#because he is undeniably physically stunning

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield on CBS Sunday Morning

#this interview was good if you watch it - the part where he talks about his mom is so poignant #andrew garfield #my gifs #and they're interviewing in the theatre where Rent debuted #so there's a lot of meaning there #there are some funny moments in it too #I just love this kind of video #where he is most himself #his roles are very compelling but I'm most interested in the person behind them #seeing these glimpses warms my mushy little heart #because he is undeniably physically stunning #but he's so sweet and thoughtful and smart and in touch with his emotions #and that's what really compels me about him #it's no one things it's all of them together #and I think seeing a glimpse of that in No Way Home is what made me like him so #let me love him please #also 12/10 would touch his hair here #gooooooood

[threadbaresweater]

intoxicating | nanami kento

He's not the type of guy who picks up strange women at the bar. He's not really even the type of guy who goes to bars in the first place, but when his friends drag him along for a night out, he's glad he accepted their invitation- especially when he sees you.

Tags: f!reader, alcohol use for both nanami and reader, hooking up, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving); 2.8k words. a repost from an old blog. divider by @/saradika

Nanami is quiet most of the time. It's nothing new, really. He's rarely talkative or loud, and anyone can tell that each word he speaks, he chooses carefully. Not because it's hard for him to voice his thoughts, but because he believes there's no need to waste anything. Time, money, emotions, food– everything has a purpose, a use. Even people. He's no-nonsense with it all.

Until he meets you.

He doesn't quite understand the pull you have, the way you made him suddenly stutter and forget how to use his tongue. And his brain. It infuriates him, if he's being totally honest, and he doesn't quite know what to do with the sound of your voice in such close proximity. He watches the shape of your mouth as you smile and laugh across the restaurant, deep in some titillating conversation with your girlfriends at the bar. Under the soft, yellow glow of the lights strung across the ceiling, you look like some kind of angel, and he finds that right there and then, he has to know you. 

"...what do you think, Kento?" His companion smirks, cocky and totally aware that he isn't paying the least bit of mind to the conversation at their table. "Pretty crazy, right?"

Nanami nods absently, loosening his tie because he suddenly feels like he's suffocating. The room is too hot, the conversation too loud, the wine has gone to his head. 

“Which one?” Gojo asks, following Nanami’s line of sight to where you sit, leaning against your best friend, laughing loudly at something the bartender said. His eyes flit to Nanami’s, then back to you. “Ahhh, she’s a cutie. Well don’t be weird– go say hi!” he says with a swift clap to Nanami’s back. 

Nanami clears his throat and reaches for his wine. “No,” he counters, though it’s all he can do to keep himself in his chair at this point. Your laughter rings out again, and he shifts his posture. It’s intoxicating. 

“If you don’t, I will!” Gojo says, and the others in his party roll their eyes and laugh lightly. He talks a big game, but he’ll respect his friends. Most of the time.

Nanami pushes his chair away from the table and claims a need to use the restroom, but his companions know he’s lying. Of course, he does head that way first. To piss, to wash his hands, to straighten his tie and scrub his face. He grips the counter and leans toward the mirror. Get a hold of yourself, he thinks, then takes a deep breath and tries to be as casual as possible as he reenters the restaurant, taking a detour to where you sit. Conveniently, there’s a space beside where you and your friends have gathered, and he leans his side against the bar, flagging down the bartender to order something stronger. Gentleman’s Jack. Neat. His back is to you, but he smells your perfume and his head spins again. The bartender brings his drink and Nanami tells him to keep the change as he slides a bill across the counter. He notices your conversation has taken on a hushed tone, and one of your friends tells you not-so-subtly to turn around. 

He stands and takes a step back, turning slightly toward you, drink in hand. Up close, you’re even more stunning. Your eyes are a little glassy from the drinks you’ve had and your smile is syrupy and easy, but he’s certain he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire life. He almost hates himself for it– he’s not a man who gets hung up on physical appearances, but there’s something undeniably magnetic about you. 

You look at the crystal tumbler in his hand and giggle, lifting your own drink in a mock toast. “You’re a whiskey man, huh? It suits you.” You wink, and his breath hitches in his throat. 

“I’m spending the evening with an insufferable friend. I needed something strong to cope.” It’s the most he’s spoken all evening, but he’s not going to admit that to you.

It makes you laugh. “I like your honesty,” you say, tipping your glass against his before chugging what’s left. He watches your limp wrist push it back across the bar. 

“Need another?” he offers, raising a hand to flag down the bartender again.

You scoff, but your smile says otherwise. “Are you trying to get me drunk, misterrrr…”

“Nanami. Kento. And no. I think you’re doing a good job of that yourself,” he says. It’s quick and pointed, and your friends have suddenly become very interested in each other’s shoes. 

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you.” You tell him your name, then prop your elbow on the bar, leaning into the palm of your hand as you look up at him. “I’d love another drink, thanks.”

From across the room, Gojo flips Nanami the bird and sticks out his tongue.

“I’ve never seen you here before, Mr. Nanami. Kento.” You giggle and cross your legs, sitting up a little straighter when your drink is delivered. “Are you from around here?”

He nods and sits on the stool next to yours; one whiff of his cologne, and you’re glad you’re sitting down, too. “I don’t get out much these days.”

“A homebody. I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t see the use in going out and spending money when there’s food in the fridge, aren’t you?” Your tongue is loose, and you’re just spouting now, making any kind of conversation with this attractive stranger just to keep his interest. There’s a fleeting little pinprick of worry that you’re being obnoxious, but by the way he’s looking at you, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“An astute observation. What else do you know about me?” he says, a gentle smirk blooming on his lips.

Feigning deep thought, you press a finger to your lips and narrow your eyes. “Hmm…you’re also not the type to pick up pretty girls at bars you never go to, right?”

He stares at you for a moment, then nods, taking a long swig of his whiskey. “Right again.”

“I like this game,” you say, wiggling a little on your stool, a giddy, drunken giggle bubbling up from your chest. One of your friends tickles your back a little– a question, a need for reassurance that you’re alright. You reach behind and squeeze her fingers, pulsing twice. I’m fine, you say without speaking. She squeezes back and releases, nodding to your other friend with a smile and a wink. “Tell me something about myself.”

Nanami watches the exchange, glad that you have friends who are concerned for your safety. He likes that you have a language of your own that doesn’t require words. There are many other ways to communicate, and he appreciates the quiet ones most of all. “You’re careful– maybe too careful sometimes. You drink to take the edge off. Sometimes you take yourself too seriously.” His brown eyes meet your own, and he smirks. “How did I do?”

Slack jawed, you stare at him. You hold his gaze while you take a drink, then wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. It smears your lipstick, and he reaches over, thumbing it off your cheek. At first, you flinch, but you watch him carefully. “Good,” you say. There isn’t much else you need to say.

At least not with your words.

He doesn't make a habit of picking up women in bars. He is, however, the type of man that once he has his sights set on something, he doesn't give up easily. Thankfully, you've cut to the chase and shown him just how much you like him, which makes him feel a little less guilty for walking you back to his place.

"Are you sure-" he begins, and you cut him off with a firm press of your lips to his, all drunken courage and playful tongue, your hands already slipping under the soft cotton of his button down shirt. There's a cool brick wall at his back, and it makes for delicious contrast to your warm hands. 

Seems you're pretty sure. This, too, makes his guilt a little less heavy. He slides his arms around your waist, broad, strong hands fanning out across your lower back as he bends you back a little your way, deepening the kiss. You squeal onto his tongue and nibble his lower lip. This is reckless for you, too, but your friends wouldn't have let you go if they didn't trust him.

"He's gorgeous."

"So what if he's gorgeous, is he sane?"

"I think he's alright. I didn't get any weird vibes."

"Expensive suit! And he's really well spoken."

"Big hands…"

"Yeah. Wonder what he could do with those."

"My apartment is up ahead," he says, all grit and anticipation. The sounds of traffic blend in with your ragged breathing. The street lamp overhead buzzes and blinks, and the rowdy sounds of other bar goers add to the overall chaos of this entire situation. You're not in your right mind, but nothing has ever felt so right in your entire life. Nanami takes your hand and walks with you. Calm, cool, seemingly collected, while a stormy desire builds inside.

Up six steps, a key in the lock, a slam of the door, and he's got pinned against the door, legs wrapped around his waist, one of your heels dangling from your foot. He takes you apart with his mouth; every inch of skin he's able to reach is covered in ravenous kisses. Fleetingly you think he wants to eat you– quite literally consume you from the outside in. There isn't much left for you to do except hang on for the ride, and you can already tell by the way he's acting that it's going to be a wild one. 

"Hang on tight," he says, gripping the underside of your thighs to carry you off to his bedroom. You take the opportunity to give him a little gift on his neck to remember you by. His hiss when you bite down is delightfully satisfying, and he responds by gripping the meat of your thigh a little harder.

His bedroom is minimalistic. You really hadn't paid much attention to the main living area, but now that you're sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him shrug out of his expensive suit jacket, you notice that he has great taste. Clean lines, warm lighting, solid colors. There's a single leopard print pillow on the bed, and you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“It matches your tie,” you giggle as you lean back and toss the pillow at him from where he stands at the foot of the bed. If he’s trying to look intimidating, he’s doing a piss poor job. He catches the pillow and studies it with care, an amused grin curling on his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Everybody needs a little pizzazz their life, wouldn’t you agree?”

When he drops the pillow and crawls over you, you don’t see it coming. You were about to say something witty in return, but it’s lost when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and rolls his abdomen down on you; God, his body is warm and firm and you want to just sink your teeth in and get a taste, but it seems Mr. Nanami has other plans. 

He takes his time peeling off your dress, your bra, the pretty silk panties you’d picked out. He saves your thigh highs for last, rolling them down your legs and following the exposed skin every inch of the way with his mouth. He lifts your ankle with delicate care and looks you straight in the eye before kissing his way back up your leg. 

“You’re a work of art,” he murmurs, and you know he means it. And when he lifts just behind your knees to rest your legs on his shoulders and push his mouth against your pussy, you’re certain that he’ll make you feel like one, too. 

He takes his time, this mysterious not-quite-stranger, making sure to spend extra time on the places that have you fisting his bedsheets in your hands, crying out his name amid a string of sacreligious curses. He follows every dip and buck of your hips, remaining buried in your slick until you’re crying for mercy; one orgasm, then another in quick succession. 

“Had enough?” he chuckles. When he presses a curious thumb against your clit, you jolt and shake and push his head away with your foot. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You need him on you, over you, inside you so badly your body aches. He’s quick to oblige before you can even get the words out, dominating your space and your thoughts by claiming your mouth in another mind-numbing kiss. This one tastes like you– warm and slick, but his hand is on your cheek and it’s so intimate it brings tears to your eyes. His cock rubbing against your leg feels huge, and when you reach down to stroke him, you’re pleasantly surprised when your hand barely spans the girth. 

“Is that enough for you, gorgeous?” 

A choked laugh is your reply, along with a tilt of your hips and a swipe of your tongue up and over his prominent Adam’s apple. You find a word, too. Just one. “Plenty.”

He eases in, slowly, experimentally even. He’s watching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort, because he knows his size, and though he's never experienced it himself, he's been clawed at and cursed thoroughly by past lovers who pleaded with him to go easy. He's big, for sure. But you've never felt more full. It's heavy and velvety smooth and nestled perfectly inside you, and you're not sure you really ever want to be anywhere else that isn't here. 

"Ready?" He is, and he moves without waiting you to reply. Feeling you quiver around him makes him borderline angry. He needs to move, and he needs to move now. He needs the friction, the satisfaction of dragging himself along your insides, watching as he disappears again and again inside you, lost in the way your body seems to rise like gentle waves with each thrust. You wouldn't know it, of course, but he's one of the most stoic, put-together kind of guys you'd ever meet. Straight laced, no-nonsense, always poised and put together, but perpetually exhausted. World weary. The kind of guy you meet in a fancy bar and think: He just needs a good, hard fuck. 

Good thing you're here to help with that.

Nanami is intense, but he's focused on you as much as he's riding the high of his own pleasure. You're fine with a little vanilla missionary, but when he folds your legs up against your ribs and really starts to rut into you, that's when you really lose your mind. He does, too, and it's obvious in the way his balls are slamming against your ass and he grunts with each piston of his hips, his pretty blonde hair damp with sweat and beginning to stick to his forehead. 

He doesn't warn you when he comes, but you feel it in the way his cock twitches inside you, and you're gripping his forearms to stay grounded through your third orgasm of the night. There are stars on the ceiling for a few blissful seconds, then all you see is the top of his head when he collapses onto your breasts, breathing heavily, arms wrapped fully around your body like he's not about to let you go anytime soon.

For a little while, you just breathe. You smell him. You trace patterns along his skin and furrow your brow a little at each tiny (and not-so-tiny) scar. Part of you wants to ask him, but you're afraid he wouldn't tell you the full truth of it. So you vow that if you see him again after tonight, you'll ask. 

"What's the protocol here?" he asks, face buried in your neck.

"Hm? Protocol for what?"

"Do you spend the night, or do I send you away with cab fare?" He shifts so that you're able to breathe a little easier, but your laughter kind of throws a wrench in that. 

"Excuse me? Are you kidding me right now?"

His brown eyes widen, and he lifts your chin as he lies there, propped on an elbow, naked and relaxed. Now that you're not quite as drunk, you see him a little clearer. His body intimidates you; it's incredibly defined and toned. Nanami is long, lean, and beautiful. "I don't do this. In fact, I've never done anything like this. I'd like you to stay, but I don't want to force you."

You touch his cheek, scoot closer, and kiss his lips so softly that he thinks he imagines the whole thing. "I want to stay."

And you do. He drives you home in the morning (after he cooks you breakfast) and you exchange numbers. He promises to tell you about his scars, and you promise to tease him about cab fare.

#nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami x you #jjk x you

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 13 🩸🩸🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, physical/ verbal abuse, smut, sub/dom play, mentions of blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 13! Twists and turns are coming your way and hope you like this chapter. I loved writing this portion and hope you do too. I was so conflicted on how to end this part because I could have easily kept going! So prepare for the next chapter to answer some very important questions that have been weighing on reader's mind...

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here 🩸

I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!🖤

You manage to put on some pajamas and lay down for a bit, trying to subside the dizziness that’s in your head. You knew that none of this was going to be easy and you needed to show him patience. You were glad he opened up to you more, it showed he trusted you. The spinning head wasn’t going away and you stumble to the bar to get a bottle of water and drink as much as you can to help you get less inebriated. The need for sleep made you collapse back on the bed and close your eyes as soon as your head hit the pillow. With everything that’s been happening, you haven’t gotten the best sleep lately, and knew that wasn’t good for you. You had to take better care of yourself. You let yourself fall into a deep sleep and weren’t worried if you missed the after-party.

*

You can hear the suite getting filled with loud voices and you lazily stretch underneath the blankets. You’re slightly confused as to how you ended up underneath the blankets and all but you shouldn’t be surprised that it was probably Elvis who checked on you and did this. You wanted to get out there and mingle with the rest of the party. It was well after two a.m. and you got a really decent nap in. There wasn’t going to be anyone you knew at the party so that left you with having to be with Elvis most of the night. In all honesty, you liked it that way. At least you didn’t have to be on edge and just got to enjoy the night.

You put on another outfit that is very eye-catching with a lower cut halter neck dress that accentuates your body well and is a bit shorter than what you would normally wear. You liked how it made you feel though; powerful and sexy. You freshen up your makeup and put on some red lipstick. There was something about tonight that made you feel new and confident. Maybe it was because Elvis was actually trying and was listening to you for the first time since knowing him. You also make sure your hair falls on the left side of your neck, covering the bruise there. It wasn’t as noticeable today and thankfully it was disappearing but you still didn’t want any questioning eyes to see it. 

Putting on a pair of heels, you make your way out into the main area of the suite. Music fills the air and lively chat buzzes among the crowd. You feel dozens of eyes and you feel your cheeks redden. You make a beeline to the bar and get some more water. Trying to get through the bustling crowd, you find an easy path along the window and gaze out at the dazzling city beneath you.

The city was stunning, with thousands of lights shining in this otherwise dark lonesome desert. Every blinking light of a hotel’s marquee made your eyes grow in awe. You had never seen the city like this. You never had the luxury of staying in a hotel here in Vegas. You were only able to work in one and now things were different. Everything felt different. Your life because of Elvis was just like this view. Dazzling and star strikingly beautiful. Whatever it was, you felt like you may be able to handle this newfound world you have found yourself in and might be able to handle having Elvis in your life. It felt right to have him there with you and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your daydreaming gets interrupted when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It was Jerry again, cracking a smile at you before speaking. 

“He wants to see you,” he informs. 

“Mhmm, where is he?” 

“He’s by the front door, I’ll take you to him,” he says before turning to make his way through the crowd. 

You bump and push your way through the sea of people until you finally see him sitting in his normal chair looking breathtaking as usual. He looked like he just got out of the shower, his hair still slightly damp but brushed back to show his beautiful face. 

He once again wore black pants, a black button-up with white cherry blossoms running up it, and a silver belt with turquoise on it. He knew exactly how to dress to make himself look more attractive than humanly possible. You can’t take your eyes off of him, so in awe of his presence.

He stands up when he sees you, smiling at your new outfit. 

