Maddie’s brunch spot as he gets out of bed. He needs to get the pancakes started before Chris gets up, and he probably needs to find Eddie.

Luckily for him, the solution to both those things is in the kitchen.

Buck can feel the fondness creeping up his chest as he stares at a hungover Eddie cradling a cup of coffee, leaning back against the counter. His eyes are closed, head tilted back against the cabinet. With the slow, even rise and fall of his chest, Buck wonders if he’s managed to fall asleep.

As he takes another step forward, the floorboard creaks, and Eddie squints a single eye open.

“Morning,” Buck says as gently as he can, but Eddie still winces.

He’s slightly grateful that Eddie will be out of it today, so he won’t notice if Buck is acting weird.

“You’re acting weird.”

Scratch that.

Buck frowns. “I’m not acting weird. You’re acting weird.”

“Says the guy who is looking at me like I killed your pet gerbil.”

“Pet gerbil?”

“Not the point,” Eddie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m just…” trying not to freak out about the fact you’re having an affair with my sister, “weirded out by the fact you’re up before me.” Good save.

The response seems to appease Eddie. He closes his eyes again and tilts his head toward the coffee maker. “I made you a cup.”

Next to the Hildy Buck’s shocked Eddie used, there’s a pale blue mug with a yellow bee on it that Eddie had gifted Buck after the whole beenado thing. He had insisted that the store was selling bee themed items for half off, so he just happened to grab it. But when Buck went to check, he found nothing on sale.

Damnit. The bee mug was probably for Maddie. Or did Eddie’s crush only start after moving to Texas?

“It’s not like I poisoned it,” Eddie comments, eyes still closed.

Buck jumps a little and takes the mug, eyeing it because maybe Eddie knows that he knows about the affair. Maybe that’s why he got up so early and made this for him.

Then again, killing Maddie’s brother probably wouldn’t be the best way to keep her affection.

Buck hesitantly sips at the hot liquid, sighing when he tastes the coffee made just the way he likes it.

“No poison?” Eddie teases.

“No poison,” Buck confirms, turning away to grab milk and eggs out of the fridge. “Hey, I’m about to make pancakes, so you might want to head back to the room or something. I’ll probably be loud.” He's not sure if there's ever been a time when he's made pancake making a loud task, but he can make it so.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, and Buck’s too focused on pretending everything is fine to notice what’s going on with him.

“Oh,” Eddie says, sounding a little hurt. “Yeah, I’ll get out of your way.”

And yeah, when he sadly walks out of the room, Buck definitely feels a little guilty. But he’s not sure what else to do!

Ultimately, he ends up fixing a plate of very greasy bacon with eggs and brings it to their room, where Eddie is typing away at his phone. Buck nearly drops the plate at the sight, but he manages to put it on the side table before he can ruin the small meal. “I hope this helps more than pancakes. Feel better,” Buck says awkwardly before fleeing the room.

He’s not sure if he made things better or worse.

When Chris gets up, Buck is grateful to have the buffer and instantly tries to engage him in a lively conversation the half-asleep teen is not having while he’s trying to get ready.

But by the time Eddie joins them at the table, Chris is settled in, feasting on a small stack of pancakes, and Buck is able to appropriately divert his attention away from Eddie.

At some point, Eddie’s hand settles over Buck’s knee, which he didn’t realize was bouncing up and down incessantly.

Buck can feel the way Eddie’s concerned gaze is burning into the side of his face, but he continues to listen intently to Chris complain about his history teacher. Or maybe it’s his math teacher. Maybe it’s about a student. He can’t exactly think with the hand on his knee, but it’s still not enough to entirely drown out his thoughts.

They ride to school soon after, and Buck tries as hard as he can to keep things entirely normal in front of Chris. But as soon as they drop him off, Eddie asks, “What’s going on?”

“I’m going out to lunch with Chimney,” Buck blurts out, hoping it counts as a somewhat truthful answer.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “And you’re feeling guilty about it or something?”

“Yeah,” Buck answers. Or something. He settles into his seat a little more, hoping Eddie will drop it.

“Is this about last night? Because I’ll be completely honest, Buck, I have bits and pieces and I know I was…” he takes a deep breath and considers his words carefully, “touchy.”

Buck shakes his head. “No, you were fine.” Other than telling my sister that you love her, even though that’s apparently normal for her.

“Good,” Eddie says with a nod, ending the conversation.

Buck nearly sighs in relief.

When they get back to the house, he takes as long as he can getting ready for lunch. By the end, he’s shaved, put on cologne, filed his nails, and kicked Eddie out of the room to try on at least five different outfits.

There’s nothing else he can really do, so he just stands and stares at himself in his full-length mirror.

Eddie interrupts his staring by softly knocking on the door. “You dressed?”

No lying in the Buckley-Diaz house. “Uh, yeah.”

The door opens, and Buck watches in the reflection as Eddie comes up behind him, smoothing his collar in the back before running his hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Eddie makes eye contact with him in the mirror and smiles. “You look nice. All of this is for Chimney?”

“I can’t get dressed up for my brother-in-law?”

Eddie squints at him, and his smile drops. He takes a small step back and asks, “Are you… going on a date?”

Buck turns around with wide eyes. “With Chimney?”

“No,” Eddie scoffs, “With someone who isn’t Chimney.”

Honestly, it’s been a while since he’s gone on a date or even thought about it. “Why would I be going on a date?”

Eddie gestures up and down at him. “You’re all shaven and you smell… is that my cologne?”

Buck ducks his head down to sniff at the collar of his shirt. “Shit, I thought this was my date cologne.”

“So, you are going on a date.”

And he sounds so… jealous. Buck can’t really find another word for it. But it makes sense. Buck is allowed to go in public with whoever he wants to date and parade them around. But Eddie and Maddie…

“You didn’t have to lie about the Chimney part,” Eddie says, tension back in his shoulders. “You’re… allowed to date.” It sounds like Buck's anything but allowed to date, with the way it sounds like Eddie would rather be shot than give Buck this weird sort of permission.

Buck reaches out and grabs Eddie’s hands, not sure why he’s trying so hard to reassure him. “I’m not going on a date. I’m meeting Chimney at noon for lunch. I just… felt like taking extra time getting ready today.”

The tension melts off Eddie, and he smiles again. “Well, you look good, Buck. Very… datable.”

The tips of Buck’s ears start burning as he ducks his head shyly.

“Oh, I should see if Maddie is free. We can do lunch instead of brunch this week. There’s this place she’s been dying to try with these huge salads.” By the end of his little gushing session about Maddie, he’s already managed to get his phone out and start typing to her.

It’s a very rude awakening for Buck.

He steps around Eddie and heads to the front door, grabbing his keys and wallet on the way.

“Buck?” Eddie calls out.

“I’m… going to the store.”

“Do you have time before your lunch?” Eddie asks as he peeks his head out of the room, phone still in hand.

Buck opens the door and says, “I’ll make sure not to get anything cold. See you in a bit!” He closes the door before Eddie can even make it to the door.

There goes their no lying rule.

He texts Chimney asking if they can move lunch up an hour or two.

As long as ur still paying

He’ll pay for the entire restaurant if that means he can have this conversation sooner rather than later. He needs this whole thing to end… fast.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Buck!” Chimney calls out when he sees him outside the restaurant, waiting at the hostess stand. He claps him on the arm. “You smell nice. Hey, isn’t this Eddie and Maddie’s brunch spot?”

“Do you think Maddie’s having an affair?”

To be fair, Buck didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but it’s been the only thing on his mind all morning.

To his surprise, Chimney just laughs, “Do I think my wonderful, very pregnant wife is having an affair?”

With the worst timing in the world, a waiter appears.

The same waiter from before.

“Table for two, please,” Chimney says for Buck, who can’t do anything other than stare at his friend morbidly.

“Right this way,” the waiter, Leo, according to the nametag, leads them to a spot outside.

The exact same spot where Buck crashed Eddie and Maddie’s brunch date.

This is like one big cosmic joke.

They take a seat, and the waiter leaves them with two menus.

Buck doesn't waste any time getting back into it. “Chim- no, Howard. I saw the texts.”

Chimney laughs and unfolds his menu. “What texts?”

“The texts between Maddie and Eddie.”

The menu drops as fast as Chimney’s smile.

He takes a few deep breaths as the truth washes over him. “So, those weren’t platonic brunch dates. I should’ve seen this coming!” Chimney runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “I mean, who can compete with Eddie?”

Buck perks up and points at him. “That’s what Tommy said!”

“What?”

Buck shakes his head. “Nothing. But, you’re right, we should’ve seen this coming.”

The waiter comes back to take their drink order, lingering for longer than Buck would like as he eyes the two of them unsubtly.

As soon as he’s gone, Chimney puts his head in his hands. “Hot people should not meet other hot people.” He leans back in his chair and stares off. “I can’t tell if I’m angry or jealous. I think I’m both. God, I’m losing it.”

“Tell me about it,” Buck replies, not fully hearing him. Once it sinks in, he leans across the table. “Wait, what do you mean by jealous?”

“Have you seen Eddie? I don’t even blame Maddie.” He pauses before shaking his head. “Wait, what am I saying? She and I have a kid together. Two of them! And we’re happy. At least, I thought we were.” He picks at the tablecloth and quietly says, “But maybe I’ve been treating her like she’s one step away from breaking. Especially after the whole… kidnapping thing. God, and Eddie was really there for her then, and maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I'm still not. Shit, maybe she deserves him.”

