#dixie x reader

•••

Over the next few months, you and Dixie get to spend more time together than you ever had while she and Elvis were dating. Dixie has sworn off boys for the moment, claiming that she doesn’t want to risk another “Elvis situation” happening, which you absolutely understand. You thought the two of them were going to be together forever, but for him to just drop her like that? She deserved better.

I’d treat her better.

You’re mindlessly doing chores when the thought pops into your head unprompted, and you shake yourself. What? No, Dixie’s your best friend, and that’s it. You’re just being a good friend and helping her recover from her breakup. Sure, you’ll sometimes feel a spark if your hands brush while walking, or you’ll catch yourself staring at her lips as she talks and have to force yourself to focus on what she’s saying and not where the words are coming from, or you’ll get something akin to butterflies when she turns that sunshine-bright smile towards you, or—

Oh.

You freeze in the middle of folding your laundry and collapse to sit on the edge of your bed as the realization hits you.

You’re in love with your best friend Dixie Locke.

This realization is quickly followed by another one: you can’t ever tell her.

There was absolutely no way she’d ever feel the same, and even if you know she’d reject you in the sweetest way possible, you don’t want to ruin your friendship by telling her. Admitting your feelings would change your relationship in a way that couldn’t ever be undone, if she even wanted to stay friends, and you know you won’t be able to handle that after 10 years of being her best friend.

The only solution you can think of is simply… hiding your feelings. Pushing them down until they disappear. Because they have to at some point, right?

•••

Wrong, you decide when Dixie asks you to come dress shopping with her after a month of you pushing down your newfound feelings with no sign of them fading. So very, very wrong.

You feel like your heart’s going to burst every time Dixie steps out of the dressing room to ask your opinion on a dress. How did you ever survive seeing her like this? Her sunshine bright smile, the little giggles of glee as she steps out in a new dress…

“What do you think?” Dixie asks as she steps out in a soft blue dress patterned with daisies. She twirls her way to the mirror as you take her in and try to remember what words are.

“That color is perfect,” you settle on as you stand behind her, taking in her reflection. You can’t resist adding on a quiet “you look gorgeous,” and it’s absolutely worth it when her sparkling brown eyes meet yours in the mirror as her face lights up with a smile. You return the smile, your gaze flicking down to her lips for a split second before you remember yourself and step back.

Dixie’s smile fades slightly at the distance you put between the two of you, but she recovers quickly. “So, this is the one?” she asks brightly, fiddling with one of the embroidered daisies.

“Well, if it were up to me I’d say buy all of them,” you tease, the butterflies in your stomach going haywire as she giggles. “But if we have to choose one… yes, I really like that one.”

“This one it is!” she chirps, giving one final twirl before slipping back into the dressing room.

“Now it’s your turn,” she announces brightly as she steps out of the dressing room one final time.

You blink, baffled, “My turn? Dixie I already told you, I don’t need any new dress—”

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand, “Oh hush, you don’t have to buy one, I promise. But trying them on is half the fun! I saw a few that I really think you’ll love.” She punctuates her last statement with a slight tilt of her head, looking up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes that she knows you can’t resist. Minx.

“Fine,” you relent with a groan, and Dixie squeals with delight, shoving you into the dressing room before rushing off to find her selections for you.

•••

“Y/N, come on, I wanna see!” Dixie calls from outside the dressing room.

You sigh, smoothing down the skirt once more, and finally step out to where Dixie’s waiting. “This dress is gorgeous, Dixie, but I really don’t think—”You're cut off at the sight of Dixie staring at you, her jaw dropped.

“What?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious. Did it not fit right? Dixie had made sure to pick one out in your favorite color, but was it not looking right on you?

“Uh… nothing, I just…” she seems to shake herself out of… whatever odd mood she’s in and continues, “You look gorgeous, that dress is absolutely perfect.”

Her voice is softer, more… sincere, for lack of a better term, than her usual bright chirps, and it sends warmth flooding through your body right down to your toes.

“You really think so?” You ask, turning to look at yourself in the mirror and praying she doesn’t notice the blush flooding your face.