“Hi darlin’,” he coos. You blush at his words and look up into those soft eyes. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to not blush when he calls you a pet name. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

“How do you look even better than the last time I saw you?” He says cheekily. He steps closer, going to hug you but restrains himself and puts his arms back by his side. 

You smile at the small gesture of control and grab his arms and wrap them around your waist. You too wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the soft tresses at the base of his neck, and twist them around your finger. 

“You can hug me, it’s okay,” you tell him, watching his mouth form into a soft smile. 

He pulls you in closer, running his hands along your back. 

“Mmm, thank you. I needed this,” he whispers, placing a kiss on the top of your head and smoothing the back of your hair with his hand. 

“How did your shows go?” You ask looking up at him, still holding him against your chest.  

“They went well. The crowds were really loud tonight it was amazing,” he gushes. 

“That’s great honey. Any panties get thrown at you tonight?” You tease. 

He laughs at your silly question and shakes his head. “Yes, quite a few but you know I don’t care for that. If it was you throwing them at me, that would be a different story,” he quips, biting his lip as he looks over you. 

You can’t help but smile at his cheeky comment and place your finger on his lips. 

“You’re being bad. You said you’d be good,” you quip. 

“Hmm, what a terrible thing to make me promise. I guarantee you like me when I’m on my worst behavior too,” he smirks. 

“Occasionally…” you jest, pushing him away from your body. You can tell he doesn’t like that you pushed him away but tries to not make a fuss about it. 

“Sit down honey, please,” he gestures to the seat behind him. You gladly take a seat but don’t sit all the way back in the chair, looking up at Elvis as you cross your legs. You watch as his eyes gravitate toward your exposed legs with the dress cinched up when you sat down. You attempt to pull down the dress to cover a bit of your thighs and he looks at you amused. 

“What are you looking at?” You ask mischievously. 

“Nothing,” he smiles. 

“What are you thinking about then?” You prompted. 

“Nothing good I assure you,” he teases. “ Just looking at those pretty legs of yours.”

“Mmhmm, figures,” you quip, hitting the side of his leg and shaking your head at him. 

Someone brings you a glass of champagne and you take a sip, you normally don’t like champagne but you decide to try it for the fun it. You take a sip and love the fizzy taste of it in your tongue. The more sips you take the more you like it. You realize you haven’t ever had good champagne before. You remember you tried some for your twenty-first birthday and it was the cheap kind at a restaurant down the street from here and it was awful. This was the complete opposite and you liked it. 

You suddenly hear Elvis chuckling to himself and shoot him a confused look. 

“What are you laughing at?”

“You. I’m going to have to carry you to bed after this hmm?” He taunts. 

“I’m not going to let it get that out of hand,” you tell him snickering. 

“Okay baby whatever you say,” he mumbles. “How was your nap?” He continues. 

“It was quite nice and drank plenty of water. Woke up feeling good as new,” you wink. “How are you feeling?” 

“Very good. I haven’t had any cravings… so I think that’s a good thing so far,” he cracks a smile telling you this. He carefully tucks your hair behind your ear, making sure to not make too much contact with your skin. 

“I’m glad you made it to the party. I thought you for sure would be out for the rest of the night,” he chuckled. “Did you do anything else while I was gone?” He says, his voice slightly accusatory. 

You knew he knew what was going on after that kiss. The alcohol got to your head and your body betrayed every last ounce of control that you had. It seemed you also needed to work on your control with him. You were going to blame it on the alcohol and the ungodly amount of sex appeal that was dripping off of him wearing that black velvet suit. How you wish you could have torn it off of him and have him do countless naughty things with you.

You look up at him with innocent eyes and a smile, “nothing much. Definitely not anything you wanted to see,” you quip. He blinks at you dumbfounded, a smile creaking out from those soft lips.

A rumble forms in his chest and and looks around the crowd then moves in front of you, blocking you from everyone else in the room. He uncrosses your legs and spreads them slightly, his hands burning on your skin the tighter he squeezes them and pushes you back in the chair. He props his bent knee in between your legs and takes your chin in his hand. 

“Do you have any idea how hard you make all of this on me? You ask me to have control around you but it’s literally impossible. Because you are the world's biggest tease. The way you look, the way you smell…it all beckons me to come and ruin you,” he growls, pushing the top of his thigh to your core. 

You suck in a sharp breath as you feel the added pressure there, looking down to see his hand carefully scrunching up the material of your dress, exposing your panties to him. He smugly looks down at you, placing both of his hands on the chair’s arms, and hunching over you. 

You know he’s doing everything to try and gain control but this is exactly what can’t happen. You can’t have him take a chance of him losing control with you. 

“A taste of your own medicine then…I know I’m making it difficult… but you can’t always get your way with me.” You protest. His eyes grow dark as he looks at you, looking over you with hunger. 

He puts more pressure on you making you groan, 

“Is that so… how unfortunate for you. Because I always get what I want,” he grumbles. 

You have to fight every urge to pull him into the bedroom with the way he’s looking at you.  

Your breathing begins to quicken and your eyes wander down his body. Your fingertips graze over his chest, down his torso, and stop when you reach his belt. He stares at you with caution and you proceed to graze his bulge, making him take a sharp breath. 

“Well then, tonight will be the first night you stay dissatisfied,” you say running your fingers back up his body. 

This only makes him more frustrated and he begins to rub the top of his thigh on your core more. You let a gasp escape your mouth, unable to hide how good the friction feels. 

“And you say I lie too much. Look at yourself, lying to me right now. Fighting every last drop of need you have for me,” he coos, his voice like smooth honey in your ear. Your hips involuntarily buck up on him and your legs squeeze around his, letting out a pleased groan when he watches you do this. Just his voice alone has you wet and aching for him.

“Mhmm, look at you, trying to ride my thigh, you naughty, naughty girl. Not keeping your promises now hmm,” he teases. 

“Elvis, please. I’m human, with human desires… this is just cruel what you’re doing. Not to mention, in a room with dozens of people,” you sigh, feeling his leg move again, making your eyes roll back. 

“I’m being good. I would love to have my fingers stuffed inside you but I don’t. Having the utmost control right now,” he grins, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. You groan at him, unable to fight the need you have for this man.

“Goddamn it… you just have to have everything your way don’t you?” You grumble, feeling the wetness in your panties begin to pool. You buck your hips again, grinding onto him and you bite your lip, holding back a deep groan. 

“It’s so much better when it’s done my way, honey,” he snickers, caressing your face and making you grow weaker by the second. Those blue eyes pierce into yours and you put your hand back on his belt, pulling his hips closer. 

“You’re not going to get to touch me. No matter how much you tease. You need to prove to me you have enough control over your thirst,” you sigh. 

You keep grinding your hips onto his leg and bite your lip looking at him. Your hand squeezes his bulge and he lets out a loud groan. You rub your hand along his length and he looks down at what you’re doing. 

“Fucking hell woman. You better stop,” he reprimands. 

You keep teasing, rubbing him more, liking to hear the moans escaping his lips as your hips move on him. You shake your head no at him and continue to taunt him. Your breathing quickens and your core begins to throb. You pull at his pants button and look up at him deviously. 

“Your pants are looking a little tight. How bad would it be if I unzipped them a little?” You tease. His hand tightens on the chair's arm and his chest heaves. 

“Very. Very bad. To the point where you’d leave me no choice but to pin you down with your face against the sheets and fuck you all night.” He says through his teeth. Your heart gallops at that salacious thought, knowing he would do such a thing to you. 

You stare up at him, your eyes unwavering and your fingers push the button on his pants, sliding the zipper ever so slowly. He looks down at your hand and groans softly. 

“Excuse me, Elvis, we have a problem,” one of his men announces a few feet away. 

His entire body stiffens when he hears the voice. He grumbles frustrated and throws daggers at you when he zips and buttons his pants again before turning around. You quickly straighten out your dress and proceed to look with curiosity at what is going on. 

“What could possibly be so important,” he growls, straightening out his stature and his chest heaving, making him look menacing. 

“He’s looking for her, sir. He’s causing a commotion downstairs.” He says matter of factly. 

Elvis turns around to look at you, anger blaring in his eyes. 

You stand up quickly, “Do you mean Daniel? He’s here looking for me?” You ask hesitantly. 

The man nods his head at you then looks back at Elvis, “What do you want us to do?” He asks him. 

“Let me take care of it. If I’m the one he wants to see, let me tell him to leave,” you say quickly before Elvis can answer. 

“Absolutely not, I’m not letting him anywhere near you,” he growls. 

“I guarantee you, he won’t go away, so let me just tell him to leave me alone for once and for all.” You say sternly. Elvis clenched his jaw and looks disapprovingly at you. 

“I’m going down there with you then. I’m not taking any chances,” he seethes. 

“Fine but stay out of sight. I don’t want him to make a bigger scene if he sees you with me,” you instruct. 

You know he doesn’t like it but he nods his head and agrees. You both make your way to the elevator and nerves make your stomach turn as it makes its way down to the lobby. You had no idea what you were walking into but knew Daniel was not going to be happy at all. You knew he had a bad temper. Regardless of whether he was drinking, he could light off like a bottle rocket. You’re sure he saw all your things gone and not to mention the cut telephone lines and was going to demand an explanation.

The ding of the elevator makes you jump out of your skin and Elvis steps in front of you before you’re able to step out. You look into his eyes, they look like they’re on fire and his intense energy makes you shiver.

“I’ll be right here, I can be there in a flash if you need,” he assures. You nod your head and he steps aside and you make your way through the busy lobby. You walk cautiously, scanning the crowd until you see the back of Daniel’s head by the front revolving doors of the hotel. A couple of Elvis’ men are behind him keeping an eye on him. 

“What are you doing here?” You bark, taking quick strides towards him. Seeing him here makes your blood boil and you want him away from you as quickly as possible. 

He turns around and is shocked at what you’re wearing. He scoffs at you and makes a few steps toward you. 

“I could ask you the same question. I come home to find your closet completely empty. I deserve an explanation!” He says, raising his voice louder at you. 

“I already told you. I’m done. You’ve cheated countless of times on me and I don’t love you anymore,” you seethe. 

He looks at you in shock, his face not hiding any emotion from you. 

“How could you say that?! After everything you’re just going to leave me?” He grumbles.

“Absolutely. And it’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done,” you seethe.

“You’re unbelievable. Where would you even go? You couldn’t afford a place here by yourself,” he spats. Anger boils within you and you can’t hide any of your feelings anymore. 

“Here with Elvis. He’s letting me stay with him,” you throw in his face. 

His face suddenly turns gaunt and stares at you mortified. 

“You can’t stay with him. You have no idea what he’s capable of,” he whispers, taking a few steps toward you. You look at him confused and don’t say anything right away. 

Does he know? How the hell does he know what Elvis is?

“I know he’s capable of empathy, something you lack. At least he cares that I’m around,” you spat. 

He starts laughing, covering his mouth with his hands, and looks at you in shock. 

“Oh I see what’s going on here, he’s giving you attention and you think he’s going to keep you around? You have no idea what he’ll do to you once he gets tired of you,” He says menacingly. You’ve had enough of his crass behavior and ball your fists at your side, taking slow breaths from your nose before speaking again.

You regroup and give him a snide little smile, shaking your head at him, “oh honey, he gives me a lot more than just his attention,” you insinuate, watching his face turn mortified yet again, “I go to him begging for things you could never give me,” you say through your teeth. 

Daniel’s eyes light up and he looks at you in horror. 

“You’re not serious… You let that thing touch you,” he says disgustedly.

You smirk at him, “Yeah, and I can’t get enough,” you taunt. He looks at you mortified and puts his hand on his forehead, backing up from you.

You stare at him in disgust, waiting for him to say anything else crass. Before you know it, he quickly lunges toward you and raises his hand, slapping you clean across your face. 

The pain of the slap radiates across your cheek and part of your nose. You grunt when the pain spreads more and you cover your cheek with your own hand. You stumble a bit, knocked by the force of his hand. You are in utter shock, in absolute disbelief he laid his hands on you like this. You see in the corner of your eye Elvis’ men start to lunge at him as you continue to stagger away.

“You stupid fucking bitch! Do you have any idea what he is?! What he can do-,” he yells at you but suddenly gets cut off mid-sentence.

You go to look up at him and in a blink, Elvis is in front of you, his body separating you two, and his hand is gripped tightly around Daniel’s neck. He gasps for air and claws at Elvis’ forearm. 

“You’re a piece of shit you know that?! How dare you even think of touching her! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck right here,” he seethes. You feel a hand pull you back from the two fuming men, turning to see it’s Jerry with concern in his eyes. You take a few steps back and tremble, not knowing what’s about to unfold before you. 

“You can’t … do this,” Daniel’s chokes out. 

Elvis cocks his head at him, “Do what? This?” He says as his hand tightens around his neck. Daniel grunts, gasping for breath. 

“You can’t compel… her to stay with you… you’re gonna kill her” he gasps. 

Elvis chuckles at him, “Oh you think I need to compel her to stay with me? You stupid fucking human,” he taunts. 

Daniel hits and pulls at his arm, needing to get air. He tries to twist his neck from Elvis’ grip but there’s no point. Elvis is too strong for him and it looks like he’s not even trying.

“Raphael isn’t going tolerate this. You… can’t keep her and draw more attention to yourself,” he rasps. 

“Go on and tell Raphael. Tell him how I have her all to myself and don’t plan on letting her go any time soon,” he snaps. 

“You’re gonna kill her if you do-,” he chokes out.

“I can take better care of her than you ever did, you pathetic excuse for a man.” 

You watch as Elvis puts his face inches away from Daniel’s, his eyes wide when he looks at Elvis. “I better not ever see you here again or I’ll make you bleed out slowly and painfully, wishing you had never seen my face,” Elvis snarls. 

He lets go of his throat and Daniel collapses into the floor, gasping and choking for air. 

“Y/n… y/n run… he can’t be trusted,” Daniel gaps out. 

“Get him out of here, NOW,” Elvis snarls at his men.

Elvis quickly turns to look at you and his eyes are bright red, anger radiating from his entire body. He quickly lunges for you and picks you up, moving too quickly for your brain to comprehend what is happening. 

You feel the rush of wind across your body and you hold onto his neck tightly, holding your breath not knowing what’s going on. 

He puts you back down on the floor and you open your eyes seeing that you’re back in the penthouse in his bedroom. You feel dizzy and have to get your bearings before you’re able to move.

He is beyond fuming, he looks like he’s going to go on a rampage. You see him with his back turned toward you and his shoulders rising and falling fast. 

“E-Elvis … what the hell is going on?” You ask scared. The entire penthouse is now quiet, you’re sure you could hear a pin drop and this gives you an eerie chill as you watch Elvis heave angrily. 

“He’s such a piece of shit. I should have ripped his head off you know that? Should have done it and rid one more awful soul on this earth. How dare he touch what’s mine!” he seethes. 

He grabs the lamp next to him and hurls it at the window making it shatter onto the floor. He quickly turns to his bedside and throws the books sitting on his nightstand, cussing and screaming in anger. You watch as his fists go flying up and hit the nightstand, making it crumble at his feet.

“Elvis stop that wouldn’t solve anything. You’re letting your anger get the best of you. You need to stop this right now!” you tell him.

“I don’t care, You’re mine! No one should touch you except me!” He growls possessively. He goes to the mirror and punches the middle of it, creating a circular shatter mark in it. You gasp when you hear the crunch of the glass shatter and are frozen with fear.

You look at him in the reflection of the mirror and he looks back at you with those gleaming red eyes and see his long fangs have extended. 

Shit. 

You back up, unsure of where to go but you know you need to give him space. 

“People like him don’t deserve a second chance. I should’ve shown him no mercy,” he hisses. 

“You need to calm down, please honey. Listen to me. It’s over now. I’m sure we won’t see him again,” you try to explain. 

“Oh no, he’ll be back. He’ll try to get Raphael to get rid of me,” he scowls taking long strides to get closer to you. 

“W-who’s that?” You ask shakily, backing up more to get away from Elvis’ fangs. 

“He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one I told you about that has a club here in town. He’s very powerful here,” he snarls. 

You don’t understand what is going on. All of this is happening so quickly and it makes your head spin, feeling sick to your stomach. 

“But how does Daniel know about him? Does he know what you are?” You ask. 

“He works for Raphael. Of course, he knows what we are. He wants to be turned, that’s the only reason he works for them. He thinks if he works for him long enough, he’ll turn him,” he vents. 

You gasp, utterly shocked by this information he’s given you. 

“What? Why?! Why would he ever want to be like one of you?” You ask. His face washes over with hurt and you wince once you realize what you just said. 

“Oh no, no I didn’t mean it like that!” You quickly reply but it’s too late. You’ve said what you said and you want to assure him with a touch of your hand but it probably isn’t the best idea. 

He puts up his hand to stop you from speaking and interrupts you. 

“Save it, I don’t want to hear it. But I’m sure he wants it for his own selfish reasons. The immortality, the ability to compel, the list goes on and on,” he snaps. 

You begin to tremble, scared over this whole situation, and stare at the towering vampire a few feet away from you. 

“What’s gonna happen?” You ask weakly. 

“I don’t know. We have rules. Not a lot, but a few important ones. If you turn a human, you become responsible for their actions. That’s why a lot of them band together and form little groups so the one that turns them can keep an eye on them. You brought them into this world in a sense and you are responsible for controlling them in a way.”

“But you haven’t done anything wrong…” you squeak out. He looks at you darkly, shaking his head.