“Wait, you think Eddie is hot?”

Chimney looks up at him in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me that Maddie loves me, and my marriage isn’t actually falling apart?”

“I don’t know. That sounds like a Hen conversation.”

Chimney sits up suddenly. “We should ask Hen! She has experience with this stuff.” Buck nearly agrees, but Chimney deflates quickly. “But she and Karen are in a really great place right now, and they don’t need us to bring up that point in their lives.”

Buck leans forward and drops his voice. “Do you think we could get Athena to tail them?”

Chimney shakes his head. “Not after defying the government and FBI. Hen said they’ve been keeping a close eye on her recently. Plus, I don’t want Bobby to give me those sad, pitying looks.”

With truly horrible timing, as always, the waiter manages to appear out of thin air and ask, “Are you two ready to order?”

They both shake their heads, and Leo disappears quickly, probably sensing that his tip might be decreasing the more he sticks his nose in their business. Buck would feel kind of bad, though. It’s not his fault that he’s witnessing the downfall of Buck’s life.

“So, what should we do?” Chimney asks.

Buck taps his fingers on the table. “Order food and see what we come up with. Maybe an intervention?”

“Or we can storm in on them right now and confront them.” The manic glint in Chimney’s eyes makes Buck consider calling Athena as don’t be stupid backup. The glint quickly dies. “No, I can’t when Jee’s with them.”

It’s a great point. No need to get the kids involved. In fact, it would be best if they never knew this happened. “So, we do both. Storm in and confront them with an intervention. But we somehow get Chris and Jee out of the equation.”

“Maybe Hen and Karen will take them for a day,” Chimney says, glancing down at the menu.

Buck scans over the options, trying not to think about what Eddie would get.

The waiter comes back soon after they decide on what they want, and they resume their conversation, making a four-step plan they call “Bro Day” for the upcoming Saturday. It’s five days away, but the only time they’re all off shift. In the meantime, they will do anything they can to prevent Eddie and Maddie from somehow seeing each other.

After they finalize their plans and Buck pays for their lunch, Leo stops them on the way out. He looks at Buck and asks, “Sorry, but are you Buck?”

Buck nods with a frown.

“You’re the one they’re always talking about.”

Chimney wraps an arm around Buck as he deflates. “Yeah, that’s me.” As they walk out, Buck can’t help but say, “See? They’ve been trying so hard to keep this away from me.”

“At least you’ve been mentioned.”

Buck’s heart goes out to Chimney. It really could be worse.

As they go their separate ways, Buck calls out, “We can keep a secret, right? It’s only five days.”

“Yeah! Piece of cake.”

-:-:-:-:-:-

I think Maddie is onto me

Buck stares at the candlelit dinner Eddie has prepared for him and texts Chimney back.

eddie is definitely onto me

Eddie is turning an interesting shade of pink as Buck gapes at him. “I, uh, thought it might be nice to have a night just the two of us. Chris is working on that history final he’s been complaining about with his partner and staying the night.”

It only takes a few minutes before it clicks. This was a dinner meant for Maddie, but he’s Eddie’s second-best option for a Buckley.

Unfortunately, Buck will take whatever he can from him. Especially when Eddie reveals that it’s spaghetti and breadsticks specially made by Bobby.

Eddie goes all out for this dinner. Going as far as pulling out a bottle of wine, leaning over Buck as he pours it, smelling of his good cologne.

God, Maddie would love this date.

They’re three glasses of wine deep when they make it to the couch for a movie. Buck tries not to feel guilty about using Eddie’s obvious projection as a means to temporarily fulfill what he’s always wanted deep down.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to cuddle up to him on the couch, and Buck lets him.

They get halfway through the movie before they both doze off. Buck ends up waking up enough to pause the movie before going back to sleep.

Eddie nudges him awake later, helping drag him to the bathroom where they brush their teeth side by side. It all feels so beautifully domestic that Buck wishes he could live in this moment forever.

The only thing that could make it better is if Chris were there to groan at the two of them.

When they go to bed, Eddie ends up collapsing nearly on top of him, whispering, “Goodnight, Buck,” into the crook of his neck.

Buck blames the wine.

But after that night, the strangely romantic gestures keep coming.

There are flowers that Eddie gives Buck before their long shift. Hand holding under the table, in the car, and sometimes just because Buck is close by. After their 48-hour shift, Eddie pulls Buck into their bed and drapes himself over him again while they nap. Buck wakes up to a soft kiss being pressed against his cheek before he’s handed coffee perfectly made.

Eddie must miss Maddie.

Or Eddie knows that Buck knows, and he’s trying to distract him.

My god, it’s kind of working.

He notices a text from Chimney.

Entirely selfishly and confusingly, Buck wishes they had planned this confrontation for weeks or months from now. He could live in Eddie’s guilt forever if this is how he repaid him.

God, it’s an awful thought to have.

He’s pulled out of it when he hears Eddie snort at the message. “You two are really excited about this ‘Bro Day,’ yet you still haven’t told me what you are doing.”

Buck swallows. “We told you, we’re doing more brother stuff while giving you and Maddie a day to rest and relax away from us.”

Eddie climbs back into bed and nudges Buck’s shoulder. “What if I don’t want you away from me?”

The words successfully tug Buck’s heartstrings. He wonders if he sweet-talks Maddie like this. He ignores the thought and lets himself have this moment. “And what if the feeling is mutual?”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, suddenly looking conflicted. He looks away and lets out a deep breath. “Buck, I need to talk to you.”

The mug nearly slips out of Buck’s hands.

“Uh, when?” Buck tries to subtly ask.

Eddie looks at his watch. They need to pick up Chris soon. “Tomorrow?”

“We work tomorrow.”

“After Chris goes to bed.”

“I’ll need to get some sleep. Bro Day is a big day.”

Eddie smiles fondly at him and shakes his head. “Bro Day is a big day,” he says under his breath, but there’s no animosity in his tone.

“Can it wait until Saturday night?” Buck asks hopefully. He needs Chimney’s support for this particular conversation.

Eddie nods. “Yeah, Buck. It can wait for Saturday.”

Buck tries not to look too relieved. He grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes it to show his thanks.

If only this perfect bubble between them wasn’t crafted from something so awful.

He doesn't want it to end, but he needs it to.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Bro Day comes faster than Buck would like. And by the time it does, Chris also starts acting weird.

It happened after Eddie had a hushed conversation in Chris’s room with him when he thought Buck was asleep on the couch.

Eddie had emerged concerningly teary-eyed, and ever since, Chris has been giving his dad encouraging looks.

Buck doesn’t really know what that's about because there’s absolutely no way Eddie told Chris.

Then again, Chris does like Maddie, so maybe…

No. Absolutely no way.

But none of that matters. Because today is Bro Day. And Buck needs to be completely in his right mind for this.

Karen and Hen stop by to pick up Chris when Buck is getting ready, and he hears Eddie having some type of hushed conversation with them as well.

It’s like Buck’s living in some alternate universe where Eddie might be telling everyone about his affair, and they’re all just… okay with it?

Since when were Buck and Chimney the only normal people in the 118?

As Buck finishes up tucking his shirt into his pants, Eddie slips into their room, coming up behind Buck and wrapping his arms around him, tucking his head over his shoulder. “So, are you finally going to tell me what you two are doing today that’s made you both act so weird?”

Buck leans back into Eddie, wondering if this is the last time he’ll ever be able to bask in this thing they’ve settled into. “We haven’t been acting weird.”

“Yes, you have.”

Buck checks his phone and curses. He’s running late.

He tries to step out of Eddie’s arms, but Eddie clings harder. “Do you have to go?”

If the plan is to be executed smoothly, he does. So, as a last-ditch attempt to rush away, Buck uses the excuse he and Chimney had come up with. “We have to get to this apartment showing now, so yes.”

When Eddie freezes up, Buck is able to rush away, typing away at Chimney that he’s running out the door.

“I’ll see you later!”

Traffic isn’t too bad, and Buck meets Chimney in a random apartment building parking lot. Just in case Maddie and Eddie are checking their location.

Chimney climbs into the Jeep, a small box of donuts in his hand, which he juggles as he pulls up his phone. “And you’re sure they’re going to meet up today.”

Buck scoffs, “You, me, and the kids out of the house? Of course, they’re going to meet up. I give it thirty minutes tops.”

“Whose house do you think they’ll meet at?”

The question is answered for them when they see Eddie’s location move out of his house.

“Well, that was fast,” Chimney sighs.

“Onto part three of Bro Day: Waiting.”

Chimney frowns. “I thought that was part two.”

“We added donuts later as part one.”

“Right.”

They sit in silence as they watch Eddie’s location slowly approach Maddie’s.

Chimney runs a hand through his hair. “Hear me out. We skip parts one through three and skip to part four.”

Ambush.

“That works for me,” Buck says, already starting his car.

Chimney nods, angrily stuffing a donut into his mouth.

He gets to the house in a matter of minutes, probably violating quite a few traffic laws.

Buck parks his car down the street. “Okay, so no sneaking around like we said. We’ll pretend we forgot something and give them plenty of time to realize we’re there.”