“Absolutely,” she beams, meeting your eyes in the mirror as she comes up behind you, “You should get it.”

“Dixie,” the rosy spell her compliment has on you is broken as you turn to face her and say, “Even if I did get it, where would I wear it? You know I hardly ever go out.”

Dixie thinks for a moment. “Well, we haven’t had a real girl’s day in a bit. We could go out in our new dresses, get breakfast, lunch, just make a day of it.” she suggests, and you can’t resist the sparkle in her eyes at the idea. You nod, your smile widening, and she lets out another squeal of delight.

•••

The next Saturday, you step outside to meet Dixie with a smile and a paper bag in hand.

“Ready to go?” She asks, grinning.

“Of course!” you reply, “Mama didn’t want us spending money on both breakfast and lunch so she packed us a couple doughnuts,” you gesture to the paper bag, “and I have money for coffee from the diner if you want.”

“That sounds perfect,” Dixie beams

You and Dixie spend the morning walking around Tom Lee Park. Your heart swells every time Dixie points out a cloud or stops to say hello to a bird, and you pray she doesn’t notice how much you’re staring at her as the sunlight shines in a halo around her head.

After you’ve exhausted yourselves at the park, the two of you make your way to the Arcade restaurant. You avoid mentioning that this is Elvis’s favorite restaurant, as Dixie surely knows, and instead silently pray that Elvis decides not to come here today. The last thing either of you— especially Dixie— need today is Elvis showing up to ruin your perfectly nice day.

Your prayers unfortunately go unanswered as, shortly after your food is delivered to the little booth you and Dixie are sharing, the bell at the door rings signaling the arrival of another customer. Both you and Dixie turn at the sound, and your blood boils at the sight of the boy who broke Dixie’s heart entering the restaurant. You turn back to Dixie with a gentle nod and say softly, “Just ignore him.”

This plan works… until it doesn’t, as Elvis makes a beeline towards where you and Dixie are sitting at the back of the diner.

You straighten up, making no attempt to hide your frown as he approaches the table. “Elvis,” you greet, deadpan, once it’s clear that you can’t exactly ignore him standing right next to you.

“Uh, hey Y/N, Dixie,” he says with a nervous nod at both of you.

“What do you want, Elvis?” Dixie asks softly, refusing to even look up from the basket of fries the two of you were sharing.

“Look, Dixie, uh… can we talk?” His eyes flick over to you for a split second before he adds, “Alone?”

Dixie is silent for a bit, weighing her options. Eventually, she sighs, “Fine.”

You push down your apprehension and give her an encouraging nod as she slides out of the booth and follows Elvis over to a quiet corner of the diner. Your eyes are subtly locked on Elvis as they enter what looks like a fairly heated discussion, and your fingers clench around the fabric of your skirt. If he does anything to hurt your gi— friend. Your friend. — you’re not above making good on your promise to punch him.

“Dixie— Dixie, wait, come on!” you hear Elvis call, and you glance up from your milkshake to see Dixie storming out of the diner. What did he do now? You shoot him a fierce glare before rushing off after Dixie.

•••

Your concern for Dixie dips into icy terror as you step outside and there’s no sign of her anywhere. Your heart stutters in your chest as you frantically look around for any sign of the sky blue dress or a familiar flash of chocolate brown hair. After several moments of frantic searching, you follow the sound of someone sobbing down an alley next to the diner, where you find Dixie perched on an old crate, angrily wiping away tears.

“There you are!” You cry, relief flooding your chest before you realize the state she’s in. “Dix? What’s wrong? Did something happen, are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, waving off your catastrophizing. “No, nothing like that, I promise. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… him.”

Her usually warm, comforting voice turns icy as she all but spits the last word.

“Woah, okay,” you sit next to her, taking her hand in yours, “what happened?”

“He…” she works to compose herself for a moment, then continues “He apologized, said he was awful for doing that to me, but he—” she gives a dry, humorless laugh, “He wants to get back together.”

“And… what do you want?” you say cautiously, trying to rein in your shock.