“There’s things honey. Things I’ve done in the past that don’t make me a good man…” he trails off.

“What are you talking about?” You ask confused and a bit scared to find out the truth.

“I’ve told you, my thirst has always been an issue. When I got here in 1969, I overindulged, feeding on anyone that would come near me. I was making too much of an eyesore and people were beginning to question me… Afraid I was doing things that I shouldn’t be,” he explains. 

“That’s when I first found out Raphael was here and he had to warn me to get it under control. But I didn’t. I just became more inconspicuous about everything. I would feed too much on humans…where I almost bleed them dry. People were showing up to the hospitals with barely any blood left in them to function. Everyone got scared. People are scared of me y/n. People talk about me here with fear. As they should be,” he spits at you.

You take another step back as his red eyes stare at you intensely, looking at you like prey.

Your throat feels dry and you can’t make any words come out. That idea was terrifying, that he could let it get that out of hand if he wanted to. 

“That… that was years ago honey… You’ve changed. I know you have. I bled in front of you and you never went for my throat,” you say trying to calm him down.

“Those technicalities don’t matter. The point is I still have the same tendencies as before,” he growls, “humans aren’t even supposed to know about our existence. If he ever finds out I can’t compel you…that could be it for me. I’d be considered weak and a risk to all our kind…he could end me.” He pauses, his fangs have receded and he goes to you, his eyes still blood red. He reaches for his throat and rubs it uncomfortably, trying to swallow but it looks like it’s painful to do so.

End him? You’re too afraid to ask how something could end a vampire’s life but the thought petrified you. You couldn’t imagine Elvis getting hurt. The idea made you sick.

He turns to look at you and stands before you, reaching his hand out and you freeze, unknowing of what he’s going to do. He brushes back your hair on your neck exposing the faint bruise there. 

He makes a look of disgust and shakes his head, “Look at you, marked like some animal. I’m so sorry.” He grunts. 

His finger drags down across your chest and finds the seam of your dress where the v-cut ends. He doesn’t put much pressure on the dress for him to be able to tear it, exposing more of your breasts to him and showing the bruises he left with his mouth there. He grumbles when he sees the purple splotches, angry with himself for doing this. His fingertips lightly graze those bruises, sending a chill down your spine that tells every cell in your body to freeze.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this to you. I hurt you so easily-,” he says sorrowfully but you stop him from going on. 

“No, stop it. You’re not keeping me hostage and this was something I was okay with. Everything I’ve done with you was something I wanted to do. We just have to convince him that I’m with you under my own free will,” you say firmly but you see he’s not listening to you. 

“God I wish I could make you forget these last few weeks. Forget how I ruined your entire life and have you move on,” he says sorrowfully, not listening to what you’re saying at all.  

“I don’t! I don’t want to forget these weeks with you. They’ve been the most insane weeks of my life but I don’t want to forget and lose you,” you say. 

He looks down at you in sorrow, “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to control the thirst I have for you. It's an unparalleled amount and I can’t forget how you tasted,” he sighs as he looks over you hungrily. Your heart thumps nervously in your chest, unable to hide the nerves of being around him with those piercing red eyes.

“Just go to bed before I hurt you again,” he growls.

You look at him disheartened, hating that he’s trying to push you away again just when things get hard. He stares you down, making your skin crawl at how hot and intense his gaze is. You turn on your heel and slam the door behind you, surely making him more upset. 

You’re frustrated with his whole outlook on this. You know he can change, you see that he wants to but every time he’s tried on his own, he fails. Then he picks up on his bad habits and spirals downward. This time you felt it could be different because you were around. If what he says is true, and his feelings are that strong for you, he could change and control himself.

You start to head to your room and see that light is coming through the curtains, showing signs of the morning about to break. It feels like another sleepless dawn with nerves and anxiety and the thought of where you two were going to go made you a wreck. He was stubborn and set in his ways, constantly brooding that he couldn’t see past his mistakes. 

You get in the shower and clean your face from tonight’s makeup. Once you get out of the shower, you look at your face in the mirror and see the slap mark run across your face. You wince at the sight and feel it’s tender and pink. 

You hope to God you never see Daniel’s face again. You’re pretty sure you’d let Elvis hurt him and feel no remorse for it. Not after all of this. How he strung you along for years and was working for a slum of vampires. Was he ever going to tell you or would he just suddenly leave you and get bit? The thought boils your blood and hate that was even a path for you. 

In so many ways you needed Elvis. He made it complicated yes, but in so many ways he saved you. He saved you from a loveless relationship and one that would eventually be turned into a vampire, further causing more issues down the line. Elvis had to see the light that you saw within him. Elvis showed you a tender and loving side no man had ever shown you before. Your feelings for him were unparalleled to anything you had ever experienced. It was like something out of a book. All these emotions you were feeling were too strong and yet they were all real. 

That’s why you grew so frustrated with him. His broodiness made you so fed up with the whole situation. You wanted to give yourself completely to him but he always pushed you away just when he begged for you to do so five seconds ago. He gave you a complete whiplash these last few weeks and you needed to make him see the good within it all. The rough patches would smooth out and this whole thing with Raphael will get sorted, it just might take some time. You were determined to make him see and make him want better starting with himself. The rest you two could handle later on. You weren’t going to take no for an answer. 

It was late but you didn’t care. Anger radiated through you and you weren’t going to sleep til this was sorted. If you had to scream and yell at him all morning long, then that’s what you’d do. 

You quickly put on a nightgown and rush to the other side of the penthouse. You don’t bother to knock on his bedroom door. You’ve seen it all at this point that nothing is going to phase you of whatever he was doing in there. 

You quickly open the door and see Elvis on the floor, blood vials sprawled out on the floor all empty. He looks in your direction flashing his dangerous red eyes at you. 

“What are you doing in here,” he growls, his fangs showing when he speaks. 

You slam the door again behind you and go barreling toward him, unafraid of the sight before you. 

“Get up,” you yell, pulling him by his arm. He looks at you shocked, not used to your abrasive tone. He grunts and shakes his arm free from your grasp. 

“You should have stayed in your room,” he hisses.

“You’re not telling me what to do! I’m sick and tired of your piss poor attitude. If you want me gone just say so! ‘Cause that’s what you’re doing to me! You’re pushing me away!” You yell. 

You watch as his shoulders rise and fall when he looks at you, “No, I don’t want you to leave.” He grumbles. 

“Then act like it! I’m tired of hearing you telling me to go away!”

You look at the vials on the floor then look back up at him, “and what the fuck is going on here?”

“I’m fucking starved! You make me crave more blood than I have in a long time!” He growls at you.

“You’re blaming all of this on me?! Like I made you drink my blood?!” You shoot back at him.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. It’s my doing, not yours,” he growls.

“Let’s figure something out to help you not want to drain me,” you stressed. "There has to be a way."

“Baby… I’m no good. I can’t control this vile beast within me,” he says defeated.

“Stop that right now! There has to be a way,” you say frustrated.

“Yes there is… and that’s for you to stay away from me…” he says angrily.

Anger fills your veins and you push hard against his chest, staring into those intense red eyes while doing so, and push him toward the bed to make him sit down. He looks at you in shock, not understanding what you’re doing. You stand in between his legs, grabbing a fist full of his shirt in your hands. He hisses at your touch and winces, closing his eyes.

“Listen to me and don’t say a word you understand?!” You yell at him, getting close to his face, waiting for his response. He nods his head in agreement even though his eyes say otherwise. 

“I’m not going anywhere! You are going to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can control this I’m sure of it. You’re not the monster you think you are. I don’t see you the way you see yourself,” you explain.

He has his eyes closed, not wanting to look at you. You pull his chin up to look at you.

“If I leave, I know you will find me in a matter of minutes and come begging for me to forgive you! Leaving is not an option. You said it yourself, you can’t get away from me,” you pause to make sure he’s listening.

“Look at me, now,” you beg. He finally looks at you and flashes those red eyes.

You sigh, “I trust you. You’re not going to hurt me, You’ve had plenty of opportunities if you were to do so. But you won’t. I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me,” You explain.

“Honey, please. How can you say that? After all of this? I can’t… I can’t have you touch me.” He sighs, trying to get your hand off his face.

“Yes, you can. You’re not going to hurt me. Would it really be easier for you to never see me again? You’d only crave me more,” You tell him, almost certain it's the truth.

Your fingers run through his hair and you place a kiss on the top of his head. He groans, keeping his hands on the tops of his thighs as you continue to touch him. His breathing rises and your hands run down his back, pulling him in for an embrace. He grumbles into your chest, being tortured by your heart’s pitter-patter so close to his mouth.

You grab his wrists and pull them away from his thighs.

“I know I said no touching me… but you need to trust how much control you have. You’re not going to hurt me, I know you won’t,” you say. You place his hands on your hips and he looks up at you.

“Why are you so good to me? I don’t deserve you,” He quivers, bringing his hand up to your torso, up the sides of you then back down, squeezing lightly at your hips.

You take a sharp breath in through your nose, reveling in the feeling of him touching you.

“Because I know. I know you’re good inside. I know you care about me deeply and would never hurt me. What you’ve done in the past, stays there. That’s not you anymore.” You grab his wrists again, pulling his hands upward against your torso, up to the swell of your breasts.

“I know these hands, won’t do anything bad but show me love… Is that right?” You ask. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing your breasts firmly. He nods his head and looks at you sorrowfully. You smile at him, liking the way he’s listening. You move one of his hands up, making him wrap it around your throat and he grunts when you do so. You sigh too when you feel his hand on your neck, liking the slight squeeze he gives you. You want his attention to be stuck on you and know you have to keep going, you don’t want a word of rebuttal from him of how he’s no good.

For the first time ever, you have to be the dominant one and not let him get his way. No amount of pleading will get you to submit to him right now. He was the one that was going to have to submit to you. 

You bring his fingers to your mouth, placing a kiss on each fingertip, then down to the palm of his hand. His eyes are locked on you, watching your every movement as you continue.

You look at his eyes, holding him there in your gaze, and give him a little smirk for what you’re about to do. You bring his middle and ring finger to your mouth and lick the two digits, swirling your tongue on his fingertips. He groans, watching how your mouth moves on him. 

“Fuck…” he breathes.

You push his fingers more in your mouth, running your tongue along their length and taking them out of your mouth with a pop. He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, silently pleading for you to continue.

“Mhmm, and these fingers give me nothing but pleasure too?,” you grunt, leading his fingers under your nightgown and having him rub your clit ever so lightly. The warmth of you radiating onto his hand. He cusses your name, liking that he can touch you more.

“Yes of course,” he whimpers. 

You place his hand back on your hip and rub his bottom lip with your thumb. He places a kiss on it, pleading to let him do more than just sit here. 

“And this mouth… this mouth can only show me pleasure too…isn’t that right?” You ask, watching how he bites his lip as you ask him these questions.

“Yes baby, only for good I promise you,” he moans, peppering kisses on your palm.

You could crumble right here, watching how undone you’ve made this man. Your fingertips start to graze down his chest, working the buttons off of his shirt slowly.

“Good. I love that mouth too much,” you tease as your hands touch his chest. Your eyes continue to wander and see the growing erection in his pants. Your hand slowly grazes his length and he squirms at your touch. You look back up at him to still him and he freezes when you do so. 

His eyes are slowly turning a dark shade of blue and the veins by his eyes have slowly dissipated. You smile to yourself, liking how you’ve got him to focus solely on you and nothing else. You go back to touching him firmly, making a small groan when you feel how hard his cock is.

“And this… is this mine?” You ask, moving your hand more on him causing him to grunt. 

He looks down at what you’re doing, his hips rutting with your movements. He makes the most delicious-sounding moans you’ve ever heard and you could easily fall apart at his feet. 

“Yes. God yes it is. I’m all yours. Whatever you want you can have, baby,” he professes breathlessly.

Your cheeks redden by his words, not believing you have him this way. His usual dominance is melted away because of you and you have him in the palm of your hand, having him grind into you as he waits for your next direction.

You had to get him to listen. Show him that he has control with you.

“Whatever I want?” You ask coyly.

He nods his head at you, his eyes pleading, “Whatever you want. Please tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He groans, desperate for you, his hands squeezing your hips tight.

You pull at his arm to stand up and you lay on the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his torso and keeping him pressed against you. His eyes grow wide and his hands grab the back of your thighs to keep your legs up.

“Tell me, tell me how bad you want to please me,” you sigh, feeling his cock rest against your core. He grunts and pulls you against him more firmly.

“That’s all I want. I want to make you happy, to make you feel good.” He says with a grind of his hips into you.

You close your eyes, loving how even his words can turn you on.

“I know you do. You always do,” you moan. “Keep moving, you feel good like this,” you gasp and he rolls his hips again, grinding his cock onto your covered pussy.

“Yes, baby. I can feel how wet you are for me,” he grunts, moving his hips more.

You watch as he takes his hands off of your hips and starts to unbutton his pants. You grab his wrist quickly to stop him.

“No baby, keep them on.” You instruct. He whimpers at your instruction, not liking that he’s not getting his way.

“Oh please, baby. Please, I wanna feel you,” he begs, grinding into you more.

“You can later. Show me how well you can listen,” you tease. He lets out a frustrated grunt and nods his head. He moves his hips like it's second nature, conjuring new feelings you’ve never had before and always making you need more. 

“Please keep moving. Tell me what you want right now,” you instruct, rolling your hips into him, loving how good he feels.

“Fuck baby…I-I-I wanna stuff that tight pussy with my cock and make you say my name when you’re about to come undone,” he groans breathlessly. His voice makes your core throb and you want him to do all of that to you. His fingers delicately play with the seam of your panties, lightly pulling at the lace fabric and you hear it begin to tear.

 You pull his hands back on your hips, getting him to hold you tight there.

“I’d love that. You know how much I love getting fucked by you,” you say breathlessly, knowing your words too are going to drive him to the edge.

“Mhmm, I know you do. Because you’re mine. All mine,” he says as his hips continue to grind away onto your core. He bites his lip as he looks down at you, hunger washing over him but so focused on the task at hand.

“Yes, I am,” you pant. “Tell me what else you need.”

He groans out frustratedly, looking down at your hips meeting one another, wishing he could feel your naked body on his. He picks up one of your legs and bends it upward, spreading you wider.

“I want to pin you down on this bed, make you beg for my cock all night long. I love hearing you beg for me,” he grunts into your ear making your core throb.

“Fuck, yes. I want that too,” you moan. 

You make him take his hands off of you and you push him onto the bed again, getting on top of him quickly, pinning his hands by his head. His eyes are full of shock and he doesn’t say anything.

You sit back down on his covered length and grind into him, making your eyes roll back.

“I’m gonna come, baby. Watch me come,” you tell him as you feel the coil in your belly tighten by the second. He writhes underneath you, wanting to gain back control so badly.

“Ah, no baby, please. Let me be inside you. I wanna feel you,” he pants, his eyes big and pleading.

You shake your head at him, grinding on him more and more. 

“Why would you ever want that,” you tease.

“Ahh y/n please,” he whimpers loudly, tossing his head to the side with frustration.

“Elvis tell me,” you moan.

He groans and shuts his eyes, so sexually frustrated with this game your playing and very successfully winning.

“Because I love feeling you squeeze around my cock. I can’t help it. You were made just for me,” he moans. His possessive words ring in your ear over and over and you feel your body about to give out with him talking like this.

You place your hands on his chest and work your way to your orgasm, your jaw falling slack when you feel that familiar feeling of your coil snapping and your walls fluttering around nothing. You moan his name as you ride out your high, your hips still grinding into his cock. He suddenly cries out too, squeezing his eyes shut and his hips stuttering, then bucking up into you. 

That’s when you feel the wetness spread in his pants and this surprised look on his face forms. He cusses under his breath and places his hands on your hips, rocking you into him harder. You can feel your arousal seep out of your panties and onto his pants, creating a slick mark along where his cock is. You can’t catch your breath as you watch this man become completely unglued and writhing underneath you.

He looks down at your mess and chuckles, putting his head back on the bed.

“Holy fuck woman…”

“What are you laughing about hmm?” You giggle at him. He sighs heavily and bites his lip.

“I’ve just never come in my pants like this,” he says embarrassed.

“Well it's a first for everything,” you quip cheekily. You touch his face and he looks at you intently.

“I’ve actually never umm… had a woman ever tell me what to do like that… It was so… attractive,” he smirks at you.

Your heart leaps and you stare at him stunned, having been the first woman that ever made Elvis Presley submit to every last wish and desire.

“Are you serious? Never?” You ask.

He hums amused, “Never. I can usually make someone listen to me remember?” He quips cheekily.

“Oh, I see,” you say covering your mouth with the smile that’s forming on it. “Did you like me telling you what to do?” You ask softly.

He nods his head and gazes into your eyes, “yes I did. I’ve never been so turned on,” he quips. Your cheeks redden and you flash a smile at him. “Good, I’m glad. I want to do it again,” you tease, brushing his hair back that’s fallen on his forehead and look at his eyes.

“Look at yourself…your eyes… they’re so blue.”

He kisses the back of your hand and smiles at you, “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. My temper got the best of me…I guess I do have a bit more control than I thought,” he hums.

You lay beside him, his arm wrapped around your body tightly. You let a comfortable silence hang over you two, liking how everything feels like it's going to be sorted out.

“I want to be with you, through the good and the bad. I want you, Elvis. Let me help you,” you say, rubbing his chest lightly.