At first, they had planned to sneak in, going as far as creeping in through the back door to catch them off guard.

But considering the recent kidnapping, the fact that Maddie is pregnant, and Eddie is prone to panic attacks… well, it didn’t feel like the greatest move.

“Gentle ambush, here we come,” Chimney announces. He’s the first one out of the car, donuts in hand, but Buck is quick to follow.

They go through the plan of unlocking the door, dropping the keys twice during the process, then pushing the door open slowly, letting the hinges squeak for way too long.

They both pop their heads in, expecting to find the pair on the couch or in the kitchen.

But they’re nowhere to be found.

Buck checks their location. They’re still here. Which means…

He and Chimney exchange fearful looks before they stomp their way into the house. All the way outside the one door that is shut.

The bedroom door.

There’s something muffled playing inside, and Buck almost wonders if they’ve heard them at all.

Chimney takes a deep breath and puts his hand on the doorknob. “You ready, Buckley?”

Buck nods.

Chimney pushes the door open.

Part Six (Final Part!)

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 abc #buck x eddie #buddie 911 #911 spoilers #sort of #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #5 + 1 fic

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auroraharper · 22 days ago

Text

To all the Boys I love - Carlos Poly - PART 2

Carlos stood just outside the paddock entrance, hands tucked tightly into the sleeves of his hoodie despite the rising spring heat. His heart had been thudding in his chest since the moment he landed. He hadn’t seen any of them yet. Not in person.

Not after the letters.

He knew.

He knew they had them. He’d checked the box the night before his flight and found it empty — the neat stack of paper that once held his most dangerous truths… gone.

And Ollie. Sweet, meddling, well-meaning traitor Ollie.

Carlos hadn’t confronted him. Couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him to be angry, not when he remembered the note stuck to the bottom of the now-empty box.

“You forgot to send your letters! Don’t worry, I posted them for you. Good luck, Paddock Papa 💌 -Ollie”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

How the hell was he supposed to face them now?

Every name, every letter, every confession spun in his head like a carousel of doom: Lando. Charles. Max. Oscar. Daniel. George. Alex.

And, technically, George again. (“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “He got two. He’s going to kill me.”)

He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. He'd imagined this moment differently. Maybe one of them — just one — would’ve come to him quietly. Maybe someone would’ve smiled, pulled him aside, whispered “I didn’t know you felt that way, but…”

But everything was too quiet. No texts. No calls. Not even the group chat. The silence was loud.

Carlos checked the mirror on the wall by the entrance, smoothing his hair, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans. He even practiced his smile.

He had to be brave. He had to act like he didn’t know. Like this was just another race weekend. Like his heart hadn’t been laid out, dissected, and possibly discarded.

The moment he stepped into the paddock, the air felt colder.

People were already watching him. He could feel it in the shift of shoulders, the sudden quiet when he passed by groups of engineers and media interns. Whispers.

And still no sign of them.

Carlos kept walking. Every step a prayer.

Just be okay. Just smile. Just survive this weekend.

He turned the corner— —and stopped.

Lando was there.

Holding the letter in his hand. Waiting.

Carlos’ stomach dropped.

He forced a smile anyway. “Lando, hey—”

But Lando didn’t smile back.

Carlos’s hope cracked at the edges.

He didn’t know it then, but by the end of the day, his heart would be in pieces. And the worst part?

He had no one to blame but himself.

“Lando,” Carlos smiles, too hopeful. Too open.

Lando doesn’t smile back.

“I thought I was special,” he says quietly, holding up the crumpled letter. “But George got one. So did Charles. Max. All of them.”

Carlos pales.

“I—Lando, I never meant—”

“Were you bored, Carlos? Just collecting hearts for fun? Do we mean nothing to you?” His voice cracks. “Was I just a joke?”

“No! I wrote those letters because I loved you. I love you all—”

“You what?”

Lando steps back like Carlos just slapped him.

“You love all of us? You think that makes it better?!”

Carlos reaches out, desperate, but Lando flinches away.

“I trusted you. I thought… I don’t know. I thought I mattered more.”

Then he turns and walks away.

Carlos stands there, trembling.

……………..

Charles doesn’t yell.

He walks up to Carlos slowly, eyes cool, unreadable.

“So it wasn’t just me.”

“Charles, please, it wasn’t like that—”

“Did you love me, or did you just write poetry for the whole damn grid?”

Carlos chokes out, “I loved you.”

Charles’ jaw tightens. “And you told Max the same thing. And Daniel. And Lando.”

“They were private,” Carlos whispers. “They were never supposed to be seen.”

“Oh, so you get to love in secret, and we get to be humiliated in public?”

Carlos opens his mouth, but Charles just shakes his head.

“You broke something I don’t think can be fixed.”

He walks off without another word.

Carlos’s eyes well up.

………………….

Max doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares.

Carlos shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

“You gave me that letter,” Max finally says, “and I believed it. I believed every word.”

“You should. It was real.”

“You said you loved me like no one else saw you.”

“I meant it—”

“But you said the same damn thing to everyone else, Carlos!” Max snaps.

Carlos flinches.

“I don’t share,” Max spits, stepping closer. “Not in love. Not like that.”

“I wasn’t playing you, I swear—”

Max laughs, but it’s bitter. “Then what were you doing? Gathering souvenirs? Seeing who’d fall first?”

“I didn’t want anyone to fall. That’s why I never sent them!”

“Well, now we’re all drowning. Congrats.”

He storms away, and Carlos physically sags against the wall.

……………….

Oscar is colder than Carlos thought possible.

“I really thought you saw me,” he says flatly, crossing his arms.

“I did. I do.”

“But you also ‘see’ George. And Alex. And every other guy you kissed on paper.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It wasn’t physical—it was emotional. It’s not some stupid game—”

“Then why does it feel like I lost?”

Carlos is speechless.

Oscar gives a thin smile, cruel in how calm it is.

“You broke all our hearts in one go. That’s got to be a record.”

And he walks off, perfectly composed. Which somehow hurts more.

…………………

Carlos sees George walking and chases after him.

“George—wait—please—”

George doesn’t even break stride.

“You know I got two letters, right?” he says over his shoulder. “Thought that meant something. Thought maybe you were serious.”

“I was,” Carlos says breathlessly. “You’re different—”

“We were friends. And you used that.”

George stops suddenly and turns.

“You think I don’t know what unrequited love feels like? You think this was funny? You broke my trust. You made me think I mattered more.”

“You do,” Carlos whispers.

“No. I was just a chapter in your diary of flings-you-never-had.”

George walks away before Carlos can fall apart again.

………………….

Daniel doesn’t yell. He looks… broken.

He holds the letter like it’s glass, fragile and cutting.

“I read this and I cried, mate,” he says softly.

Carlos tears up. “Danny…”

“I believed you. For a second I thought—fuck, I thought this meant something. That I wasn’t imagining it. That we weren’t just memories.”

“You’re not,” Carlos pleads. “You’re everything.”

Daniel shakes his head. “But I wasn’t the only one. And that’s what kills me.”

Carlos tries to speak, but Daniel leaves before he can find the words.

…………………

Alex doesn’t even say hello.

“Tell me one thing,” he says, expression tight. “Did you mean it when you said I was light?”

Carlos nods, frantic. “I did. You are. I wasn’t lying.”

“Then why the hell did you tell the same thing to seven other people?”

Carlos whispers, “Because I love in too many directions. But it doesn’t make any of it less real.”

Alex swallows hard. “Then maybe you should’ve learned how to love properly before dragging all of us into your confusion.”

And he walks away.

………………..

Carlos is alone.

In his hotel room. The box is empty.

All the letters are gone.

And so are they.

They won’t return his texts. They won’t look at him. And maybe he deserves it.

He lies in bed, unable to sleep, blinking up at the ceiling.

The line from one of his own letters echoes in his mind:

“If I let myself love you, I don’t think I’d survive the fallout.”

And now, he isn’t sure he will.

……………….

One Week Later — Qualifying Day

The paddock wasn’t loud anymore.

It was sharp. Tense. Silent in the wrong ways. And everyone could feel it.

Conversations that used to be easy were now layered with suspicion, as if every word was a test. Eyes darted. Smiles were fake. And Carlos?

Carlos walked through it all like a ghost.

Every driver who got a letter now stood carefully apart from the others. No more joking shoulder bumps. No more hugs. No more late-night sim racing trash talk. Just war.

…………….

Lando barely acknowledged anyone anymore. He was all clipped nods and raised eyebrows.

When Oscar came into the McLaren hospitality, Lando got up and left without a word, brushing past him with just enough shoulder to make it sting. Oscar didn’t flinch. He was too proud.

But when he passed Max later, he muttered, “Guess some people just needed eight safety nets.”

Lando heard. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The next time he passed George in the hallway, he said, "He even wrote you twice, huh? Must've been desperate."

………….

Max didn’t yell. He didn’t throw anything. He just turned glacial. His usual fire became cold steel.

He’d always been territorial, but now it was venom.

…………..

Charles wouldn’t look at anyone. He kept his sunglasses on indoors, his jaw locked, arms folded. He didn't speak unless spoken to.

He walked past Carlos in the Ferrari garage without even a glance, even when their shoulders brushed. When asked about strategy, he kept it professional, clipped. Cold.