She shakes her head, “I don’t know! I… I hate him, for what he did, but at the same time I missed him so much, but I think I might have feelings for someone else and—” Her hand is pulled from your grasp as she claps it over her mouth, her wide eyes an indication that she definitely didn’t mean to tell you that.

“Wait, what?” You stare at her, trying and failing to hide the shock and hurt on your face. Dixie liked someone and she didn’t tell you? “Who?”

She shakes her head, dropping her hand to rest at her side, her fingers just brushing yours. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? Dix, come on, you’re my best friend, you know you can talk to me about this.” You take her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t, though,” she says softly, removing her hand from your grasp as she stands up and turns away from you, her eyes locked on the dirty concrete beneath her.

You’re about to ask again, plead with her to just talk to you— you’ve never kept secrets from each other, not once in your 10 years of friendship— when she takes a breath, as if she’s steeling herself for something, and says, so softly you almost don’t hear her, “I can’t tell you because… because it’s you.”

It’s you. It’s you. It’s you.

Her words ring in your ears as you try to process what she just said.

“It’s… what?”

“The person I like is… you.” She reluctantly meets your eyes, “I just… I know that you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to like you like that—”

“Dixie—” you stand, trying to interject, but she continues rambling.

“But I’ve loved spending time with you these past few months! And I realized… I don’t wanna stop spending time with you, I mean you’re just wonderful, and I completely understand if you wanna stop being friends now—”

“Dixie!” You interject again, grasping her hands and forcing her attention onto you. She blinks out of her anxious rambling and—

Time freezes. Her anxiety-filled brown eyes meet yours, and every word you were planning to say— assurance that you feel the same, a confession of how long you’ve been pining for her— vanishes from your brain. Acting on pure instinct, you do something you’ve been longing to do all day: you lean in and crash your lips onto hers.

Your hands come up to cup her face as your lips move in sync, and you swallow a gasp as her hands come to rest gently, tentatively at your waist.

Once the need for air gets the better of you, you reluctantly pull away, praying you didn’t just ruin everything. Your eyes flutter open to find Dixie staring at you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

“Oh.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, um. I… I like you, too. In case it wasn’t clear.”

Dixie is still staring at you in disbelief as she processes what just happened. “I— I never thought—” she eventually composes herself, asking tentatively, “When did you…?” She trails off, her nervous eyes meeting yours once again, and you know what she’s asking.

“I figured it out a little over a month ago,” you admit with a soft laugh, “I thought I could just… ignore it, that what I felt for you would go away in time, but…” you meet her eyes with a tender smile, “That’s not quite what happened.”

“Well,” she begins shyly; she leans in and lets her lips just barely brush against yours before leaning back to say softly. “I’m glad that’s not what happened.”

Beaming, you pull her in for another kiss; not a frantic, impulsive crashing of lips together like your first one had been, no. This was a delicate, deliberate, toe-curling brush of your lips on hers, one hand gently cupping her cheek as if it were made of porcelain as her arms twined around your neck, pulling you closer as your other arm wrapped around her waist.

She pulls away with a soft giggle, remaining close enough that her nose still brushes yours as she says, her wide brown eyes sparkling up at you, “We, um… we should probably get back inside.”

You nod in agreement, and the two of you duck back into the diner, your hands clasped as you return to your seats.

•••

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Elvis at a nearby table with his bandmates, staring at yours and Dixie’s joined hands. You turn towards him, expecting something akin to a jealous glare, but instead are surprised to see nothing but an understanding smile on his face. He meets your eyes and, after giving you a respectful nod, returns to his conversation with Bill and Scotty.

Your attention returns to Dixie as she squeezes your hand, and doesn’t leave until you return home that evening. You turn to her as you approach your house, suddenly unsure of how to bid your… friend? girlfriend? what were the two of you now? farewell.

Dixie, normally so shy and reserved, surprises you by quickly pressing her lips to your cheek.

“I’ll be looking forward to our next date,” she says with a grin before leaving with a simple wave goodbye, leaving you standing on your porch with a stunned smile.

Next date, huh? you think to yourself as you step inside. There was that one bookstore you’d been wanting to show her…