He sighs at the feeling of your touch, “I want you too. I know we can make this work. I promise you,. I'm not letting anyone get between us,” he says tenderly.

You wrap your leg on him and cuddle into the crook of his neck, the scent of him filling your nose. You sigh and feel his hand run through your hair, gently caressing you. You feel at peace with him for once. 

The blanket of sleep starts to wash over you and you feel him pull the blankets and cover your fragile body. You hold onto him tighter, hoping he doesn’t leave by the time you wake up. Your body felt so tired, so emotionally battered that you felt like you needed to sleep for an entire week. There was a lot of unknown and the fear of what Raphael could do to Elvis scared you. But in this moment, none of that mattered. You were here in his arms, hearing his strange heart beat away for you.

Tagging 🖤:

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@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

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@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis imagine #elvis smut #70s elvis #vampire elvis #elvis fic #elvis au #sinned awakening #samfangirls

[ponyosmom35]

history repeats itself

Simon ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter sixteen!

summary: reader is back with 141, this time finding herself in Los Almas, Mexico. She is excited to reunite with Simon and Johnny, until a familiar masked man yells at her.

Liability masterlist

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Six months later, she returned to the familiar grounds of the military base, now serving as the on-base medical assistant for Task Force 141. The journey back had not been swift; months were spent navigating the bureaucratic maze of background checks and official procedures. As she settled into her new role, the echoes of the past lingered in her mind.

In the quiet moments between medical duties, her thoughts often drifted to him. The absence he left behind during her departure had created a void that time and distance had failed to fill. She found herself longing for a connection that she once took for granted, a connection she now regretted not vocalizing.

Despite the passage of time and the fact that he never bothered to reach out, the prospect of seeing Simon again excited her. The anticipation of encountering him once more stirred a mix of emotions—hope, nervousness, and an undeniable longing.

The moment finally arrived when she saw him again after six long months. As her eyes caught sight of Simon amidst the surroundings of the military base, a rush of emotions swept over her.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as she took in the sight of him. The magnetic pull she had always felt was undeniable, and her heart skipped a beat as if echoing the rhythm of unspoken emotions. It was a familiar feeling, yet tinged with the anticipation of a new beginning.

As she observed him from a distance, her eyes traced the contours of his features, rediscovering the details that had etched themselves into her memory. The way he moved, the intensity in his gaze—every nuance resonated with a familiarity that felt like coming home. She couldn't help but marvel at how he seemed to carry both strength and power in his presence.

However, her enchantment was abruptly disrupted when she noticed the telltale signs of a storm brewing within him. His walk, once confident and steady, now carried an unmistakable edge of anger. It was a jarring contrast to the Simon she had known, and the realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind.

As he approached, the air crackled with tension, and the once-anticipated reunion took an unexpected turn. His angry demeanor left her momentarily stunned, a sharp contrast to the romanticized version of their encounter that had played out in her mind. The distance he maintained, both physical and emotional, became palpable, causing the spark of rekindled love to flicker uncertainly.

The atmosphere became charged with unspoken words and a turbulent energy that threatened to reshape the narrative of their reunion. The journey from the elation of seeing him again to the harsh reality of his angered approach was a rollercoaster of emotions, leaving her grappling with the complexity of their connection.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he demands

She looks up at him in horror “what's with the hostility?”

“You shouldn’t be here”

“I've heard that one before, we've been over this already!” she attmpets to joke

“Unfucking believable” he curses

“Simon why are you saying this?”

“Because it's true!”

“what changed? you don't see me for months and now you treat me like I'm nothing?”

“You're a liability! We are in Mexico! Las Almas is ran by a cartel, and you think your presence here will do us any good? What has Price got to say about this?” 

“Simon-”

“You will refer to me as Ghost from here on out, do you understand?”

“Okay fine, fuck you Ghost!” she argues

“What was that?”

“you heard me” 

“You-”

“why are you so intent on replaying history Simon? I thought we were friends, I see now that I was wrong” she snaps as she picks up her luggage once more

“we're here for a mission, our past has nothing to do with it. go put your stuff away and acquaint yourself with the other medics”

She does not say a word as she leaves him alone at the door. Tears well in her eyes and she attempts to avoid the stares she received from the people around her. It felt like she was starting over again. Reminders of how awful her first month back in the UK were flash through her mind. Somehow she’d managed to turn the only person she’d ever loved against her. After making it to her room she sets her things down, shocked as she spots another cot in the corner of the room. She as hoping she’d be alone. She picks through the person’s belongings until she spots a pair of skeleton gloves. Her breath hitches and she sits down on the bed. Tears sting in her eyes, feeling more alone than ever.

#smut #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley #angst #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon Riley #simon riley smut #soap mw2 #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #call of duty mw2 #141 #cod 141 #tf 141 #task force 141 #141 x reader #mw2 141

[g0ose-bumps]

A/O/B verse Ghoap

(Dom)Beta!Ghost meets (Sub)Alpha!Soap who's a big flirt. M rated. Canon compliant to codmwii.

When Ghost hears about the new sergeant joining them, he's pays it no mind. Whether the man would be a hindrance or a help, was to be seen. Ghost worked best alone. While he could lead a squad easily, closer partnership was something he always sought to avoid. That said, the likelihood of the man being an annoyance was high and Ghost was not a gambling man.

MacTavish was apparently an Alpha, and Ghost wasn't about to bet on him not challenging Ghost's authority with some typical Alpha bullshite.

The world looked down on anyone who wasn't an Alpha. Betas while appreciated for their lack of pheromonal syndromes, were never one to be looked for leadership. They were seen as the workforce of the world, most higher ranked positions given to Alphas who were generally stronger, faster and some might even say smarter. Omegas weren't even considered for anything but breeding, the poor bastards.

Ghost didn't care about any of it.

Well to be exact, he didn't care insofar as it affected his job. He'd had many a man under his command sniff at him strangely and then open their useless mouth to decry being led by a Beta. Ghost had largely ignored their screeches, too focused on the mission to truly care. Those men never lasted long anyway.

He'd liked being a Beta. The strange smells, heats and ruts Ghost had heard about were just that—bizarre physical urges that created a scene Ghost was keen to avoid. He'd always thought Betas were made superior by not being controlled by their cocks or cunts. Ghost had seen many good men and women led astray by one whiff of something in the air. Emotions fraught on their faces as they abandoned all who they were as people and became savage animals.

The thought made him nauseated. To be at the whims of another person just because they smelt a certain way was pure insanity to him. Ghost was quite happy he never had to deal with any of that Alpha/Omega shite. He'd happily ignore the whole pheromonal debacle if it wasn't so prevalent every time he dealt with a new Alpha.

That's why when he actually does meet the man he's heard so much about–mostly from Price who never stopped bragging about this 'Soap's' achievements, or from Gaz who was apparently bossom brothers of a sort–he's fully taken aback.

He's short, is what he thinks first. Most alphas stood at least 6 feet tall. The sergeant was probably 7 inches shorter than him. Not that he's much to sneeze at either, Ghost being abnormally tall for even Alpha standards. But it's undeniable that for an Alpha, MacTavish was on the smaller side.

The second thing he notes, is that he looks soft. His face is soft, his demeanor is soft and his words are soft. It's an abrupt departure from the lean angularity that made up a stereotypical Alpha. Hell, even Gaz and Price who were both Alphas, had looked to be cut from the same stone. Acted like it too some days, exuding a comfortable confidence that couldn't be faked.

It was Ghost who stood out as a giant among the bunch, made more 'freakish' looking by his height and bulk. Aside from the others in 141, most Alphas felt threatened by him, like he'd try to steal their Omegas or their positions. He'd only laugh when they accused him of just that. Ghost wasn't interested. He never was.

This Alpha, however, takes one glance up at him and offers up his bare neck. Shadowed eyes looking up at him sweetly, pretty lashes fluttering. He gets a soft, "Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt? Save ya a seat, sir..." And a slight tap to his chest (a fistbump of all things!).

Ghost is stunned. He eyes the openly barred neck the sergeant was proudly displaying to him. He's so utterly confused. Alphas tended to guard their neck at all costs. Their neck doubled up as a sensitive place for the bonds they would make or as a weak spot to instantly immobilize them. Offering up ones neck was considered a submission only given to Alphas higher up in their internal rankings or...

Ghost can't even think it. But he does, the sergeant winking at him while Ghost just stands there like an idiot with his mouth gaped open.

A barred neck was an invitation for something more intimate in nature. Something Ghost had only heard about in lurid whispers among the men. It was unheard of to have an Alpha do it for a Beta. It was even more unheard of for an Alpha to do it in plain sight of others, no less in front of the men they were to lead in a mission, 5 minutes from starting. It was dark, but not dark enough for everything to be hidden.

Despite himself, Ghost feels the stirrings of hunger deep within him. He wants desperately to take that smug look off of the Alpha's face, to have him writhing for more. To grab the man and bare his vulnerable throat further. Show Ghost more of that tan skin so carefully hidden amongst thick protective clothes.

He wants to take that submission being offered so prettily by the cocky Alpha right in front of him and cram it down his throat. Have him bouncing in his lap, insensate and screaming for more. Thrust up into that tight arse and watch as he cries fat tears down those soft, soft eyes of his. Then laugh as the Alpha struggles to fit his reddened lips over Ghost's length when he takes his mouth as well and makes him choke on it.

Ghost wants.

Soap takes one last glance at him and smirks. The other man seemed assured of whatever he saw from Ghost. He saunters off towards the transport, head held high. An Alpha to the core despite all the Very Not Alpha Behaviour he'd just shown Ghost.

"Fucking hell..." Ghost groans.

Shepherd barks, "Ghost, you copy?"

A slight pause. "Yes sir." Ghost chokes back, tongue thick in his mouth.

He can hear the worried concern coming from the older Alpha at Ghost's uncharacteristic fumbling.

"Any issues?"

Ghost has so many issues.

"Negative sir, out here." He growls, a headache growing at the thought of all the upcoming missions with Soap.

Fucking hell indeed.

*

#ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod drabble #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #my writing #omegaverse #why beta ghost? #why not i say #soapghost

[ohtobeleah]

Enterprise // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: Confidence.

Chapter Summary: There’s a lesson here somewhere, but you aren’t ready to figure it out. Setting up a meeting with Jake ‘The Hangman’ Seresin to see if he would consider a merger is the last thing you knew your late father would want you to do.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mafia/Gang related themes. Sexual tension. Age Gap. Mentions of guns.

Word Count: 3.4K

Author Note: So, if you originally read this in the Dolan Twins fandom way back in the day—shut the fuck up no you did not. I will deny deny deny….. This series will be updated once a week on Sundays

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two |

The first time you met Jacob Seresin was at one of your fathers monthly meetings between himself and Jake's father. Carl ‘The Carver’ Seresin. He got his title from the carvings he’d leave on his enemies' faces. He’d slash them with a razor blade so deep that the scars left behind were undeniably noticeable and incredibly trademarkable. Meeting once a month became a common occurrence to make sure an all-out war didn’t ensue between the rival gangs. The Death Adders and the Katipo. Although bloodshed and violence were always an issue between members in the streets, as long as the two powerhouse men that ruled over all could remain on speaking terms, all was good in the city of Fitzroy.

You never attended your father's meetings with Carl Seresin and hoped you'd never have to, but the day you turned eighteen? Everything changed. You had already seen so much, been exposed to things out of this world unholy. The last thing you wanted to do was meet the man who caused your father so much strife, and his son. 

Jake though? He was always present, always standing right behind his father because he always knew that someday everything would be his. The day you arrived with your father he was completely shocked to see you in the study, sitting on the lounge all prim and proper like. The girl he’d heard so much about through his father was actually stunning, instantly having a soft spot for you the moment he saw you follow your father into the foyer when he was watching from the top floor of the staircase. You'd only briefly glanced up at him when you first arrived. Pretty white dress adorning your body, hair tucked back, neat and slick. 

“Hi.” Jake smiled as he held his hand out for you to shake before you quickly shot him a look of pure evil. “You lost sweetheart? This isn't normally a place where a pretty girl such as yourself would come willingly?” 

“Don’t try me.” You were quick to sneer. “I’ll kick your ass.” You knew what you and Jake were destined to be. Sworn rivals, enemies with common ground. There was no need for small talk, no need for niceties. 

“As if, a fucking girl dad?” Jake scoffed as the two men were settling into their chairs for the evening, both babysitting a glass of fine whiskey and watching their offspring interact for the first time. Keeping the two of you apart had been a part of their agreement, partly to keep you safeguarded until you were ready to start learning the ins and outs of your father's business. However, you'd already come to know more than enough throughout your childhood. “How the fuck are you meant to be my arch-rival?” Jake pulled at your hair, pulling you straight up from the lounge that you sat perched on quietly, Your father only scoffed, hoping you'd defend yourself against the man who was twelve years your senior. 

“Don’t!” You spat as you pulled yourself out of Jake's grip, He was a god damn adult and he was acting like a petulant child with a schoolyard crush. Your mother, prior to her passing, had always told you boys who teased were the ones with the biggest crushes, but this was just physical assault in your books. 

“Aw gonna cry to daddy are we?” Jake snickered before he pretended to cry as he whipped fake tears from his eyes just as your fist collided with his nose, sending blood rushing down around his mouth as he stumbled back in shock. Cupping his hand over his nose to catch the blood that poured out fast. 

“The fuck was that for!!”

“Don’t try me, Seresin you’ll only regret it” You hissed through gritted teeth as you walked over to stand behind your fathers chair who was smirking with delight that his little girl was a natural fighter, leaving a very much in pain Jake standing in the middle of the study. Completely dumbfounded. 

That was Jake Seresin's first encounter with the girl he’d chase after his entire life, his future wife. But what Jake didn’t know is that through the pain of his bloodied nose, your hand was broken and throbbing, but you could take the heat without showing a single sign of pain on your face as you stood tall behind your father–gripping at the back of his chair to push through the pain.

Because if you had learnt one thing about this lifestyle, it was that showing any sign of weakness in a world of men was not an option.

***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-

(Six Years Later- Present Day) 

Your father would be turning in his grave right now if he knew that this was the first plane, albeit, best plan, you could come up with. The mirror image of yourself that had been staring back at you for the better half of ten minutes looked entirely different to the person you thought you would become. This wasn't the life you wanted for yourself–but it was the only one you knew. Only one you had. Only one you'd ever get. 

“Suck it the fuck up.” You scoffed to yourself before you shook off all your second thoughts and existential dread. “No backing down.” Noone was going to give you a shoulder to cry on, so there were no reasons to cry in the first place, no reasons to feel anything. You fumbled fast to pack up the lipstick and pressed powder compact back into your clutch, ruffling your hair in the mirror as you studied the scars that littered your face from a lifetime of crime, dirty bidding and underground societal standards. “Live in clover, Widow, Live in frivolous clover.” Mumbling the words to yourself as you let out a deep sigh, hopefully this would work out in your favour, it would be a good change if it did. If this meeting worked out it would be considered a drastic change from the current trajectory the way things had been going for you as of late. Everything had gone tits up. You just needed one fucking win.

As the soft curls flowed freely over the expanse of your exposed shoulder, you couldn’t help but tremble at the thought of your next move, it was only for a split second, but you still held the door knob of the foyer bathroom for far longer than you should have. Mulling over if this was truly the right thing to be doing. Your father would fucking kill you if he knew exactly who you were running to for guidance and safety the second he was laid to rest. The dirt over his grave had barely lost its moisture, freshly laid before you were reaching out to organise a meeting with the rival Mafia Boss. Jacob ‘The Hangman” Seresin.

This could make or break your entire enterprise. The moment you realised your late father’s “enterprise” had become officially yours overnight, you lost whatever slither of innocence you had left, not that you had much left to lose in the first place. The harsh reality quickly set in that you were now the sole female Capofamiglia in all of Fitzroy. Not only that but you were only in your early fucking twenties. These two factors alone made you venerable, a walking goddamn target if there ever was one. You may as well shoot a beacon into the air for all your fathers enemies to swarm on you like hungry wolves because as you were guided up the stairs by two security guards that looked more like henchmen than respectable security detail, you knew they were all lying in wait for the right moment. 

And that moment could have very well have been now, as you walked right into the study that belonged to none other than Jake Seresin. 

You needed to act quickly, work smarter, “use your wits' ' as your pops would say. Fitzroy was dangerous territory, crime was a normality, violence occurred on the daily and despite your youth you had been exposed to the worst of the worst, having been your fathers only child, the sole erie to the enterprise he’d build upon after his father left him to carry it on. 

You knew proving your worth would be harder than just stepping up to take your father’s place, you needed to show every man in this city of Fitzroy just how much of a threat you could be if crossed, just as dangerous and just as malicious they could be. 

As of right now, your men looked weak at the leadership of such a young woman, they were dropping like flies, reaching out to rival mobs to cut deals with and jump ship. As far as you were concerned however, their loyalties lied with your father, not you. you’d spit on their graves quicker than you could blink if given the chance. Looking up from your shoes, you saw Jake sitting at his desk–he hadn’t bothered to look up from the laptop he was looking at. He’d heard the door open, heard his security mention your arrival, but he didn't seem to give a shit. Typical fucking Jake. 

Revenge lied deep behind your eyes, over the years you’d become nothing but a cold empty shell of the girl who just wanted love and compassion. Now? You were hopelessly devoted to a world of drugs, sex, money and power. 