……………

Oscar became sarcasm personified. “You all mad because you thought you were the only one?” he quipped in the Red Bull motorhome, fully aware Max was behind him.

Max said nothing, but the way his fist clenched was enough.

Oscar didn’t stop. “Honestly, Carlos played us all. I should’ve known. The guy flirts like he breathes.”

And just like that they started hating the person they say they love just because they were not the only one.

……………..

George was bitter. He didn’t even try to hide it.

“I got two letters,” he snapped. “That’s how thorough he was. Covered all his bases.”

“Maybe he just had a lot of feelings,” His mind whispered.

George laughed once, short and sharp. “He had too many.”

…………..

Carlos stood there in the center of it all, watching the dominoes fall. And every crashing piece sounded like his own name, like every part of him had been weaponized.

He hadn’t played them. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. He’d just loved — too much, too quietly, too secretly.

Now they all hated each other.

And him.

#charlos #charlos fanfic #carlando #carcar #carmax #carniel #fluff

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itscalledastrategyfred · 2 months ago

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Water Balloons in the Paddock

Request: <3

Pairing: Dad!Carlos Sainz x Daughter!reader (+ a Kimi Antonelli and Alex Albon cameo.)

Warnings:nothing unless a baby get's their heart broken but alr

Summary: Kimi turns into a "heartbreaker" and some adorable payback from Carlos and his daughter.

Notice: Yes, this is from @heyitspapayaontop. That is my second blog. Thank you<3

Carlos had always known that being a dad would change his life, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Not the sleepless nights, the glitter explosions, or even the emotional breakdowns over pink sparkly socks.

But today?

Today was new territory.

“Papá…” his five-year-old daughter whispered, tugging on his hand as they stood in the Mercedes hospitality. “Is Kiki coming soon?”

Carlos tried not to laugh. “Kimi? Sí, he’s finishing media duties.”

She practically sparkled at the name, her curls bouncing as she nodded. “Okay. I wanna give him the picture I drew.”

She held up a folded piece of paper, drawn with bold, lopsided hearts and what Carlos guessed was a version of her and Kimi Antonelli holding hands. In crayon.

Carlos knelt down. “Cariño… You know he’s a lot older than you, right?”

“I know,” she said, clutching her picture to her chest. “But I’m gonna marry him. You said I can do anything I want.”

Carlos bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile. Technically, he had said that.

And finally, Kimi appeared around the corner, hair still messy from his helmet, chatting with a girl. A girl she didn't know. A girl who held his water bottle and laughed at something he said. A girl who was holding his hand, not Y/N's/

And Y/N froze.

Her smile fell.

Like, really fell.

Carlos followed her gaze and oh… oh no.

She was watching Kimi look at Eli the way Max looked at his Red Bull trophy shelf.

She turned slowly, eyes wide and glassy. “Papá,” she whispered, voice small and cracking. “He has a girlfriend?”

Carlos gently scooped her into his arms. “Oh, mija…”

“I loved him.”

Eli spotted them and nudged Kimi, who waved instantly, grin wide. “Hey, princesa! You came!”

Carlos felt her tiny arms tighten around his neck. “Don’t wave at me,” she muttered. “You’re a heartbreaker.”

Carlos blinked. Dios mío.

Eli tilted her head. “Did… did we miss something?”

Kimi stepped closer and knelt beside Carlos, looking up at the tearful little girl.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t tell me you were taken!” she burst out. “I made you a picture!”

Carlos quickly passed Kimi the crayon drawing as a peace offering. Kimi stared at it with wide eyes, lips twitching into a warm smile. “Wow. This is so cool. Is this us?”

She sniffled, cheeks red. “Yes. But it’s ruined now. You like someone else.”

Kimi looked to Carlos, who just gave him a helpless shrug. “It's alright mate, I'll handle it.” Carlos whispered, giving Kimi a nod as he turned with Y/N in his arms. Softly sniffling.

The walk back to Williams wasn't so bad. It was her little cries and whimpers of sadness and heartbreak that made is bad.

“I was going to marry him!”

“Did he ever love me?”

“That girl is rude.”

Once he opened the door to the William's Hospitality, Alex saw him immediately and smiled. Y/N turned her head and sniffled again, quiter this time.

“Hi, tío Alex...” She mumbled.

Alex stopped.

Carlos frowned. He was clueless to this. And Rebecca could not find out.

“Oh, Darling, what happened!?” Alex said quickly, pulling her from Carlos' arms.

“Kiki doesn't love me.”

Alex looked at Carlos with a shocked expression. Carlos shook his head, “I don't know what to do.” He whispered to his teammate.

They both we're quiet for a moment.

Alex spoke up again.

He softly whispered in Y/N's ear. “Do you wanna throw water balloons at him?”

Y/N gasped, looking up at her uncle before nodding quickly, “Yes, yes!”

And that's how they were sitting in the paddock, using a hose that Ferrari said they could use. Y/N was giggling mischievously, helping her uncle and father make sure the balloons were perfect. There would be exactly twelve balloons thrown. In honor of Kimi's racing number.

They stood up, Alex counting quickly. “Right! Are we ready?”

Carlos chuckled when his daughter nodded with a squeal.

They marched over to the Mercedes garage where George whispered that Kimi was coming out his driver's room soon.

And when he did...

Y/N thre hers, missing a few times, and landing 2 of her four.

Alex made sure that all of his hit Kimi.

Carlos landed 2 extras to make up for the one's Y/N had missed.

“Ah! Wha-”

He got cut off by the familiar giggles.

Y/N was holding her dad's pant leg, enjoying seeing Kimi all soaked from the balloons.

“Principessa! Stavo per salire in macchina!" (“Princess! I was going to get in my car!”) He cried, but there was no anger.

Kimi knelt In front of the girl. “Is this because of Eli?”

Y/N nodded softly.

Kimi chuckled.

“You know, I still love you. It's just...a different sort of love from how I love her.” He said gently.

“So you can still be my Prince?”

Kimi chuckled. “Of course.”

She grinned softly.

Carlos smiled at the interaction and Alex was wiping a fake tear.

And all was right again. Kimi was a prince again, even if a civil war was almost caused.

A/N: HIIII I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!! I had sm fun writing it <3

#f1 x reader#f1#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#williams racing#carlos sainz#kimi antonelli#alex albon#george russell#formula one#dad!Carlos sainz#mercedes amg petronas#ferrari

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mrprettywhenhecries · 5 months ago

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gift wrap [g.t]

Part Three of 𝑨 𝑻𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒏–𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

Gator Tillman ✗ Win Lewis

➼ w.c. 1.7k ➼ warnings/tags. fluff, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, breeding kink (if you squint?), just some sweet sultry lovemaking ➼ a/n. Woo, this is a little later than I had planned, but hopefully you're still in the holiday mood. This series takes place about a year after the events of Don’t Waste Your Time (on Me), and while technically the main series is still being written, I wanted to take a small break to write some fluff for Win and Gator for Christmas. ➼ divider credits. @/strangergraphics

Appalled by his lack of wrapping skills, Win helps Gator wrap his gifts to the Lyons before deciding to let him unwrap an early Christmas gift.

“Oh who am I kidding? These are gunna look like shit anyway,” Gator muttered under his breath as he fumbled with the wrapping paper, his missing finger making the task more difficult than it already was. He’d never been very good at it in the first place, but now it was practically an exercise in futility, the package he was attempting to wrap looking more like a crumpled bundle of wrapping paper.

“Waited long enough to do your wrapping,” Win commented, drawn to the room by Gator’s frustrated grumbles. “It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out before offering to help and Gator’s head snapped up in surprise as she rounded the couch.

“I don’t need any help!” he huffed brusquely, trying to hide the half wrapped gift. “I mean, I got it—“ insisted, his voice dropping.

Win gave him a knowing look before sitting down next to him, crossing her legs as she settled on the floor. “That looks like shit,” she said and Gator let out a snort as he looked down at his work.

“Yeah, it kinda does,” he admitted, his lips twitching slightly. “Fine, maybe I might need some help,” he relented reluctantly.

Win grinned and pulled the box closer. “Hand me a piece of tape,” she said, smoothing the wrapping paper beneath it before folding the sides up and over the box, pulling it snug against the sides.

“How the fuck are you so good at this?” Gator asked, handing her the tape as he watched in awe.

“I like wrapping stuff,” she said, shrugging. “I used to wrap everyone’s gifts for everyone else, so eventually I got good at it,” she explained, finishing up the other sides and taping them in place.

“Who was this one for?” she asked, putting a little tag on it and grabbing the pen Gator had on the floor next to him.

“That one’s for Scotty,” he answered and Win wrote his niece’s name on the tag.

“Want me to do the others? Or do you wanna try?” she asked, turning to Gator expectantly.

He seemed to think for a moment before pushing the next box toward her. “You do Wayne’s and I’ll try doing Dot’s,” he decided and the two of them got to work.

It didn’t take long for Win to finish wrapping Wayne’s gift and she glanced over to see Gator trying to emulate what she’d done. The paper was a little crooked, but the paper was much less wrinkled this time.

“Looks good,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile, which he returned, pride shining through.

“Wasn’t that hard,” he quipped, as if he hadn’t needed help in the first place and Win rolled her eyes.