“By all means, Don't let me interrupt.” You cleared your throat before raising a single brow at Jake as you crossed your arms over themselves, standing in the middle of his overly exuberant study. The dress you wore had been an odd choice for such a meeting, but then again you never got a chance to really dress up these days. It was just a simple black slip, heels to match. 

Jake didn't even blink as he reached for the handgun sitting pretty on top of his desk, his emerald eyes still glued to the screen as he scrolled–pulling the hammer back as he aimed it right at you. 

“I don't recall asking you to fucking speak.” Jake spat as he heard you move, following in his actions as you reached for the gun strapped to your thigh, pulling the hammer back as you trained it on his chest, a fatal shot. 

“Damn, we must have gone shopping at the same gun show Seresin.” You smirked, taking as few steps forward. “I don't believe you’d shoot a lady.” Jake still didn't bother to look your way, the longer it took to draw his attention off whatever he was looking at made you lapse in your own judgement. Perhaps coming here was a bad idea after all, a lesson to be learned. But you only knew of one man who could either help you rise to the top of Fitzroy’s criminal hierarchy or one who would happily watch you roll around with the dogs in the streets. Either way, The kingpin of Fitzroy, Jake ‘The Hangman” Seresin, was your only shot at power.

“No lady here, just a fucking pest.” Jake sneered as he finally turned his head to look at you, lowering his gun as you did, watching carefully as you lowered it to your side, index finger still looking rather trigger happy as it ghosted over the trigger. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Jake grinned as he let his back rest against the back of his study chair, hands coming up to cup the back of his head. 

“You took some of my men, Hangman, that’s not very nice.” Jake could tell your voice was laced with venom, it damn near echoed out in Jake's enormous study, antique in style, he liked the mob style aesthetic. Jake just chuckled at you, shaking his head in reluctance to believe that's how this whole ordeal had gone. 

“I don’t recall taking any men, if anything they ran to me like petulant children when they clearly didn't get their way.” Jake was quick to defend himself as he rose from his seat, his hand resting on the oak of his desk as he leaned over. “The fuck are you doing here Y/n?” Jake had never been good with small talk. “Where's daddy? Why is he sending you to do his dirty work?” Jake had been expecting your father for his monthly meeting any day this past week, it wasn't like him to miss such a scheduled and routine meeting, even since Jake had taken charge. He could vividly remember sitting in on your fathers meetings when you were both just kids. Jake had always been much older than you, but he always had a thing for the way you never took any shit from anyone—including him. 

“Dead.” You caught the lump in your throat before it could even be detected by Jake, never faulting your tough exterior for a moment. “I thought you would have known by now, kept the funeral private though, just me.” You hadn’t gone parading your father's death around. The notice you’d sent Jake a week ago still sat unread in his emails. He’d seen your name pop up and barely paid enough thought to it that perhaps the email was of import. Looking at Jake with a spiteful eye—you knew he didn’t give a shit about your situation, your father’s death only meant one thing and one thing only—he was top dog now. 

“My condolences.” Jake looked up with pity plastered over his entire face, he did care. To an extent, he knew what it was like to be thrown into the ocean without a life jacket. When he’d lost his father, he thought he was ready to take over his fathers enterprise. It's all he’d ever grown up hearing. But he wasn’t, he leant though. He dealt with his demons until they consumed him whole. “Whatever will you do now? Fitzroy’s newest Capofamiglia?”

“I was hoping you’d share your secrets if you’re interested in a merger?” Fumbling with your dress, you placed your gun back in your garter. The rush of adrenaline had begun to fade as the cocky smirk you wore faded after no longer than five seconds  after having just come to the realisation that you were truly standing across the room from none other than the notorious Jake Seresin. The Hangman, how the fuck you weren’t dead by now was beyond you. “Unless you wanna sit back and watch me take over Fitzroy?” 

Jake sauntered out from behind his desk, eyeing you off as if what you asked was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard you say. Backing up slowly with your gaze trained on Jake, he stalked you down like prey until your back hit one of the many bookcases that lined his study. You brought your hand up to rest gently on top of your garter belt which once again held the handgun your late father had given you. You never should have lowered your weapon. 

Jake's walk was intimidating, his glare nothing but intense as he trapped you between himself and the bookcase now pressing into your back. The dark, navy-blue suit looked far too snug against his bulging body. With a shockingly evil smirk, Jake leaned in, trapping you between his arms as his hot breath made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand upright to attention. His deep, hypnotic voice filling his study.

“So, The Widow wants to know my secrets?” Jake cooed as he squished your cheeks together with his fingers and his thumb, forcing you to look at him. “How I run such a successful enterprise like this?” He paused, pressing a light kiss against your exposed collar bone, trailing his free hand down your torso, his thumb massaging your hip slightly before his hand continued down to aimlessly feel the gun resting against your supple skin. His head shot up to meet your eyes, a devilish grin upon his face as he dipped his hand inside your dress to pull the gun out, revealing it in all its glory, pressing it into your neck as you lifted your jaw high in an attempt to get away. “Fucking look at you, you pathetic pest of a thing.” Jake had been genuinely surprised when his assistance had told him you’d requested a meeting, you had always been his favourite play thing. But the dynamic had now changed, you were his rival? His equal. “You aren’t worth my fucking time you know that right?” 

“Still breathing aren't I? So I must be worth something.” You challenged as Jake cocked the hammer back, making you flinch as he held your head still. He could practically hear your heart beating out of your chest as he growled, gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw. But Jake didn't pull the trigger, he simply pushed himself away just to revel in the moment he had you near cowering. How did you ever think you could come into his office, step into his territory and ask him for a merger. What fucking bullshit. 

A slight gasp left your lips as you felt hopelessly defeated, watching Jake as he walked away dangerously slow, unloading the gun as he walked, pocketing the bullets before placing the now rendered useless gun on his desk before he dropped his hands back to rest against the oak. Still wearing a shockingly sinister smile.

“Well, there’s three-points you gotta consider to take on this sought of, enterprise. First, you need to pick your crew, they gotta have a range of skills and Do. As. They're. Told.” Jake pushed off his desk, sauntering back to meet you back against the bookcase, trapping you once again as his hand came to cup your chin lightly, looking up into his emerald eyes you couldn’t help but whimper quietly. Now weaponless. 

“Second” Jake growled, “Timing, they gotta be where you want them to be at precisely the moment you want them there, they get there too soon? and they’ll stick out like dog’s balls, get there too late and the whole thing's down shitter now isn’t it?” His lips were practically ghosting yours as he leaned down to meet your height. 

“Then there’s the all-important third element.” It was the hand that snaked itself around your throat that had you audibly hissing, it made Jakes slacks all the more tighter listening to the small whimpers you let escape as he constricted your airways–wanting to see just how far he could push you before you broke and pleaded mercy. “Someone's gotta be in control.” Jake didn't hate you, nor did he like you, but there was an affinity of some sort there that he couldn't deny. 

You'd always been the one who challenged him despite your youth, despite your inability to understand this was a man's world. You'd never make it on your own, Jake knew that, he knew that was the very reason why you were here. The second Jake had realised your father wasn't around–he knew why you’d come to him. He didn't have to ask nor did you have to say it, but he didn't have any intention of making this easy for you. 

“Someone’s gotta see the whole enterprise playing out like a general, directing his troops.” Jake let his hand dip from its grasp around your neck, lowering it slowly to rest against your hips, pulling you flush against him as his head still tilted slightly to meet your lips, not fully connecting his mouth with yours but close enough to make you crave his touch. “But pretty girl, the most import thing you need to run an enterprise like this, the thing I have by the fucking bucket load.” 

Jake met your gaze momentarily, searching your eyes for the very thing he hoped you’d give him, permission. Whispering one final word against your lips as his hands worked to pull up the silk of your dress to expose your legs, Jake ‘The Hangman’ Seresin smashed his lips roughly against yours as your arms flew up to wrap around his neck, feverously engulfed in his charm alone, you were screwed, the kingpin of Fitzroy now had you undeniably under his charismatic charm. Like he always had since you’d first met him all those years ago in your father's study. The one you were never allowed in, the one that wasn't supposed to ever be yours. But had ultimately become. 

“Confidence.”

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

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[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 10 - Part Two

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 6,819

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. Smut.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

July 2021

There was a dull ache in Nat’s body as she slowly awoke, stretching out her limbs to take away that pain from how she’d been curled up in bed. Once she was comfortable, her eyelids slowly fluttered open and she saw the surroundings of the white bedroom, immediately reminding her where she was and at that one thought, a smile appeared on her lips. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up in his bed, seeing that stunning view of the California hills out his window, but it was the first time that she was completely comfortable being here and her smile only grew when she turned to look at the sleeping figure next to her. Chris’ long eyelashes were resting against his cheek while his mouth had fallen open and he was snoring softly. One arm was splayed out next to him while the other rested on his bare tattoo covered chest. Nat wanted nothing more than to just touch him, to confirm to herself that this was real and he finally was back with her, and when he stirred in his sleep, she got the chance to do just that. 

Knowing that he was drifting in and out of sleep allowed her to scoot her body right up next to him, wrapping her arms around his thick middle while he just lazily hummed, not even opening his eyes while he immediately let his arms come to hold her and his face nuzzled against her messy curls. Nat just laid there, breathing in his scent as she told herself just how real this was and that the months of being apart were finally over. 

It was almost funny, if she thought about it long enough. Finding it comical that she was technically in the home of one of the biggest movie stars in the country with his arms wrapped around her. But somehow to Nat, she couldn’t seem to find it in herself that it was true because to her, he was just Chris… that wonderful heart of gold man who laughed over chips and salsa with her. He had become so much more to her that she could have even imagined months ago. He had basically become her best friend and that made moments like this so much better than she could have ever dreamed. 

His voice was raspy with sleep and low when he finally murmured, “Hi Nattie.” His face was still buried in her hair, but his fingers were moving against her sides, dancing over the bare skin there. 

She smiled, eyes following him when he moved his face out of her hair. His blue eyes were hazy in the early light as he yawned, then smiled at her while she whispered, “Morning baby.” 

“I sure do like waking up and seeing you right here by me,” he murmured, a dopey smile on his face that she knew he’d deny anytime she brought it up. 

“Good, because I’m planning on staying here,” she told him.  

She felt Chris’ hand move underneath her chin, gently tilting it up so he could lean down and kiss her softly. Nat loved the slow way he was kissing her, showing that he wasn’t in a hurry, both of them finally having all the time in the world and soaking up every bit of it. Every bit of her body felt good, curled up against him in that soft white bed while his lips caressed hers in the most perfect way. 

“I didn’t get a chance,” Chris stopped, leaning his lips down to kiss at her bare shoulder before finishing, “to see your tattoos last night.” 

She laughed, her hand moving to the back of his head. She found herself wishing for it to be longer again and looked forward to when it’d grow in again, no longer resembling the aftermath of the Lloyd styling. “Well considering I pretty much haven’t had clothes on since I got to your house last night, I’d say you had plenty of chances,” she smirked. 

“I was kind of focused on something else.” 

“Oh really? What might that have been?” 

“Something I plan on doing a lot more this weekend,” he whispered, nipping at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “But I’m serious Nattie, I want you to show me.” 

“I have this one on my shoulder,” she began, turning slightly to show him the tattoo on her back. “It says ‘Sisters’ in Hungarian. Heather, Alex and I all have it.” 

Chris nodded before his hand moved to her ribs, curling around the side of her body near her arm. “What about this one?” 

“Oh god, that one is so stupid. I was twenty and wanted a tattoo and apparently all I could think of getting was an airplane because I wanted to travel the world,” she huffed, shaking her head at how ridiculous it was. 

“It looks like a painful spot to get it,” Chris whispered, his fingers tracing the delicate outline of the plane.

“I don’t know, I was drunk,” she shrugged. 

His lips twitched as he huffed out a laugh before he yawned, then offered, “If you want to get it removed, I have a good person I go to.” 

“Honestly it doesn’t show much so it doesn’t really bother me,” she explained, pushing her unruly hair back behind her shoulders. “I had an appointment to get one on my hip but then COVID happened so that one hasn’t happened yet.” 

Chris nodded, nothing but complete understanding in his eyes as he spoke, “I love it. I just love art on our bodies, I think it’s such a beautiful thing.” 

Nat smiled as she listened to him, before she bit her lip and told him, “I want to finally have a good look at all of yours.” 

Chris was eager to share, pulling the blanket down off of his torso to show Nat each and every black line that littered his body, explaining the significance of each one. But somehow through it, she found herself listening less to the explanations, and seeing more the passion and joy that came through as he spoke. It was one of the many things she was crazy about with him, just loving how sensitive and passionate he was about specific things in his life, and it made her blush to think that she might become one of those things. 

At the lull in the conversation, Chris glanced over his shoulder at where Dodger was snoring happily on the couch against the far wall. “Are you hungry? I’d love to take you out for breakfast,” he finally asked her. 

Nat shrugged, knowing it probably wasn’t the best idea, especially in the aftermath of last month’s blow up. “We could just make some breakfast here and stay in,” she suggested. 

He frowned, voice quiet as he reminded her, “I don’t have any groceries here.” 

“Yeah you do,” she smiled sheepishly and shrugged at his curious look. “I went shopping the other day and got you some things. I figured you’d be tired coming back here and wouldn’t feel like getting groceries.” 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” 

“Oh I don’t joke about ice cream, Chris. You should know this by now,” she told him, her voice dry as she smirked. 

Nat loved watching the way his eyes scrunched up as he barked out that infectious laugh, but that laugh was replaced with a soft smile and a tender look in his eyes once they had pulled on some comfortable clothes and made it to the kitchen and he finally got to see just how much she’d filled his kitchen with so many of the things she knew that he loved. Without saying a word, he just walked over to her, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against his chest, kissing her temple as he mumbled, “Thank you, Nattie.” 

She wanted to stay in this bubble for the rest of her life, just here with him, no responsibilities or outside voices echoing in their minds. It was almost comical how easily they fell into step with each other, making and eating breakfast side by side until Dodger wandered out of the bedroom and Chris grabbed his leash to go on a quick walk. She cleaned up and headed into the laundry room, finding his bags from Scott, and started a load of his laundry. 

They spent the rest of the morning enjoying each other but doing their own things, Nat drawing on the couch while watching The Office while Chris answered some emails and then ended up on the piano, until he wandered back over and laid down next to her with a deep yawn. 

She looked over at him, smiling as she saw his arm slung over her hips from where he laid between the back cushion of the overstuffed couch and herself. “I’m sure you’re probably so tired,” she murmured, moving a hand to run through his dark hair as his eyes slipped shut for a moment. 

His eyes opened as he frowned at himself and sighed, “I thought I shook most of my jetlag the past few days in Boston but I guess not.” 

“Why don’t you take a nap?” She asked him quietly. 

He nodded, yawning as he shrugged, “I might,” and despite the lack of commitment in his phrasing, she knew he’d be asleep within seconds. 

And she was right, smirking to herself when she heard – and felt – his breathing even out as he slipped to sleep next to her. She lost track of time, moving from piece to piece as she drew on her iPad, half-watched the marathon of The Office, and listened to his soft snores, chuckling to herself as Dodger joined in from his spot on his own bed. 

Nat felt his arm twitch against her, and with a quick glance at the time, she realized it’d been almost two hours since he fell asleep next to her. His breaths were still deeper than normal and his eyes were still shut, but his arm tightened around her. 

“I take it someone’s awake,” she whispered, smiling when his eyes opened and found her immediately, his lips turning into a half-grin before he moved a hand to rub his eyes. “Did you have a good nap?” 

“Mhmm,” he yawned, before he leaned up and pressed his lips to her cheek before moving down to press them to her neck.

“Chris! Don’t mess up my drawing!” 

He smirked against her chin, his voice low as he informed her, “I’m not messing it up, I’m just kissing you. You’re the one drawing.” 

“Well, you’re making me mess up,” she sighed, but smiled to herself as he kept up with the kisses, then met his eyes as he raised a single brow at her. “Why don’t you go back to sleep instead of wreaking havoc on my art?” 

“It’s kind of hard to think about sleep when you’re lying here looking so fuckin’ good in my shirt,” he shrugged, arm tightening around her hip minutely. 

“Oh is that so?” 

“Yes that’s so.” 

He proved his point by bringing his lips to kiss her sweetly while his hand rested on her bare thigh, following her skin up and slipping underneath the white tee shirt that hung loosely on her frame. Nat felt his big palm rest on her waist, holding her in place while he started kissing her deeper. 

He gently plucked the iPad from her hands, placing it on the side table behind the arm of the couch before he shifted them so he was laying farther up the couch on his side, hovering over her while Nat was on her back below him. 

As if Chris wasn’t attracted to her enough, seeing that white tee shirt of his had almost a primal feeling running through him. He loved seeing that piece of fabric that signified that she was his and he was the only one seeing her wearing it with her pink rosy nipples pressing against the thin fabric as she called out his name. Although Nat didn’t know any of those thoughts were running through his brain at the moment, she could tell by the way his hands were rubbing across her, the soft tee shirt being the only thing separating his hands from her skin, that he liked that shirt on her and she knew it wouldn’t be the only time she was in it. 

Nat leaned her head back, opening up her neck for his lips to attach to as his hand slipped underneath that shirt and she finally felt his touch rubbing along her skin. She couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his hands rubbing along her skin, toying with her nipples and absolutely driving her wild. That mixed with the little bites and sucks he was littering along her neck had her eyelids fluttering closed as she sighed softly. 