“Now that we’re finished, I was thinking I’d let you open one of your gifts early,” she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I won’t say no to that,” Gator exclaimed, glancing toward the gifts already sitting beneath their tree. “Does it matter which one?” he asked, clueless to her meaning.

“I was thinkin’… this one,” Win purred, crawling closer to straddle his hips and Gator’s brows rose, his hands going to her waist, fingers dipping just under the hem of her oversized sweater.

“Good choice,” he drawled, a grin playing at his lips. “Can’t wait to tear this one open,” he breathed, pushing her sweater higher, his palms skimming her warm skin. Win lifted her arms so he could pull her shirt over her head, shaking her hair out once she was free and Gator’s dark eyes fell to her chest, taking in the sight of her lacy bralette.

“This new?” he asked, his hands ghosting over the delicate lace to cover her tits, coaxing her nipples to stiffen with his thumbs.

“Mhmm,” Win hummed, peering at him through her lashes. “You like?”

Gator let out a soft chuckle. “Course I do. But now I’m curious if your panties match,” he mused, his palms trailing back down her body to circle her hips, giving them a brief squeeze as he lifted her, helping her to her feet so he could work her leggings down, dragging the elastic fabric down her legs, and she held onto his shoulders to steady herself as she stepped out of the garment.

“Well shit, guess they do,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to hers after admiring the matching bit of lace that hugged her hips and stretched between her legs.

“Don’t you look good enough to eat,” Gator drawled, pulling her closer to press a feather light kiss to her navel, his lips trailing downward till they skimmed over the lace and he nosed at her clit, his tongue swiping over her clothed folds, drawing a hitched moan to Win’s lips, and her body gave a jerk, her hips involuntarily shuddering, rolling against his face.

“Y’like that, huh?” he breathed, holding her close, not done teasing her yet. “You smell so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, burying his face deeper into her cunt, kissing her through the lace, the scent of her arousal making his cock stir beneath his jeans.

Pulling back just long enough to tug her panties down, Gator smirked at the whine that caught in her throat at the loss of his mouth on her sex, the sound hitching to a sharp gasp as he lapped at her bare clit, drawing it between his lips to suck at as he worked the damp lace down her legs. Her head fell back as her hips canted forward, and she buried her fingers in Gator’s hair, glad he wore it loose more often now, and he moaned as her nails grazed his scalp.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the thick denim of his jeans and he paused to palm himself, shuddering at the friction.

Win bit her lip as she watched him, relishing how needy she could make him so quickly—he was still like such a horny teenager sometimes, barely needing much to leave him desperate and wanting. Stepping out of her discarded panties, Win took Gator’s hands, helping him to his feet and hastily pushing his shirt over his head.

“You’re far too dressed for what comes next,” she teased, her husky voice turning syrupy as her hands trailed back down his chest, her fingers running through his soft thatch of dark chest hair, and she leaned in to press a kiss to one of the moles that stood out against his light skin before her lips moved to his nipple, circling it with her tongue as her hand deftly moved to undo his jeans, giving him a soft squeeze through his tented briefs.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Gator breathed in relief, his eyelids fluttering shut as she peeled his underwear down with his jeans to free him, his cock flopping out heavily, already leaking precum. When she wrapped her hand around him, giving his length a slow stroke, her thumb brushing over his sensitive tip, Gator drew a shuddering breath.

“C’mere,” he grunted, hefting her easily into his arms, and she obediently wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her the short distance to the couch, the heavy weight of his cock pressed between them.

Laying her back onto the couch, he nearly tumbled atop her, catching himself against the sofa arm with a soft chuckle, hovering over her, his cock teasing her folds.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he breathed, the words tumbling out in a rush and Win smiled, holding his face between her hands.

“I fuckin’ love you,” she repeated, a soft moan leaving her lips as he pressed into her, the sweet stretch of him nearly leaving her breathless, only for Gator to steal the rest of her breath with a searing kiss as his next thrust filled her deeper, his cock dragging deliciously against her g-spot, causing her to tighten around him, feeling each ridge and vein of his length as it moved inside her.

“You’re the best thing in my fuckin’ life,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear and Win’s arms wound round his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as her chest tightened with emotion.

“Oh Gate—“

Win’s words melted into a whine as he snapped into her and she began rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, urging him deeper, her breath hot against the crook of his neck where she buried her face.

“Fuck babe, you’re so tight, so fuckin’ good—“ Gator groaned, babbling praises as the hot coil of pleasure in his gut constricted with each thrust.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he mumbled, grabbing her thigh to push her leg higher, adjusting his angle, and her body reacted almost instantly, her walls fluttering and tightening around him.

“Oh fuck— Yes, right there—!” Win gasped breathlessly, her hips rolling desperately as heat filled her, slowly spreading outward.

“Gator, please—don’t stop!” she begged, her lips dragging across his flushed skin as she rocked beneath him.

“I ain’t stoppin’, baby, trust me,” Gator grunted. “Gunna fill this sweet ‘tang, leave you drippin’, honey,” he growled, dropping his chin as if to kiss her, seeking her lips only to find them parted wide, leaving him sharing her breath, panting heavily into her mouth as they hovered together on the precipice.

“Fuckin’ cum for me, Win,” he breathed, almost a plea, and her breath hitched as the earth gave way, her stomach dropping in the familiar rush before the plummet.

“Oh God—Gator!” she cried, tensing as she was swept away and Gator let go, cumming with a shudder, his thrusts slowing as he filled her, and he dropped his face to the crook of her neck as he fought to catch his breath, breathing in her scent.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, lifting his head to meet Win’s blissed out gaze, grey eyes lidded and face flushed.

“You can say that again,” she huffed lightly, pushing Gator’s hair from his forehead, stuck to the sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin.

“Don’t think I gotta tell you how much I loved my present,” he chuckled breathlessly, settling atop her, careful not to crush her and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “Good,” she laughed, letting her eyes slip shut. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you another one before Santa comes.”

➼ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @sailorskunk @hickeysgodcomplex @thecreelhouse

@girlwiththerubyslippers @mayhem24-7forever @professionalpromqueen

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #gator tillman fanfic #oc: win lewis #otp: wingator #joz.fic #fic: lewis-tillman christmas mini-series

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aroacebaggins · 18 days ago

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Everything is alright, tonight, 'cause I got you next to me

Hi, I wrote a thing.

This was inspired by some of the prompts for Cozy Cuddle Week, put on by @rivendellwatch (lovely event, thanks for all your work!) though I'm not actually sure if this technically fits the challenge, and I'm not posting on AO3 yet. But it's been far too long since I've finished anything I write. I'm also pretty new to fanfic in general and this is the first piece I'm sharing online so... again huge thanks for the prompts <3!! Also thanks to @varda-star-queen for tagging me on the event, that's how I found it! I've still been recovering from a rough flare-up so this was a great way to relax :)

This kinda fits into a larger concept I've been working on, sort of an AU. Inspired by the theorizing around Mirdania in tRoP, though not otherwise based on the show much, Celebrían is a member of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and an apprentice of Celebrimbor (Art of Mírdain Celebrían). I made several Mírdain OCs as side characters in the overarching plot. This however, has no plot and is just an excuse for Celebrían and my OC gang to exist mostly free of impending doom for a while. Featuring a guest appearance by Celebrimbor's First Age wine. Also, all characters become queer when I get my gay little hands on them, and Celebrían is no exception.

I used the prompt "Sleepy Pile™", and added the soft prompt and cute word wheels for extra fun, I got "mug sharing" and "home" I think.

The title is from an unreleased song by The Crane Wives called This is Home. Fluff is not usually what I write so I do find it funny I had to go into unreleased songs to find a TCW lyric that was sufficiently wholesome.

Also if any of the elvish names are horrendously assembled, uhhh no they're not, ignore that (I'm clueless and tips on names are actually greatly appreciated).

Thanks to my wonderful partner as well, who is not on here and knows practically nothing about the Silm, for proofreading. You rock, melesellë.

Um yeah, as usual I'm incapable of not rambling. Story below.

The bustle of Eregion's streets had mostly died down by the time stars began to peek through the clouds above. A crisp breeze played through a set of chimes somewhere, and a moment later a matching peal of laughter rang out quietly. The door to one of the houses lining the street was ajar; warm light spilling out onto the mosaic-cobbled ground. Bits of conversation floated through the evening air.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was lively. "Mallos, close the door!" someone shouted over the chatter and laughter. "The wind is getting in!"

An elf with short, blond hair and a lanky build balancing entirely too many mugs in his hands turned around. "We're still waiting for people!" he pouted.

"Well they can open the door!" A broad-shouldered elf woman with long, rich brown hair spilling down her back gave him an exasperated look as she took some of the mugs. "Everyone knows you don't lock it."

"Yes, but-"

The brown-haired elf looked up suddenly. "You!" she exclaimed. Another elf woman, silver-haired and struggling under a heavy satchel, had just stepped inside. "You're late, Brí!"

The woman at the door flashed up a bright grin as she leaned down to unlace her boots. "I wouldn't have been if you'd helped me with this." She heaved the bag up on her shoulder as she stood, leaving her boots on the doormat.

"Hmph. Here, give me that." The first woman shifted the drinks she carried into one hand and grabbed the bag from the other, pushing a mug towards her instead. "Trade you. And close the door behind you, will you?"

The satchel's owner took the drink but made to protest, still blinking in surprise, when a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Celebrían." A tall elf with light in their eyes stood smiling behind her. They took their hand from her shoulder and made a graceful sign while pushing the wooden door shut with the other.

"Thúllindë!" Celebrían beamed and carefully transferred her drink to one hand to mimic the traditional Vanyarin greeting she'd been lucky to learn from her mother. "I'll be honest, I didn't think you would come."

"Ah, I wasn't planning on it. But Dinuial wanted to." Thúllindë shrugged and flicked a golden braid over their shoulder.

"Wonderful, I've been wanting to talk to her about some new projects," Celebrían said. She glanced across the room. "Sirhith, be careful with that!"

The woman who had taken her bag looked up. "What in Eru's name is in here, Brí?" She lifted it heavily onto a tall table.

"A contribution to the party!" Celebrían spread her arms. "You didn't think I'd come empty-handed, did you?" In truth, Celebrían had long gotten over the need to make a good impression, but the old habits were hard to break. She supposed this one did no harm. She enjoyed giving gifts.

Sirhith smiled and shook her head. "Mallos! Here!" She loosened the strap of the bag to pull it open and whistled.

Mallos leaned over the table. "Oh good, just what we needed." He lifted out two large bottles of wine. "Where did you get this? I don't recognize it."

"From Tyelpë," Celebrían said, coming up and placing a hand on Sirhith's shoulder, who reached up to clasp her own hand over it. "It's First Age, apparently."

"From Celebrimbor, willingly?" Mallos asked suspiciously.

Celebrían laughed. "Yes, I didn't steal it. It is a consolation gift though, he can't make it tonight."

"To be expected," Thúllindë said. "What now?"

"I don't know, I think he and Annatar are working on something new." Celebrían shrugged, trying not to show her disquiet.

Sirhith wrinkled her nose. "Of course."

"At least that means Annatar won't be here either," Thúllindë added. Dinuial, the short elf woman who had appeared next to them, shook her dark curls and made a series of signs with her hands.

"Good thing, too. I'll tell you what I think of him," she ended with a familiar and very rude sign.

Typically well-mannered Thúllindë snorted. Then they frowned and shook their head. "It's been too tense lately. I don't like it, and I'm not sure I like him."

Sirhith sighed. "Yes, well, tonight's not about Annatar, for once. So let's enjoy it. Now that wine sounds excellent, love, but I may have to stick with Mallos' tea, I am hearing it's worthy of a song or two. In fact I should finish passing these mugs out. I'll meet you in the main room."

"Suit yourself." A dark-haired elf coming from the other room shouldered his way past her and unceremoniously uncorked a bottle, pouring himself a tall glass. "I, for one, will appreciate our lord's generosity."

Celebrían rolled her eyes. "Because you definitely need alcohol to make bad decisions, Menel."

"I'm offended," Menelmirë said dryly, tipping back his glass and then pouring several more to give away.

"Anyway," Thúllindë said, guiding the others towards the main room. Celebrían took a sip of her tea. It was good.

There were maybe 20 people crammed into Mallos' main room, standing and talking or lounging on furniture, cushions, or the plush rug on the floor. Mostly apprentices, but there was no distinction tonight. Sirhith stood near the middle of the room, hands on her hips, seeming to have just realized she had given away the last mug she was holding. Celebrían walked up behind her and wrapped an arm around her. "No worries, you can share mine."

Sirhith turned her head and smiled into Celebrían's embrace before slipping out to pull her by the hand through the crowd. "Come on, let's sit." She soon squeezed into a spot at the corner of Mallos’ velvet sofa. Celebrían perched on the armrest beside her and pressed a kiss into her hair, breathing in Sirhith's familiar scent: metal and wood shavings and lavender, with a hint of the steeped herbs from Mallos' tea, the fragrance that had filled the house. Sirhith looked up with a twinkle in her eye and wrapped her arm around Celebrían's waist, pulling her onto her lap. Celebrían shrieked, grinning, as she worked to keep the mug in her hand from spilling.

"All right, that's enough from you two," Menelmirë drawled, plopping down onto the floor by their feet and stretching out his legs. He tapped a nail, meticulously maintained despite his work, against another dangerously full wine glass and raised it above his head. The room quieted. He looked briefly across the room at Mallos, who nodded. "To the Gwaith-i-Mírdain," he said.

Wine glasses and mugs of tea raised around the room, the light from Fëanorian lamps hitting laughing faces. Celebrían leaned into Sirhith, feeling her smile against her own face.

"To the Mírdain!"

It was nearly midnight by the time the house had quieted. Most of the guests had departed; even Menelmirë had reluctantly said farewell to Celebrimbor's First Age wine. "I'm presenting my study on the geologic composition of the Hithaeglir in the morning," he'd said. "You did all say you'd be there, you'll remember.”

Sirhith was leaning drowsily on the arm of the couch, an empty mug on the side table next to her, holding up a creased piece of paper full of sketches and diagrams. Celebrían had stretched out with her head in Sirhith's lap while Thúllindë sat cross-legged at the other end. Dinuial was curled up next to them, nursing a last glass of wine. Thúllindë's eyes were closed serenely, but from the flickering movement of Dinuial's, Celebrían could guess they were still conversing through osanwë.

"And so the fountain will move it?" Mallos asked, returning from the kitchen. He playfully shoved Celebrían's legs out of the way and sprawled out on the sofa between her and Dinuial.

"Yes, I've worked with wind in my sculptures before, but water is a more natural choice for the subject matter" Sirhith said. "I've always wanted to portray Lady Uinen. But her hair, you see, that level of kinetics is difficult to achieve with metals. I'm picturing… filigree segments, but free to rotate in the spray."

Celebrían floated a finger over the charcoal sketches in Sirhith's hand. "Your skills can meet the challenge, melissenya, I'm sure of it."

"You'll have to tell Falmawen," signed Dinuial, setting aside her glass. "She'll be ecstatic."

Muffled scratching noises came from behind the sofa, and Thúllindë opened their eyes as a long-haired cat climbed out beside their head.

"Oh good," Mallos said. "She doesn't like all the guests. Glindú!" He raised a hand and smiled as the cat walked along the back of the couch and pressed her head into his hand.

"But she likes us," Celebrían added smugly with a yawn, throwing a leg back over Mallos, who gave a long-suffering sigh.

"She's fine with a limited number of guests."

"Smart cat," Thúllindë said. Mallos yelped as the creature jumped heavily onto his chest, and quiet laughter filled the room again as Glindú set to kneading his robes.

"Contrary to popular belief," he grumbled, "I am not actually a piece of the furniture."

Dinuial grinned mischievously. "I think you're outvoted," she signed, making a point to lean an arm on him as she stretched out. She twirled one of Thúllindë's long braids in her other hand as they shifted to lean on her shoulder.

"We love you, Mal," Celebrían murmured as her eyes drifted shut, untangling an arm to clumsily pat his head. He snorted. She reached up, twining her fingers with Sirhith's, who folded her sketches and tucked them away to comb her other hand through Celebrían's hair as she leaned down to place a kiss on each of her eyelids.

"I assume we're all staying then?" Sirhith asked sleepily.

"If any of you get up I will be personally offended," Mallos said.

Celebrían heard Thúllindë ask, "How did I let you drag me into this?", followed by a gentle chuckle at Dinuial's response.

“Ah, nonsense, you're better off with us,” yawned Sirhith. “You should sing us something, Lindë.”

“And what would our gracious host request I sing?”

“Some of Din’s verses. I know you've set them to music.” Mallos suggested.

Thúllindë laughed. “I have. Well…”

They started to sing quietly as Celebrían dozed off, and she could swear she could feel Dinuial glowing beside them. She held Sirhith's hand tighter in her own, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Celebrían had spent too long uncertain. Legacy and memory had filled her head until she no longer knew who she was. But when the Mírdain, when Celebrimbor, had offered her a chance to forge her own path, she had seized it, her mother's opinion be damned. And that night, with the Mírdain around her, Celebrían knew she was home.

#cozy cuddles week #cozy cuddle week 2025 #silm fic #silmarillion fic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #the rings of power #trop #celebrian #tolkien oc #my post #my writing

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partially-controlled-chaos · 2 months ago

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A WIP Wednesday so late that I'm actually on time

Because I lack all concept of time, the wonderful @gingervitus tagged me in WIP Wednesday last week and I'm just now getting around to it so like technically I am on time (I'm very sorry I promise I didn't forget). Thank you for the tag!! I may be late, but I do love a WIP Wednesday because it makes me accountable to someone other than myself. So please accept my apology in the form of a snippet for the chapter I'm currently working on for the "Rook is stuck in the Fade and Lucanis is Not Okay" fic that I've been lingering on for far too long. It has a name I swear.

Lucanis rolled his neck as his stretched his arm across his chest, his fingers flexing as the muscles in his shoulders began to strain. He held the position for a few breaths, closing his eyes as he focused on each slow inhale and exhale, clearing his mind for whatever may lie ahead. After repeating the motion on the opposite side, he focused on stretching his legs by taking low and deep lunges down the length of the pantry and back again until he was standing beside his cot. Spite followed beside him, not mimicking the motions considering a demon had no need of loosening muscle and limbs, but keeping pace.