But Chris seemed to want more than that, his hand starting to travel south and grabbed the waistband of her panties and worked on peeling them down her long legs. She pulled her knees up, letting him get them off and tossed onto the floor without pulling his lips away from her skin. Nat knew what he was doing and laid down one leg on the comfortable couch while the other lazily rested against his body, helping to open herself up to him. 

She could feel herself clenching from just the feeling of his big hand cupping her for a long moment, just feeling her in his hand while he moved his lips to kiss along her jaw. Nat was already so turned on for him, but when his index finger pushed between her folds and traced along the length of her wet core, she was shivering in his arms as she whimpered his name. 

“I want to learn all the things you like, Nattie,” he told her, his low voice sending a shiver down her spine.  “I want to know every spot that drives you wild.” 

Nat’s chest was already heaving as his finger just kept teasing her, rubbing gently along her core and learning the feel of her. She instinctively grabbed onto his forearm, just needing something to hold and felt his firm muscles move as he kept teasing her. All of it just felt so good from his warm body pressed against her side, his low voice crooning in her ear and having his loving touch on every inch of her body. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, baby,” he murmured, almost chuckling at the end as she gasped. 

But there was a good reason she was gasping as he pushed a finger inside of her before adding a second only a few moments later before he slowly stroked her, causing Nat to let out a strangled, “Oh fuck, Chris.” 

“You like that? Is that a good spot, Nattie?” 

“Y-Yes, right there,” she encouraged, head falling back against the couch as her eyes slipped shut. “Go faster.” 

He huffed out a laugh, his head dipping to press nipping kisses to her neck before murmuring, “Anything my girl wants.” 

She could feel her whole body tightening, getting pent up from just how good this felt. It wasn’t as if it was the first time she had been thinking of Chris with her fingers inside herself, even having his voice talking her through it a few times, but this was so much better. She actually got him and nothing was better than that. 

“Remember when you touched yourself for me?” He suddenly spoke, reminding her of that phone call in June. “I remember hearing you moan and wishing I got to see your face but now I get to.” 

But Nat couldn’t respond to that, she was too busy focusing on the pleasure running through her, feeling every sense in her body heightened. It wasn’t just what his fingers were doing that was driving her wild though. It was him and all he meant to her. He had become her best friend over the past few months, learning everything about her and seeming to just… enjoy her. It was something brand new to her, never having experienced anything even close to that before with a partner and it had made her feel wanted, accepted and just plain liked. 

She felt as if everytime he picked up that phone, he had wanted to talk to her. He valued her thoughts and opinions when he’d asked her questions and was genuinely interested in what was going on in her life, loving every little story she told about her nieces or when she gushed about the new gouache paint color she’d gotten that was just perfect. He cared about her in every sense of the word and she knew it, she felt it from him. But this was that last piece, getting to physically be together that was driving her over the edge and making her feel like she was on cloud nine. 

“I missed you so damn much, Nattie. I thought of you so many nights when I was alone,” he murmured just before he nipped at her neck and moved to press his lips to hers for a momentary, deep kiss, then pulled back. “So fuckin’ happy I’m back here with you.” 

And as if she wasn’t already wanting every single thing he was giving her, that only made her even more weak at the knees. Nat wanted to tell him she felt the same, but no words came out of her mouth, only a loud cry of pleasure as he kept his fingers rubbing oh so perfectly against her. 

“Chris, please,” she gasped, nails digging into his forearm helplessly.

“Tell me what you want,” he encouraged, voice softer than it had been. 

And although she couldn’t muster the strength to tell him, she grabbed his hand and moved it up where she wanted it, giving Chris the hint while his soaked finger started rubbing circles along that sensitive button. Instantly Nat’s head tipped back farther into the couch pillow, her back arching as she ached for more friction, telling him, “A little harder.” 

Chris did exactly as she said, pushing just a little bit harder as he rubbed those circles that had Nat moaning out obscenely. He loved getting to learn her, wanting to be able to know what she liked as if it was the back of his hand but it didn’t take a lot of brain power to figure out that this must have been pretty high on the list for her judging by the way she kept spreading her legs and crying out his name over and over again. He kept up his movements, not changing one thing as he kept his face away from hers, dying to kiss her but needing to be able to see her face when she hit that peak which happened sooner than he thought as her eyes scrunched up and her whole body tightened. 

She could hardly process how hard she came, seeing stars from behind her eyelids as the only thing she focused on was the perfect way he was touching her, working her through her peak as her body slowly unwound and relaxed onto the couch. Nat smiled when she felt his lips return to her skin, kissing her neck before moving up to her swollen lips. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck, needing to hold him close as they kissed softly until he finally pulled away enough to look at her and ask, “Feeling good?” 

“Yeah but now I’m going to be the one who needs a nap,” she laughed, opening her eyes again finally. 

He slowly moved to lay on his side next to her, putting her between him and the back of the couch. “Do you mind if I go shower?” He finally asked her quietly, just as her eyelids grew heavy. “I haven’t taken one since landing yesterday and I desperately need one.” 

She smirked, opening her eyes and turning to look at him. “After what you just did to me I think I need one first,” she murmured, slipping her hand over to the back of his shoulder. 

Chris pursed his lips, leaning into her touch before he shrugged and suggested, “Or we could just take one together.” 

Nat’s head moved, resting on the cushion to stare at the high ceiling above them. Her eyes darted to the side, meeting Chris’ as she asked, “I don’t know, can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself?” 

“Probably not,” he smirked with an amused look in his eyes. 

She laughed as she sat up, Chris following her lead as she told him, “Well in that case it’s a deal.” 

They made their way out of the living room, heading into Chris’ room at the end of the hallway and slipping into his bathroom. She still couldn’t get over the sheer size of the bathroom, it’d been something that surprised her in May when she quickly gathered herself before she tried to leave after they spent the night together. But it truly hadn’t registered until the previous month, when she stayed at his place for a few nights after her car and purse got stolen until she felt comfortable returning to her apartment. The bathroom itself was bigger than her bedroom at her apartment, and the shower was bigger than any she’d ever seen before.

But it clearly wasn’t something even on Chris’ mind as he opened the door into the marble shower, turning on the water before he reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. She still was standing there marveling over how incredible the space was while Chris shucked the rest of his clothing and climbed in underneath the warm spray before Nat pulled off the white tee shirt of his and tossed it over with his other pile of clothing and got in after him. 

Almost immediately his arms came around her waist, pulling her up against him so he could press a kiss to the top of her bare shoulder and a matching on her cheek, making Nat smile brighter than the California sunshine out the window. She stood up on her toes, kissing his lips and reminding him, “It is so much better kissing you without that caterpillar above your upper lip.” 

“You know that saying about protesting too much? I think that’s you and the mustache,” he chuckled, smirking down at her. “Don’t lie Nat, it secretly turned you on.” 

She raised a single eyebrow as she looked up into his eyes, a near-scowl on her lips as she confessed to him, “Honestly you should just be lucky I was turned on while having to look at that hideous thing before.” 

He shook his head, moving away from her to duck under the stream of hot water, making his short hair stick to his forehead. “At least you met me when I had the beard otherwise I would have probably sent you screaming,” he called over his shoulder to her. 

Nat reached for the bottle of shampoo she’d left for herself earlier, pumping some into her hand. “Well once you got it, it knocked you down in my favorite voice actor rankings for sure,” she admitted, smirking as he met her eyes with a frown. 

“Oh there’s a ranking? So where do I rank on this list?” 

“Maybe fourth or fifth,” she shrugged, working the shampoo through her hair as he stared at her. 

“Fourth or fifth?!” He asked, voice incredulous. “I’m literally naked in a shower with you right now and you’re going to tell me I rank fourth or fifth?” 

She laughed, biting her lip with a smirk before she reminded him, “Remember you drive a Tesla so that’s another point docked for being a snob.” 

The running water trailed down Chris’ broad, muscular back before he turned, facing her as she washed her hair. “So what do I have to do to get up at least in the top three?” He asked, jutting his chin out as he looked at her. 

Nat pursed her lips and shrugged, unable to stop herself from teasing himself a bit as she mused, “That’s for you to figure out.” 

Chris smirked, almost dangerously as their eyes remained locked on the other’s. She knew exactly what he was thinking and her brain was stuck there as well, on the long night they’d just spent together and what he’d just done to her on his couch. But before long, Chris shook his head, reaching for his own shampoo and working it through the short hair on his head. 

His eyes kept finding hers as she washed her hair, his once-shock and now cocky attitude turning to amusement as her curls grew from the water and shampoo, the suds likely comically big while she ran her hands through it, making it grow bigger and causing Chris’ loud laughter to echo off the tiled shower. He reached out, running his fingers through the mess of sudsy hair and shaping it up to make it even taller and his laughs to come out even harder. Nat just stuck her tongue out at him before rinsing out the shampoo, washing out the white foam and making her dark curls reappear. 

His voice surprised her when he finally spoke, interrupting her train of thought as she worked her conditioner gently through her curls. He was occupied with the random bottle of body wash she’d stuck in the shower earlier in the week, squeezing some into the palm of his hand as he asked her, “So who is number one?” 

“Number one what?” She replied, tipping her head back under the shower head and rinsing the conditioner out gently.

“On your list?” He clarified, stepping next to her and under the second shower head, washing his body off. 

“Oh that’s easy, Mindy Kaling,” she easily answered, knowing the answer already. “She honestly was the most involved actor I worked with. She loved Disgust so much and was really involved with a lot of the process. We’d go out to lunch all the time and honestly became friends through the process.” 

His shoulders slouched and his head turned to look at her, head tilted down to meet her eyes as she opened them and straightened up. “Damn I thought I was special,” he whispered. 

“I didn’t sleep with Mindy so you still are the only one with that title,” she placated him, smirking as he grinned at those words. 

He handed her the body wash when she pointed to it, watching her as she finished up. “I want to know who these other idiots are who outranked me,” he murmured, eyes trailing over her body. 

“Tina Fey is number two. She brought me doughnuts a lot,” Nat remembered, smiling at the thought. She reached for the shower wand, moving it over her body before she turned the water off. “And then Samuel L. Jackson is number three. I only met him once but he’s Mace Windu, so he just automatically gets a high ranking.” 

“I’ll allow that,” Chris nodded to himself. He opened the shower door, grabbing towels as the colder air rushed inside the steamy shower. He ran the towel over his hair and face as he stepped into the bathroom, holding it open for Nat as she wrapped it around herself, then reached for her hair towel before following him. “So am I at least number four?” 

“Yeah, I’ll put you in fourth,” she agreed, smirking to herself. 

“So basically what I’m hearing is that I just need to bring you doughnuts and be in Star Wars and then I can move up to second place,” he began, pausing until she nodded in confirmation, making him laugh. “That’s doable.” 

Chris’ laugh echoed through the bathroom as he stepped into his closet, drawers opening as he found clothes for himself. Nat headed into his bedroom, finding her bag near the couch against the far wall, and she began pulling clothes on as well. She’d just made her way back into the bathroom to hang up her towels and begin taming her hair when he reappeared, dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a faded t-shirt, brown hair sticking up all over the place as it dried haphazardly. 

There was something about this that just felt so… good. Sure last night had been wonderful, the excitement of Chris coming back and actually getting to see him in person again, not to mention how incredible it was to be tucked in his bed, being fully connected to one another. But this was different. Today had just been slow and easy, doing laundry, watching TV, and taking a shower. Just normal things, but after so long apart and never having been able to have these moments until months in, it just felt so natural and so right. 

As they moved around each other in the bathroom, Nat drying her curls and Chris pulling out his clippers to shape his stubble that was growing in, she realized just how close they’d become. How he truly had become her best friend in every sense of the word. But that one nagging part of her brain couldn’t help but wonder if he was in just as deep as she was. Chris was in a different world, no doubt having women throw themselves at him constantly and most likely getting his way with most things. She knew that he cared about her but Nat felt anxious, wondering if he was planning on this being a deep committed relationship. 

This kept filtering through her head once they were in the kitchen making dinner together. Nat kept her mouth shut, just listening to the sound of Chris softly singing to the song stuck in his head while she put the chicken in the hot pan on the burner before turning back to the counter, chopping the parsley slowly. Normally Nat wasn’t an anxious person… in fact quite the opposite. She had always been able to just go with the flow, beating to her own drum as she rolled through life. She wasn’t afraid of her emotions, feeling them all so deeply and able to express them so easily, but there was a piece of this that did cause anxiety in her. 

What if he rejected her? 

What if a relationship wasn’t what he wanted, or if this was some temporary thing that he was just filling his time with? If she had been in a more logical state of mind, it would have not even been a thought, his actions proving for months that he wanted her and all that came with her. But the lack of clarity and knots in her stomach had her brain kicking into high gear on overthinking. 

She glanced up, seeing where he had his back to her as he washed the green beans underneath the faucet while Dodger paced back and forth by his legs. She watched the muscles ripple beneath his thin, worn shirt as he moved back and forth between the package of green beans and the cutting board. His eyes occasionally drifted down to Dodger at his feet, his laugh echoing through the open space as he stepped around the dog. Nat swallowed nervously, voice timid as she asked,  “Chris?” 

“Yeah?” He replied easily, tilting his head but barely looking at her as he shut the water off, holding a single green bean in his hand as he smirked down at Dodger. “Hey bubba, you want a snack? You want one of these?” 

“Chris, we’re…” she paused, hesitating enough that Chris turned to look at her fully, brows furrowed. “We’re….dating now, right? Like we’re doing this?” 

He shrugged, a grin pulling on his lips while he placed the last green bean on the cutting board next to him. “I was under the impression we already were,” he told her. 

Nat sighed, shaking her head as she insisted, “I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” Chris shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was thinking we had been for a while now.” 

Nat nodded, biting her lip to stop the smile from overtaking her expression. “I kind of did too, but I just, wasn’t sure I guess so I wanted to ask,” she replied. 

“If it helps to clarify, I want us to be dating because I only want you,” Chris explained, pushing himself up from where he’d been resting the small of his back against the marble countertops, crossing the distance to stand in front of Nat. His hand reached out for her own, pulling her closer to him. 

“I want that too,” she murmured, unable to help the smile this time as she looked into his eyes. 

She watched as Chris moved both of his warm hands to cup her cheeks while Dodger came to sit by their feet. Nat just looked up into his eyes for a long moment as his thumbs rubbed softly against her cheeks before he leaned down to kiss her deeply as if to seal that spoken commitment between them. The warmth that filled her stayed there throughout dinner, Chris holding one of her hands across the table as they ate together and talked effortlessly but that talking turned to kissing once their dishes were in the sink and that kissing landed them back on the couch where they had been earlier. 

Nat’s sweatpants and panties were discarded before they had even made it to the couch, the only thing on her body being the thin cami that had been buried at the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t pull her lips away from his passionate kisses as she blindly reached for his Nike shorts, Chris lifting his lips so she could get rid of them as well as his boxers before he sat back down as she climbed on his lap. 

His hands slipped underneath the light green cami, holding onto her waist while Nat’s arms slipped around his neck, pressing her body fully into him while their passionate kissing continued. 

It was so easy for Nat to hand her whole heart over to him, trusting him in every way. He’d hardly ever let her down, proving time and time again just how thoughtful he was, how he could apologize when needed, and just how deeply he cared for her. She knew it hadn’t been a mistake trusting him and here she was again, putty in his hands. She rolled her bare hips down into his lap, feeling his hardness underneath her and only managing to get her even wetter than she already was. 

Chris pulled his lips away from hers, his blue eyes bleary as he leaned his head back against the cushion and looked at her. She watched his eyes drop down, following along the lines of her neck before lingering on where her nipples were poking through the thin material and he moved a hand from her waist to come up and pull the loose fabric down, exposing her bare chest to the cool air of the room. Her nipples hardened quickly, even before he dipped his head down, lips meeting her bare skin just as Nat moved a hand down, holding him in place as she lowered herself down onto him. 

Almost immediately, Nat’s head tilted back as she moaned loudly. It was the first time she was feeling him without any barrier and feeling the warmth of his cock inside her was enough to have her shivering on his lap and by the squeeze of his tight grip on her waist, she figured out that he was feeling the exact same glorious feeling. She just sat there for a long moment, adjusting to the slight pleasurable sting of him stretching her while they each caught their breath. 

“Nattie,” he groaned, nipping at her chest. “You feel so fuckin’ good.” 

She moved slightly on him, feeling the sting turn into pure pleasure as she moaned, “So do you, baby.” 

Chris didn’t verbally respond, instead just taking the moment to peel off the bunch up cami and toss it to the floor, allowing him to litter kisses across Nat’s chest before her hands grasped at his broad shoulders and she shifted her weight on his lap. Nat pushed herself more onto her knees, allowing her to start moving her hips up and down, sliding herself along his length and making moans pour from each other's lips. 

It felt so good to be working herself along his hard length, but she knew that it felt even better because of the person she was sharing this moment with. It was right there in her heart, those three little words that were begging to come out. She knew she loved him, she knew that more than she knew anything else, but what she didn’t know is that he felt exactly the same way and had those same words rattling around in his head. 

But she told herself it wasn’t the right time with them having barely been back together, barely hitting the twenty-four hour mark just now, and she instead pushed those words back down, instead letting out a soft moan of his name as she bounced up and down on his lap. It was all so good, her body feeling like it was on fire as Chris’ firm grasp helped lift her up and down as he pressed messy kisses along her collar bone. 