In order to lay siege to Minrathous and somehow wrestle the dagger out of Solas’s grasp to rescue Rook, both demon and man needed to be in sync and think as one. They had no time for arguing and a mistake could cost them their one chance at finding Rook. Spite watched silently as Lucanis bent forwards and practically folded himself in half, hugging his shins close to his chest to stretch out the remaining muscles in his back. He continued his slow, practiced breathing until his warm up ritual was finally complete.

We need. To make. An agreement. Spite finally spoke as Lucanis began dressing himself in his leathers. The demon perched himself on Lucanis’s bed; squatting on top of the shaggy blanket as he looked up to the assassin. Lucanis briefly met his gaze as he pulled his leathers from where they were folded at the foot of the bed and gave the demon a quick nod.

“We do.” He replied simply as he tugged on his trousers, “We have to understand each other if we want this to work.” He tucked the tails of his shirt into the trousers, smoothing out the material before fastening the buttons at his waste. He slipped the outer piece of armor on over his head and was met with an intense violet radiating from his cot.

Kill Solas. Make him bleed. Make him hurt. Find Rook! A rather wicked smile spread across Spite’s lips at the thought of slicing and splitting Solas from tip to toe. The demon pulsed with color, his excitement evident on his face and in his aura.

“Eventually. We need to find the dagger first. We will take it from Solas and give it to Emmrich. He’ll know how to use it to find Rook.” Next came the belts at his waist. Each was synched tightly and fastened methodically to ensure they were secured properly.

After he tucked the tails of the belts into themselves, Lucanis began slipping his knives into their usual holsters. Some were more obvious than others in their location. The ones strapped to the insides of his boots came first, the metal sliding easily against the leather, and the ones on his waist came next. He has spent the first days of Rooks absence sharpening his knifes to pristine points and edges, probably sharper than he’d ever gotten them, but still he checked each dagger before sliding them into pace. They had to be sharp and deadly, ready for battle and ready to save Rook. He could not allow himself to fail on something so precious. Lucanis clicked full vials of poison into the slots on his chest before securing the final knife to his chest.

And then. We kill? Spite asked as Lucanis secured his cape along his shoulder, the material almost kissing the ground as he swayed with his movements.

“Yes.” Lucanis said as he made eye contact with Spite, slipping on his gloves in the process, “Then we kill.”

We have a. Contract! Very good. The wicked smile returned to Spite’s lips and, for the first time since Rook slipped into the Fade, Lucanis allowed himself one as well.

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #lucanis/rook #f!rook #rookanis #rook is in fade jail #I have so many wips but I have so little time and energy #i can't promise when I'll get this chapter up because I can't meet a deadline to save my life but I promise I haven't forgotten about it!!#wip #wip wednesday #work in progress #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #da:v #fic: think nothing say nothing

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shadowjax · 10 months ago

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The Dragon’s Blade

Identity

A03

Natasha Romanoff x reader/oc

Chapter Summary: Now that it looks like you’ll be staying for a while, best to get your ID situated. Although you don’t have one to begin with.

Warnings: none

A/N: No I did not disappear pffffft.

Shares and reblogs are appreciated

The following morning, you met Maria to complete some paperwork and collect an ID badge for the building. Her office was quite simple, with a dim light shining from the shield logo on the wall.

“Since you technically don’t exist, creating an alias will be easy. Explaining to the government we retrieved you from a HYDRA base would raise some alarms. As far as they’re concerned you’re..?” She waved her wrist for you to answer, typing away at a computer on her desk. “Give me a name, don’t make me pick one.”

You remember becoming fascinated with a phoenix statue when you were first let out of the compound. Fènghuáng Ashryver Yùe, you wrote on a piece of paper in front of you. Code name- Dragon. Since there was no way to track how old you were due to the serum, Maria scrambled a random date and year to write for your birthday. She Snapped a quick photo and placed it on your badge. All the government knows is you went off the grid years ago.

“It's a shame you won’t let me take a picture without the mask.” You felt your eyes soften at her comment, knowing that if she saw you without it she’d most likely find you repulsing. "Welcome to the team, agent," Maria said with a wink as she handed you your badge before walking out of her office.

“Thank you, Commander.”

~~~~

"A strong name for a strong agent, I must say," Dr. Lee joked as she looked at your badge. It was reassuring to finally have some form of identity after having it taken away for so long, and a small smile appeared on your lips. "I’m curious—were you ever given a name before you became the top soldier?" You sat on a couch in Dr. Lee's office as she examined your new badge, your mask resting on the edge of her desk. You couldn’t help but notice how tidy her office was, far more organized than it had been during your last visit.

“Yes. I don’t remember anymore. We were their property. Identities were not important.”

You were not entirely sure why the two of you were aware of your names, it was just known in your brain since you could remember. Perhaps you had given it to one another or yourselves, that was the preferred answer. Leaving your name as the one thing that was yours while you were in that horrid place.

Mentioning this knowledge once had led to a severe beating, an early sign of deviation that explained the semi-failed experiment you were part of. Eventually, you managed to repress that knowledge once you became the top soldier. Finally repressing the knowledge once you become the top soldier, at least that’s what you had hoped they believed as well.

“I guess they really drilled that into you once your training began and you were assigned missions.” Dr.Lee took another glance at the badge before handing it off to you. “Ashryver? From the Throne of Glass series? I like it. By the way, my English name is Lysandra.”

Unable to practice sign language while your knuckles were healing she gave you books to read to keep you occupied. “English name?”

“It’s much easier to pronounce, plus sounds cooler than my Chinese name. You know Maria seems to have taken an interest in you, hope you aren’t trying to steal her away or I’ll have to make you disappear.” Your smile dropped and your blood ran cold. You held your hands up in the air and she began to laugh. “I’m kidding, but she’s right, you do have a cute smile. Besides, I know you have a thing for Romanoff.”

You looked at her confused, your breathing froze for a moment. There was an odd tightening in your chest, something to figure out later. “I beg your pardon?”

“Sitting next to her during movie nights, the training sessions and your face just confirms everything. It’s cute seeing you finally found a teammate to warm up to.” She kicked off her shoes and began to eat a bowl of ramen so fast it was like she hadn’t eaten in days.

“So you and Maria…are close?” She started to choke for a moment, and after slamming her fist into her chest her breathing returned to normal.

“Of course. I mean, we’ve been working for the same agency for quite some time now. I was once a field medic, I wouldn’t have made it so far without her or Cho.” Lysandra scoffs for a moment and leans back in her chair. Tossing her glasses on the desk and folding her arms. “Having a support system when life throws curveballs makes them easier to overcome. I’m glad you found someone who can relate to your situation, and give you a better understanding of how to adjust with the rest of society. Forming different types of relationships is normal and balancing them out with your own is better than being alone.” She plopped a few books on the different relationships that exist to help you understand better.

“We’re both spies, observant, it’s instinct.” Wanda has finally stopped trying to tap into your mind whenever you enter the room. You didn’t mind when either one lowered their guard around you and treated you like a person. “I don’t mind her presence.” The need to be close to someone left a painful sore on the sides of your lips.

~~~~

"Don’t you think you’re getting a bit too close to this patient? You usually go to great lengths to connect, but I’ve never seen you push it this far." Maria entered Lysandra’s office, in the middle of getting ready to head to her room.

“Before I came here, I was arranged to be married to a man I did not know. My family was terribly old-fashioned. I had no particular talent in anything nor did I excel in school. So instead of becoming a stay-at-home mom I fled on the first boat out. Thankfully SHIELD needed combat nurses at a desperate level. I’m grateful that a commanding officer saw my desperation for a job, saw my inexperience, and pulled me out of there before I was blown to smithereens.” Their eyes met from across the room, and Lysandra’s knees melted like usual whenever staring into Maria’s. “I got a second chance, and so do they.”

“You were terrible out on the field.” Breaking the silence the two of you laughed at the memory.

“I’m not THAT bad anymore, at least now I know how to fire a gun.” She had a big smile on her face. Coat and bag in hand she held the door open.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

~~~~

You entered the lounge, just in time for “movie night”. Expecting to find Natasha and Wanda in their usual places you came to find the couch empty.

“Friday?” You raised, looking around the room seeing no sign of anyone being in the room for quite some time.

“Yes Agent…?” The robotic voice chimes from the speakers in the room.

“Where is everyone?” You signed hoping it would be picked up by the cameras.

“Agent Romanoff and Maximoff left on a mission 2 hours ago.”

“Thank you.” Now that you think about it, the place was a bit emptier than usual. An odd feeling surfaced, not knowing what to do. You’ve followed patterns all your life. To be on your own with free will wasn’t something you were familiar with at all.

You heard the doc and Commander laughing in the hall, you slipped into an empty room to avoid drawing attention. Once they passed by you went straight toward your cell, and that odd pinching feeling in your chest began to surface. A familiar emptiness begins to spread throughout your body.

#natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you

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the-vegetarian-artist · 1 year ago

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Asking you about your ska troll concept! They look so cool and I would love to learn more about them

@shadow-ray4 thank you for asking, genuinely was positive that no one would ask 😅😣 but I am HAPPY to share! To start here are the full refs I've done so far and explain as much of the concept as I've developed in my brain lmaooo (ALL MAJOR DEETS undercut cause its gonna be LONG)

@goldendaydna also helped with this and lowkey a concept we are semi working out since her sona Golden Tempo is an Urbano Troll (a recently named concept lol)

Ska Trolls are Big, Bright, and BOLD. Together, these elements create an energetic, highly danceable, highly vibe-able troll genre. They also explode into confetti and confections when excited or surprised. Dont worry they pop back up as if nothing even happened leaving a pile of candy and crepe paper on the ground. (Ska trolls are super popular with the kids.) They practically live for the music, known for dancing for several days straight with hardly a rhyme or reason to stop.

*Like even the smallest of surprises just make em POP! (Bonus Branch doodle cause why not??)

Adara, my sona, is a 4th Generation Ska Troll (her father being a 3rd Gen while her mama is a punk rock troll) so TECHNICALLY shes Ska-punk, but she still has the appearance of your standard Ska Troll so it's more a music specific.

Her great great grandparents being a reggae leaning funk troll and a rocksteady leaning funk troll who formed The Underground after being seemingly left behind along with other alt/subgenres of the main 6 kingdoms when they split. A place for alternative trolls like herself and her friends could live and PARTY HARD without micro judgments against their music. It's a haven for other trolls who feel they dont quite fit a specific genre or even one at all, but also HELLA secluded from the rest of the Trolls so they look different and SOUND different. (Cave acoustics and all) The surface likely gets trimmers and even earthquakes from their raging parties. (I'm still fleshing this out but I have this piece of "concept art")

*Its literally a bioluminescent shroom town. Like glowing mushroom homes, food, ect- glow worms on the cave ceiling like stars in a night sky. All the various alternative genre of trolls have like a glowy eye thing that allows them to just see naturally in the dark too-

*these were some posters I took heavy color influence from for Adara's pallet (I know they arent all ska, but punk, reggae, and rocksteady aesthetics were an addition)

Obviously I took most inspo from pinatas, party/confetti poppers, and the sorts mainly because the funk trolls poop...well. baked goods and I wanted to play off that but lean into the crazy evolution the trolls have canonically in the universe that foam at the mouth for 👀 🤲 But I wanted to make sure her colors and patterns gave off not just Funk influence, but also micro subculture influences that are within The Underground. (This including but not not limited to, how closely Ska Trolls were to the Urbano Trolls communities within The Underground)

*Exchanged tassels and stringy fur textures for more paper textures. Like literally walking, talking, breathing pinatas fr

*Queen Essence I love yuuuu

They are bigger than the average Funk troll and have very similar features to them, but texture and color wise are very different. They much more vibrant and staturated. Giving a mix of felt and crepe paper. They have tails as sortve as an evolutionary trait but also it gives maximum party mode as it can hold objects and act as an extra hand. Their ears are also longer and slimmer, making it harder for them to lift or perk up so they stay droopy unlike their funk counterparts. They are all naturals at brass instruments (mainly trumpet) and ALWAYS have a hop in their step.

*edit if the pics keep messing up... imma have to just remake the post 😭

#dreamworks trolls #trolls fan concept #trolls #trolls world tour #funk trolls #ska troll concept #trolls branch #trollsona #trolls oc #trolls ocs #fan concept #veggie tells #my art #art #veggie art #veggie arts #my ocs #my oc art #my oc stuff

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antrylis · 1 year ago

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✨Tragon !✨

Trans...dragon..It's funny, right ?- Also, I know it's a wyvern...Dragon sounds better...

It's pride month, so it was the perfect occasion to finally make a dragon, yay ! It's also my first time making something akin to a dragon (technically the second time,, but the first one is truly horrible), and even if the proportion are still a bit out of place, it could have been worse. It's also my first time doing custom wings, but I'll talk about that in more details beneath :}

Also, it needs a name ! I’m really bad with names, but I would gladly take suggestions ! (And here is an alt picture, in its natural habitat-)

Anyways, details/closeups under the cut !

None of these picture below are edited, because it's exam period- Enjoy the green backgrounds :}

I have to say, before any other comment, that I made the body way to heavy for the two poor sockets of the legs. The position above is the only one where it's actually standing upright. Also, my stock of pink and rightly-shaded blue was much smaller than originally anticipated, so I would have done a bunch of tings differently, if it wasn't for that. Still, I was lucky to have that many curved blue pieces for the top part. Well, all of the ones with purple diamonds on them have been forcefully taken from a small Elves dragon, but it was worth it (I also really enjoy the purple here, it contrasts nicely).

All of the joints are mixel socket joints, except for the knees, which are just hinges. It gives a lot of movements, from the tail to the jaw. Even if these are limited, it gives it a wide range of positions (even if, realistically, it won’t change it much from the one I gave it). Still, it can sit ! (Including small trans flag)

The pointy scales on the back are some of the only elements which aren’t directly attacked to the body : one 2*2 plate holds them down, and a modified 2*1 under the plates keeps it from sliding in any other direction, so even with little connections, it doesn’t budge. I really liked these angular pieces. To keep them from being too repetitive, they are only connected to each other by one stud, with a small angle, which gives them a slightly "round" effect.

The tail here is not really complicated, it's just a bunch of socket joints linked together with curved tiles on top (one of the sticker is backward, and it's unnerving, but it's not my fault and I can't risk changing it...), with white arch pieces underneath. Not sure of why I added these in the first place, but it looks cool. And of course, the end of the tail is a big heart, because it simply fits the vibe, doesn't it?

Of course, I can't forget what is the most important, and what makes this creature as cute as it is ! (It is cute, and if that is the hill I have to die on, I will.)

The green background doesn't show it well, but the flame offers a good contrats with the rest of the head, and brings the eyes there first (instead of all the mistakes present). Because there are a bunch of these.

I spent nearly as long on the head as all the other body parts cumulated (except for the wings), because making something detailed yet small enough to be a good head is tough. I actually started from the top (for the piece with the sticker, more exactly), instead of the bottom, like I usually do, in order to get an idea of scale (because I already knew I wanted the jaw to move, and for that I needed to see how big it would be). Then, I did the back to quickly have a neck connection point, to see if it would fit. Because the neck is larger under the connection sockets, the socket of the head is actually pretty high up, but the colours are practically aligned so it works well.

Then, the next thing was the eyes and the spikes. The spikes took me a hile to figure out, because without the rest of the head, they looked kinda dumb, but it does bring the head together when everything is in place. Then the eyes : on the small dragon I took apart, there were these blue tooth pieces which I used to get some texture above them, so that they don't look flat, and then, I connected them to the center connectors of a 2*4 plates. That works well in placement, but I ran into the issue of what would be around. If I didn't do anything, there would be two gaps, which would look terrible. Instead, I stuck two 1*4 tiles in these gaps, and since the tooth pieces are around either side, they don't move - well, not much, they still produce a shaking sound when I'm moving the head.

Then under these plates, I directly have 1*4 pink bricks, which stick out behind the head. At first, it was a problem, and I had nothing else to replace them; but they actually restrict and hold the neck, so that even if the head is technically a bit too heavy, it remains in place.

The actual teeth are modified 2*1 plates, four at the top and four at the bottom. To keep them with such a small gap (and to attach them to either sides of the jaw) I have use modified 1*1 plates with a ring. There is a single one at the bottom, and then underneath a few cut 2*1 and 2*2 curved tiles to make the jaw triangular; and two on top, one which connects it to the head and one with holds the snout (which is using a cheese piece and another one of the blue tooth).

So, custom wings ! It isn't actually complicated, if only a bit tedious. Here below is all that I needed to make them :

As you can see, it's not much. Most important, of course, is a good, solid sheet of paper, and a cutter (precision cutter is better, in my opinion, but anything works). To make things easy (or if, like me, you don't know how to draw properly), you can take a basic lego wing, and trace the outline and where the holes go. I would advise only doing a single, blank one, at first. Once you have your proto-wing, you can start to make the actual frame it will be attached on. I chose to use bricks above it to act as claws, but you can use socket joints, like in most sets. The advantage of using plates is that the overall look is better, but if you want overhangs like I did, you have to get the holes really close to the edge of the wing.

Once you have your frame, trace where the holes would go on it ! (if you used a wing model, it might be easier, but it could also not fit, which is why you make a prototype first). To make holes just the right size, I would advise first cutting squares (easier than circles) at just the right size, then scratching the edges with the blade of the cutter. Once it looks good, try to fit an axle inside. If it just about fits, and can rotate, it's good ! Otherwise, just remove it and scratch again.

When that's done, test if it can correctly fit on your frame. Once that's done, you can either make two wings with that pattern, or simply make another copy. I personally made two new from my first prototype because it took me a while to figure out exactly how to place the holes.

Finally, once you got two wings, you can finally add whatever you want on them (easier when they're not actually on the frame, although that should've been obvious), and you're done :}

I went for a really basic thing, but technically, any shape is possible. I'll likely use it again someday, because it's quite fun !

And of course, the bonus picture, since you’re here ! I like the symbolic of this (also don’t pay attention to the tentacles).

I actually really wanted to get rid of this castle (which was gifted, not exactly desired, although I must admit it’s really well designed), and well. Now, it’s gone, and in its place lies the dragon…and my horrendous crab, too.

#lego #lego moc #trans #transgender #pride dragon #lego dragon

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