Everything just felt too good and soon her knees were buckling as she faltered in her rhythmic movements. Feeling her stuttered movements, Chris held onto her waist even tighter, gently pulling her off of his hard cock and laid her on the couch right next to where he was sitting before moving to hover over her. Nat was already feeling weak but when he pushed himself back inside her and she heard his low grunt mixed with the thud of his necklace hitting against his chest, she knew that she was almost done for and with him changing his angle to drag against that sensitive bundle of nerves she couldn’t hang on any longer. 

She was grabbing onto him as she cried out loudly, eyes pressing shut tight as she hit her peak, the action making Chris groan from how tight her walls were squeezing him. Nat was panting as her eyes slowly fluttered back open, just enjoying the sight of him plowing into her harder and harder as he got close to his own edge, but seemed to suddenly remember the lack of protection between them and pulled out of her. 

Wanting to be the one who got him over that amazing edge, Nat reached out to palm his throbbing cock, pumping her hand up and down until he was moaning her name while he spilled his essence onto her with his loud cries. Nat just watched as he sat down between her legs, rubbing a hand over his short hair while he tried to catch his breath. She reached out for him lazily, just wanting to feel him close but he took her hand, pressing a kiss in the palm of her hand before telling her, “I’ll be right back, baby.” 

And he was, heading toward the kitchen before returning a moment later with a damp paper towel, cleaning her off meticulously before he folded up the paper towel and left it on the coffee table to be dealt with later. Nat smiled widely as he came back to lay on the couch, maneuvering them so that he was laying on his back while she laid face down on his chest while they basked in the afterglow of how they were feeling. 

She pressed a few soft kisses to the crook of his neck before he nuzzled his nose against her face, getting her attention and making her look up so he could kiss her pink lips. Nat felt his hands running down her bare back, coming to rest on her round cheeks where he rubbed his hands softly as they kissed over and over again. 

She never wanted to leave here, never wanted to leave his embrace, be as far as an arm’s length from him. She never wanted to forget the way his lips felt against hers, never wanted to forget the way he sighed as they kissed, then smirked before he deepened it. She never wanted to forget the sound of his breaths, the slight hitch in them as she moved her hand below his shirt. She never wanted to forget the sound of his laugh, the one that echoed in her mind nearly all the time. She didn’t know how she’d ever live without any of this, and she never wanted to try to figure it out.

A/N: We love them so so so much! We are so thrilled to finally be to this point and sharing these chapters with you all! As a reminder, feel free to send in asks for them at any time! Thank you all for reading!!

#in living color #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #original female character #chris e #chris evans ff #chris evan fanfiction #real person fanfiction #chris evans fic #real person fiction #fic rec #chris evans story #chris evans #cevans #chris evans x smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x oc #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #imagine #chris evans x original character #original content #ofc #rpf #chris evans x reader #real life chris evans #pixar au

[redrydersrequiem]

Golden eyed phantom ch 1

Pairing Druig x reader

Rating explicit 18+ only minors ageless blank and non unadapted blogs will be blocked.

Plot: phantom of the opera au

Warnings: Some smut (im still learning how so go easy on me) fingering, dream sex, mind control but not dark)

The opera de popular was one of the crown jewels of paris, a place where dreams and nightmares can become a reality. It’s also where young (y/n) (l/n) found themselves living after the untimely death of their only living relative, their father.With no living family and no prospective husband (y/n) would have been homeless if not for Madame Ajak,the kindly dance instructor of the opera and a dear friend to the girls late father.

Madame Ajak became the mother you never knew, kind, caring, always able to cure any physical ailment that seemed to bother her or anyone else, with Madame came Sersi. She was another girl that had grown up in the opera. Madame Ajak was unable to have children of her own so she adopted Sersi when she was just a baby. The young woman was only a few years older then (y/n) and the two became fast friends. Sersi showed you the ins and outs of the opera house, really the ins and outs of Paris. Many times she would take you out and about to learn about your new home and everything in it including the rest of the people that would make up your new family. The first members you met came in the form of Gilgamesh and Thena.

Gilgamesh was the chief of security for the opera house. He was a giant boulder of a man well built and very intimidating at first glance, that is until he smiles at you and turns into the giant teddy bear he is. Always making sure all of us are safe and sneaking in baked goods every now and then. You wouldn’t know just from looking at him but he was an amazing baker, especially his pies they were to die for. With Gilgamesh came his partner Thena,she was gorgeous a goddess without even trying. She was the stunt, fighting and weapons expert for the opera and many other production houses in Paris. Many people thought she was a model but the mere thought made her grimace, “Why would I want to be a model and have to care what everyone thought of me?” Even though she had a tough exterior she was also very kind in her ways. Thena was determined for all of us younger girls at the opera to be able to protect ourselves, teaching everyone basic self defense and warning signs and so on and so forth. She was truly a ferocious mama bear if she wanted to be, to you she just became a protective aunt.

Next up was, without a doubt, your favorite trio, Phastos,Sprite and Makkari. All three worked backstage, keeping the opera house running as fabulously as it does. Phastos was the head engineer/ prop master. If something needed to be built he was the guy, his creations awe inspiring, some looking as though they had come straight out of the future, but he was still humble enough to answer any questions you or anyone had about the devices. Alongside Phastos worked sprite. She was young that was undeniable but boy was she talented, A true artist she was the head set designer and painter. Everything she created was so stunning you couldn’t even tell it wasn’t real. While Phastos was somewhat humble, Sprite was spunky, quick witted and sharp tongue when wronged. She halted being looked down on because of how young she looked and would lay into anyone who belittled her.

Makkari was a completely different story, even though she was deaf that did not stop her. Always with a kind smile on her face she ran around helping pull everything together. She was the resident lighting and stage hand always in the right place at the right time, almost like there were seven of her. When she wasn’t working she would be in the shopping district, dragging (y/n) with her to oogle all the shiny and sparkly Knick knacks, all the beautifully colored fabrics and imports coming in. In fact that's how Kingo was introduced.

Kingo was a fashionista, a real eye for how to make everyone look their best with one look.he was the opera's resident costume designer / understudy. Kingo dreamed of being on stage; he knew all the words, all the songs, everything, but sadly his time in the spotlight had not yet come. Everyone always reassured him his time would come, in fact you would always run lines with him whenever he was feeling down, he was over the top dramatic for sure but so entertaining. Probably the only thing more entertaining was picking on him with sprite and makkari. His reaction to the twos joke always brought a smile to your face, and was almost a bonding experience with the other girl.

During the day there was enough to distract you from your sullen thoughts. In particular the formation of a new found family, always there to relieve you of your boredom and loneliness but at night it was a different story. About a month after you had arrived you sat in the opera's small chapel, lighting a candle for your fathers soul. You guess your gentle weeping is what brought forth the angel's song, but all you really remember is the gentle glowing gold of the candles or at least you think it was the candles but you didn't really care as the feelings of calm wash over you with the soft timber of the angel's voice. At night or really whenever you were alone the angel would speak to you. Teach you the ways of the opera house and the music that went along with it. He was a mystic presence, always there but never in reach.

He invaded your whole life, when not learning from him at night your dreams started turning to him.

It would start with his voice, hearing it in your head as you drifted to sleep, the scene would change to a candle lit backdrop, soft smells of vanilla fill the air, a dreamy feeling wanders around you, then you would feel hands wrap around you. They were strong, long fingers as they wandered up and down your frame. You dare not turn around not wanting the feelings he provokes from you to end too quickly.

You watch as those glorious hands gently slide up your leg taking your thin night shift with them until they reach your core. A branding iron of heat in eloping you as he probes you. Fingers lightly playing with your clit as his lips caressed your ear, words ringing through your very soul it felt

“My beautiful beautiful muse, I've waited so long for you. I’ll never forget the day I first heard your voice, it was like hearing a blessing.”

You couldn’t even articulate words to reply to him shivering as hard as you were from merrily his touch.

“I can not wait for the day you truly belong to me. Mind. Body. And soul”

You feel his fingers stroking in tune to his words. Marking his point deep within your walls, but before you are able to climb to the peak a loud ringing sounds from beside you

“Ignore it”

You try of course but the ringing doesn’t stop. With each ring the scene around you shakes, deteriorating back into the blackness that waits behind your rapidly opening eyes. You sit up in shock, eyes trying to adjust to your bedroom as your alarm rings beside you. Your body still shivering from the after effects of the dream you just had.

Five years had passed, under your teachers guidance your gift bloomed but the only people you would even attempt to try to sing for would be your new family, and that was only light humming. The dreams became normal as well. Usually they happened after working with your mysterious and gracious master. You never learned anything more about him. All you knew was his voice but the one in your dreams seemed to evolve.

First was his hands and then his arms then his legs,his back,even a head of dark brown hair. But never his face. It was starting to vex you honestly, every time waking up from the pure euphoria of those dreams too have reality slap you in the face of how lonely you felt. Not that your new family did not appease your heart, in fact being with them was as natural as breathing. To be honest you couldn't describe what was wrong with you, all you could summarize it as was that it felt like part of you was missing.

A week after your 24th birthday the new owners of the opera appeared and with them came someone familiar.

“Listen up everyone!” Mr Richard's the old owner calls to everyone, all of us currently gathered on the main stag rehearsing the latest show

“I would like to introduce the new owners of the opera Monsieur Nelson and Monsieur Murdock.”

Everyone claps all clambering around to get the best views of the two young owners. You had to admit neither were horrible looking, you thought it was interesting for a blind person to want to buy an opera but it made sense to, even if he couldn’t see the performances, listening to them was the next best thing.

‘Thank you all, thank you we are both very happy to start our adventures in the arts.” Mr Nelson started “We would also like to introduce our generous backer Count Ikaris de solar.” Finished Mr Murdock to when a handsome brunette stepped onto stage to everyone’s approval and applause.

“Ikaris?” You gasped out as everyone continued to clap and awe over the count

“Do you know him (y/n)?” Sersi asks confusingly

“Yes, we knew each other as children. We were somewhat close before his family moved away, I can’t believe that's truly him.”

Before you get another word in, a loud clearing of the throat silences everyone. Mademoiselle Ayesha and her pompous son Adam, step through the crowd in their fine costumes. The madame was the current lead soprano for the opera even though you thought she couldn't sing for shit. Her voice was almost as grating as her attitude towards everyone. Sprite assumed the only reason she was given any parts was because of her stupidly wealthy family and late husband. But you choose not to comment on that. The woman stands there covered in gold and signals to the maestro to start at the top of her aria once more

Oh no she's starting again Sersi says from beside you already getting ready to cover her ears. In fact you can even see the housekeeping staff in the audience stuffing Cotton in their ears. The woman doesn’t get but a few lines in the aria her screeching tone ringing through the stage before the rolled up backdrop above her comes crashing down. The light but sturdy fabric lands on top of the soprano pinning her belly flopped to the stage floor to the shocks and screams of everyone around.

They rush to help the woman up but the damage to her pride is too great. She starts screeching about all the previous accidents directed at her, of all the misfortune and indignity that has befallen her and how she will not stand for it any longer. Mr Murdock simply stands there letting the scene unfold as Mr Nelson loses his mind along the diva as she. Stomps her heel gathering all her things, her son and their people and promptly leaving

The new owners were in a tissy (mostly foggy) wondering how they are supposed to open tomorrow with no star. How this whole adventure is now wasted. Madame Ajak promptly interrupts, saving Mr Nelson from a full melt down, handing the duo a dark black envelope with a giant red wax seal on it.

“Where did that come from?” You ask Sersi

“That confirms it then, It must was the phantom”

“The phantom?”

“Have you honestly not heard the others talk about this?

“No?”

She just shakes her head at you before filling you in on the details

“He's a mysterious person, some say he’s a ghost, others a demon but no one knows for sure. They say he's been here forever always making his presence known. In fact the previous owner used to pay him a monthly wage just to appease him, that and that box number 5 be kept empty for him whenever he wishes. Everything was going well but this past couple years he has gotten a little more devious.

“Why?”

No one really knows, and everyone’s afraid to ask or look around afraid they’ll never be seen again.

Before you can ask sersi more your name is being called.

“(Y/n)(l/n) can do it.”

What?” You had missed the conversation between the two new owners and Madame Ajak

One of your dances can replace the star diva from the past 5 years.? Your sure about that?

“Foggy why don't we give the girl a chance”

“Matt this is doing nothing for. My nerves

You stand there like a deer in headlight hoping you could somehow slip to the back and out of sight but Sersi sees you growing anxiety and gently but firmly directs you towards Ajak.

Madame gently took you from her daughter and lead you to the center of the stage

“Madame what,,,,but,, I,,,”

“It will be alright dear. I've heard you practice these last couple of years when you sneak off at night, and i know your teacher has taught ypu well”

“My teacher?”

Ajak just gives you a knowing look before she turns towards the maestro and nods at him leaving you standing there as everyone watches.

You hear quiet cheer from stage left where your little opera family all stand giving you thumbs up and right smiles, trying to ease your nerves, though it doesn’t really help, it's not till you look up towards the grand chandler that that gentle calming glow envelops your senses once more.

“From the top of the aria mademoiselle”

The band picks up and the music begins to play

To be honest you don't remember much after that. It was a whirlwind of activity. Being swept off stage and quickly fitted into costumes, stage managers telling you where you need to stand, color spotting you with lights all the fixing basically to make it seem like you were always meant to be in the role.

You didn't know that while you sang your heart out on stage a certain young count had finally taken notice of you

“(Y/n)?”

“That’s the girl that used to follow you around?” Count Arishem Ikarus’s father ask begrudgingly

“Yes father that's the daughter of that famous violinist tha lived near our old summer home.”

“Well, well we may have found ourselves a diamond in the rough after all. The elder count scrutinizes the crowd all gawking at the peasant, like she's a princess. All he sees is an opportunity to boost his family further, the gears of his plan already forming in his mind.

Phantoms pov

There she is at last! Right where she belongs, my beautiful beautiful muse.

#druig x reader #druig imagine #druig smut #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #druig fanfiction #eternals #eternals x reader #eternals fanfiction #sersi eternals #ikaris x reader #makkari #phantom of the opera

[black-quadrant]

Praise / Kirikagi

🔞 joshaz / joshua kiryu & hazuki mikagi [AO3} this one's for the submissive haz enjoyers

It all started with a small, casual, innocuous compliment.

“You’ve done a good job reforming Shinjuku.”

The words fill him with a warmth he’s not accustomed to feeling. He can’t recall feeling anything like this. It feels… good. Gratifying.

Perhaps it’s also that it’s coming from Joshua. Hazuki can’t imagine having any such reaction to a compliment from anyone else. Simply put, he doesn’t value anyone’s opinion except Joshua’s. Being issued a genuine compliment by Joshua activates something in his mind that’s undeniably pleasurable.

The Higher Plane is not a praise-oriented culture. The only attention Angels receive, if any, is discipline.

Hazuki’s so taken aback that he doesn’t realize he’s forgotten to respond until he notices Joshua’s confused look. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from my leg to the other, Hazuki clears his throat and croaks:

“ Ah—thank you, senpai.”

It’s the strangest sensation that’s affecting him, both physically and mentally.

It leaves him itching for more.

From then on, Hazuki tries to produce opportunities to replicate that feeling, researching (as he is always with his favorite subject) what kinds of things impress and attract Joshua. Hazuki even went so far as to ask Joshua to take him shopping solely to appeal to Joshua’s taste. He’s learned that his senior enjoys dressing people up to his standards. Forced to give up the camo slip-ons but it’s worth it for the compliments Joshua lavished on him, and to be the center of his attention.

The next compliment he receives is more personal. They’re standing close, overlooking 104, when Joshua breathes close to his neck.

“You smell nice.”

Hazuki turns his head to see Joshua smiling coyly up at him, feeling a tingling sensation spreading through his vessel. He must be reacting oddly because Joshua giggles.

“And so cute when you’re flustered.”

Hazuki’s mouth has fallen agape, and heat rushes to his face. Joshua’s eyes illuminate with the epiphany of having connected Haz’s reactions to his actions; he’s weak to praise. Now that he’s discovered this, it’s only downhill from here for his darling little kohai.

“Do you like it when I compliment you?”

Staring dazedly into Joshua’s eyes, Hazuki nods dumbly, confirming it.

“Good…” He seductively draws out the word as he tenderly takes his peer’s face into his hands. “Has anyone ever told you how perfectly tempting your lips look? They’re so full…” Joshua brushes a thumb across the lips in question, and Haz’s knees threaten to buckle. “And soft… I bet they’d feel amazing on mine.” Joshua’s level stare commands Hazuki’s gaze. “Kiss me.” He does without delay, and it takes everything in the smug Composer not to smirk.

Unbeknownst to Hazuki, Joshua’s not just going to indulge him; he’s going to train him. As expected, his eager junior is a fast learner. He follows Joshua’s movements and adapts to his style almost seamlessly, matching his pace and replicating every little maneuver until they’re performing a flawless erotic dance between sucking tongues and biting lips. Joshua breaks free to catch his breath.

“Just as I imagined… you’re amazing, Haz.” The deliberate informality is the icing on the cake. “And the way you move your tongue drives me wild.”

Shinjuku’s Composer can’t think, let alone speak, as another type of pleasure awakens, throbbing between his thighs. The showering of praise is not just ego-boost and positive reinforcement; it’s arousing. Very, very arousing.

And Joshua knows and intends to exploit it.

“Come home with me, pretty bird. I want to praise that hot little mouth of yours more… intimately.”

-

It didn’t take long to coax him out of his clothes—just a few sweet encouraging comments. Hazuki’s body is stunning, all lean and honey-toned skin, so none of his words are forced or empty.

“Look at you…” Joshua drinks him in with both eyes and hands which set out to explore the Angel’s figure. They caress his skin with light barely-there touches, the tips of his fingers raising fine hairs as they wander. He lingers on sensitive areas to see what makes him squirm, and despite Hazuki’s delectable hard-on in view, he doesn’t touch it just yet. It’s then that Shinjuku’s Composer reaches out to touch, going right for his fly.

“I want to please you.”

Joshua’s well aware that Angels have a tendency to be service-oriented, but he’d never considered Hazuki Mikagi among that possibility.

“Who am I to say no to that intoxicating mouth?”

In a flurry of movement, Joshua’s flumped down on the couch, Hazuki’s kneeling between his legs, exposing his cock and peppering it with tiny kisses. It’s clear by the careful and curious approach that the Angel’s never sucked cock before, (though he’s aware of what the act entails) and that knowledge alone swells him to full erection. Hazuki casts him a glance that’s questioning, and Joshua nods affirmingly.

“Make me proud.”

All but swooning at that, Haz licks a stripe up the prominent vein spanning the underside, following it to the bulbous tip and wrapping his lips around it.

Joshua threads his fingers through the choppy blonde spikes atop his head, petting through them as Hazuki slowly dips his head, drawing on what little experience he’s picked up from watching humans to serve his elder.

Joshua lets slip a self-satisfied sigh as he watches Haz’s lips stretch around his girth, and inch by inch disappear. It’s adorable seeing him trying to envelop more than he can handle on his first time. Joshua decides to be merciful and spare him from gagging.

“Easy—it’s not a race. Just being in that wet velvety mouth of yours is heaven enough. Go heavy on the tongue and suck on the head until you get used to me.” His instructions inspire Hazuki to moan, sending a tantalizing vibration through his shaft. He pulls up until he can alternate suckling and swirling his tongue around the flared crown, clumsily but so very determined. Before long, Hazuki’s loosened up and confidently bobbing his head, eyes screwed shut in concentration. He’s so enthusiastically invested that he doesn’t realize he’s got a steady leak of drool trickling out the corners of his mouth down to Joshua’s balls. Or he doesn’t care. Joshua’s sweet nothings are what’s steering him. Joshua’s approval. It’s all feeding a deep-seated need he didn’t know he was missing, flooding him with surge after surge of dopamine.

He’s still stubbornly trying to work more of his length into his mouth. He’s cleared the halfway mark, and beginning to show visible signs of struggle as the head creeps to the back of his throat, and Joshua can feel when it finally eases in when the pressure surrounding his cock tightens. 

Hazuki’s frantic breathing, his face is flushed, and his eyes are glazed with unshed tears, and the picture alone is enough to make Joshua itch to paint his throat white.

“ Yes, just like that… keep it up. You’re doing so good…”

It's a subtle exchange of dominance and submission—but with a softer, spin. But that doesn’t make it any less intense. Hazuki revels in being encouraged and elevated, giving Joshua the power to mold him however he wishes with a stroke of his silver tongue.

Joshua could feel the onset of his orgasm, and as much as he wanted to give into it and fill his cute little kohai’s hungry mouth, his desire to finish inside a tighter orifice won out over primal instinct.

He fists his hand in his hair and grips it in silent demand to stop, inwardly laughing at how wounded those big brown eyes look, almost like he’s afraid he’s disappointed Joshua.

Far from it.

“As much as I adore your mouth, I don’t want to end it there. I’d like to worship that gorgeous body.”

The question hangs, unasked, in the air. Hazuki’s eyes ping-pong between Joshua’s engorged cock jutting out of his pants, dribbling precum (some of which has saturated Hazuki’s tongue), and Joshua’s unwavering leering gaze. Hazuki may be naive but he’s not oblivious to what Joshua’s implying. It’s safe to assume Haz’s never partaken in this activity, so when he mounts Joshua’s lap, Shibuya’s Composer takes the reins without a word. Deft fingers coax Haz’s lips back open to coat them with all the excess saliva and wedge them between the Angel’s asscheeks where the petite hole he’ll be violating resides. Hazuki startles when fingertips make contact, circling the first ring of muscle and teasing the puckered hole with gentle nudges.

Meanwhile, Joshua tucks his blonde head beneath Haz’s chin and laps at his Adam’s apple, giggling as it jumps with every nervous dry swallow.

“Relax. I’ve got you.” In so many ways.  

Joshua allows Hazuki no time to think, layering sensations over each other to ensure that he can’t do anything more than feel and receive. At the same time, he sinks two fingers in his ass and clamps his teeth down on his jugular. Hazuki cringes at hearing himself whimpering with the dawning realization of what embarrassment feels like firsthand. 

Nonetheless, he clings to Joshua and tries not to thrash as his elder probes his insides and sucks mercilessly until he’s left a nice bruise—a mark of possessiveness. Or conquest.

Hazuki’s so hard it aches.

Three fingers wiggle and flick, striking something inside him that’s electrifyingly hot.

Feeling the internal spasming of his walls, Joshua strikes that spot a couple more times.

“You’ll like that much more when it’s my cock rubbing your prostate.” With that, Joshua withdraws his fingers and coats his leaking cock with a mouthful of saliva. He grips Haz’s hip with the other hand to stabilize him, and slowly lowers him down. The second Hazuki begins to tense, he captures his lips in a heated kiss to distract him from the gradually growing pressure of the fat crown pushing through the tight bands of muscle and finally penetrating him.

The Angel’s body convulses and shudders, his ass reflexively clenching. Joshua shushes him while caressing his hip.

“You’re doing great…” A little deeper… “You can take me.” His hole’s stretching with the thickening girth, expanding wider and wider as he sinkers closer and closer to the base.

Hazuki chokes on a broken moan, feeling fuller by the second. Joshua’s cock seems to go on forever.

“All of me.” Hazuki’s panting, but bearing it so well. The pleased Composer kisses his brow.

“You’re being so good for me.” Joshua folds an arm around him and pulls him snugly to his body as he finally sheathes himself to the hilt inside of the now-seated Angel.

“Your ass fits me like a glove.” Hazuki, high on all the praise, is squirming in Joshua’s lap, pulsing inside and out.

“You’re so desperate…” Shibuya’s Composer sprinkles kisses from one collarbone to the other, a giggle in his tone. “I love that for you.” With Hazuki impaled on his cock, Joshua can fuck him effortlessly. Scooping his asscheeks into his palms, he begins to lift and drop him, savoring the sound of slippery skin slapping against his thighs.

“Hands on my shoulders.” Haz does as asked, and buries his face in Joshua’s neck, letting loose a keening moan as his elder takes control of his body to fuse him to his lap, pry his cheeks apart, and pound his ass with wild abandon. From that point on, all Hazuki can do is cling to him, riding the waves of his Composer’s ravenous lust for him and trying not to drown. Every thrust at this new direct angle is hitting his prostate, rapidly increasing his need to release. It’s what he might relate to maddening.

Even Joshua’s breathing is becoming erratic and harsh. 

“Do you want me to cum in you, precious thing?” 

“Please.”

Joshua’s condescending laughter tickles his ear.

"I think if you beg a little more sweetly, I might be convinced."

Haz groans, partly in mourning for his dying ego and partly because his cock’s about to burst.

“Please, senpai. Release inside me. Ejacula—”

Joshua claps a hand over the Angel’s mouth before he can revert to his default formality setting and with a few more deep plunges he peaks, and shoots several loads up inside him.

The pulsations of Joshua’s cock draining his sac are so strong that Hazuki’s ass is throbbing, and his body’s screaming with the urge to cum. Unable to resist the demand, he stuffs his hand between them to mindlessly palm his neglected shaft. Joshua lets him, finding delight in his Angel’s breathless whining and furious strokes, and in having reduced him to a carnal state.

“Look at me, Hazuki.” Haz drags his head up to stare into sinister violet eyes. “I want to watch your face as you cum.” Joshua smirks and casually rocks his hips, savoring how tight the Angel is and riding out the last of his orgasm, graciously lending a hand to help jerk him off. It takes only seconds in Shibuya’s fist—embarrassing by human standards perhaps but the height of flattering to Joshua—and Shinjuku’s shuddering and spilling over their bellies, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, looking beautifully stupid, in ecstasy, and all Joshua’s.

“Bravo… That was incredible.” Joshua sits back to take in the view of his companion. “You were born for this. I think I’ll make you my favorite slut.”

Haz doesn’t understand the term, but by the look in Joshua’s eyes, it’s a form of praise. 

“As long as I remain your favorite.” Haz fires back with a bold confidence that’s, in a word, fuckable. 

Joshua coils the string of his pendant around his finger and smiles deviously.

“Oh, I have no doubt, kohai, you’ll work hard for me and earn it.”

#kirikagi #hazuki mikagi #joshua kiryu #hazjosh #twewy #angels have praise kinks amen

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

Part 4 ❤️

What Deacon didn’t know was about the physical scars Nikki herself carried.

His heart longed to comfort her when she began telling him the story of her previous marriage… She was young - in her early twenties, and by the time she saw the red flags, it was too late to safely escape. When she tried, she was met with a knife to the abdomen that evicerated her intestines. However, Deacon was floored when Nikki told him the marriage’s demise. When her ex husband had grabbed the knife, wielding it to her abdomen, she was a split second faster with her Glock 48, putting a hollow point into his head as she dropped the phone she had dialed 911 with. That was how Nikki’s life was spared.

Nikki noticed mixed emotions in Deacon’s eyes - fear, sadness, compassion, but most of all: complete awe.

“And that is why I have made it a point throughout my entire career to be that calm in the middle of people’s storms. Because the flight nurse that paralyzed and intubated me was my calm in the storm. Him telling me I was in great hands and he was going to take care of me just as if I were his family is the last thing I remember before waking up in the ICU myself.”

Deacon was stunned. He wasn’t sure what to say at first, but he didn’t hesitate to take her hand into his, caressing her hand rubbing her knuckles with his thumb ever so gently.

“Nikki,” Deacon started, “You are the most amazing woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Deacon couldn’t keep himself from falling for her even more when he realized that she truly treated others the way she wanted to be - and had been treated.

That was why, when Deacon walked Nikki up to her front door that night, he embraced her in his arms. When the hug ended, Deacon cradled Nikki’s face with his hands and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“I hope you enjoyed your night tonight,” he said as he looked longingly into her eyes.

Nikki allowed herself to relax into his palm while never breaking her gaze with the tall man.

“This was the best night I have had in a long, long time.” She momentarily thought back; she hadn’t had a serious relationship since she had to shoot her ex-husband. She had gone on a few dates since then, but dating and relationships didn’t sit quite right with her after her last relationship left her fighting for her life - literally.

“I would love to have the honor of taking you out again,” Deacon spoke with a smile.

Nikki reached up and held Deacon’s wrist, squeezing it affectionately. She never broke connection with his hand still caressing her cheek.

“Deacon, I would love to spend another night on a date with you.”

The butterflies the graying man felt in the pit of his stomach and the fluttering in his chest was undeniable. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up with the other hand to caress her opposite cheek as he leaned down and softly pressed his lips to hers.

Any other time, Nikki would have immediately ran in the opposite direction if a man decided to kiss her on the first date.

This time was different though. Deacon’s kiss was longing, but it wasn’t desperate. She had no doubt in her mind that he would take all of her if she gave the hint that was what she wanted, but this kiss was restrained with no indication or pressure of anything further… Not yet at least. His lips against hers were loving. This kiss was innocent. She felt protected with him.

Nikki pulled away first and Deacon pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I know you need to work tomorrow. You should go home so you can get some rest.” Nikki said, breaking the silence.

“I would stay up forever if it meant constant memories with you.”

Nikki smiled and blushed, she stood on her tip toes and kissed Deacon’s bearded cheek, “I had the most amazing time tonight. Thank you so much.”

“Look. At. That. Smile.” Hondo spoke when he saw Deacon walk into the locker room the next morning.

“Brother, she is unimaginable.”

“I take it your date went well.”

“It was the best night I have ever had and I get to do it all again tomorrow night.”

Hondo smiled at his coworker beaming.

“A second date already?”

“Yes, Hondo. I’m telling you, I’m gonna marry that girl.”

“A little soon, isn’t it?” Hondo chuckled. “Regardless, I’m so happy for you.”

Deacon got to spend the first part of his morning telling the rest of 20-David about his date with the girl he claimed he was going to marry.

#christina alonso #david kay #dominic luca #ems #hondo harrelson #imagine #jay harrington #jim street #swat #swat cbs #david deacon kay #deacon kay x reader #deacon #hondo #luca #chris #deacon fanfic #trauma #date #writing #justagirlwhowrytes #deacon imagine #deacon kay #deacon kay imagine

[allzelemonz]

Colors: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’, ‘boy’, and dresses masculinity Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Near sexual encounter, language Warnings: Admiring each other, kissing, references to sex, Micah being possessive in a loving way, sharing clothes, the etiquette of cowboy hats but it’s gay Summary: Micah really can’t think straight when you wear his colors, let alone his clothes.

The rush of wind on your face hits all at once as you face forward in your saddle again. The law is gone now, fallen behind, and you can focus on keeping pace with Micah and Baylock. You holster your weapon as you follow them into the trees and dismount in the safety they provide. Micah chuckles as he comes over to you, placing one hand on your waist while the other pulls your mask from your face. He pulls you in by the thin red fabric to kiss you, letting his hand move to hold your face as his lips attack yours in the rush that comes on from a successful robbery.

He looks over your face when he pulls away, his hand going back to your mask to run the fabric between his fingers as he hums. “Quite a color on ya, darlin’. I like it.”

“That right?”

Micah lets a lopsided grin cover his face. “Ain’t sure if I wanna stare at it er rip it off…” He trails his hand down to your chest, covered by a familiar black dress shirt. “Yer still missin’ somethin’.”

You admire him as he does you. Micah is certainly the possessive sort, the kind to claim what is his without apology. Usually it takes the form of protectiveness and public displays of his intimate affections, but it’s also making sure you look like you’re his. That means wearing his colors, sometimes his clothes. You have no problem with it, especially in moments like this when he looks at you like he wants to take in the dirt without a care in the world. He bought you the bandana, it’s his shirt you’re wearing, but he still thinks there’s room for more. So, in a fluid motion, he swats your hat off of your head and replaces it with his own.

Micah steps back, admiring you as you adjust his hat to fit properly on your head. It’s not the first time you’ve worn it. He came onto you, like he does with many people, but you took his hat off of his head. Not in the way most men would, to irritate him and start a fight, but to carefully put it on yourself and give him a look that made his breath hitch. So seeing the sight again makes him feel just the same way. You settle it crooked, like he does, and meet his stunned eyes. The implications of taking a man’s hat are clear, but Micah just wants to look at you.

There you stand, wearing his usual colors. His shirt, his hat, a bandana around your neck that he bought you. He can feel that growing need as shivers shoot through him, but he doesn’t want to take a single thing off of you. He wants to stare at you like this forever. You are so undeniably his that he can’t believe it’s true, but when you smile at him he’s reminded that he is also yours. He may have you clad in defining clothes that hide marks he’s made all over your skin in moments of passion, but you have him so completely subdued. That’s why he doesn’t move an inch when you pick up your hat and carefully place it on his head. He watches you every inch of the way and his chest tightens when he can feel the snug grip around his skull.

“Shit…” He mutters, mind racing at what he really wants to do with all of this.

He wants you, he really wants you. He doesn’t care if he takes you against a tree or you take him down in the dirt, he just wants to feel you. But he doesn’t want to ruin this. The intimacy of this moment is different from any he’s ever had. It’s belonging, it’s care, and it’s such a new feeling to Micah that it scares him a little. He doesn't want it to stop. So he’s glad when you step back instead of pulling him closer because he couldn’t have held it in if you had.

“Y-Ya look real nice…” Micah finds himself lost as you tilt your head, hiding your face with his hat just like he does.

“Wow, Micah.” You chuckle. “Not going soft, are you?”

Micah shakes his head, trying to get a thought that isn’t you to the front of his mind and hiding his red face from you. “Watch it, cowpoke.”

“I love you, even if you are.”

Micah snorts when he laughs. “I ain’t soft.”

“Look at me then.” You say, taking a step closer to him. “If you’re not yellow.”

He looks up, fast, and is met with a devilish smile on your face. “Ya tryin’ ta start something, darlin’?”

“With you? Of course.” You shrug, turning to your horse. “A race. To the hotel in town”

Micah gazes at you for a moment, your sheer audacity hitting all of the right places. “I love ya, but I ain’t losin’ just ‘cause ya look nice in my stuff.”

“Whatever you say, Micah.”

“Damn right, whatever I say.” He pulls himself onto Baylock and turns towards the road. “I win and yer in fer quite a night, cowboy.”

“Promise?”

Micah grins, taking off before you can start anything properly. You follow behind as closely as you can, not really wanting to win this time anyway.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

[tracybirds]

Where Parallel Lines Meet (6/?)

wee bit overdue but wow February sure was a month..... I managed to carve out time to add to this in lil chunks and I'm so glad I got to finish this chapter :D More of what I love, John and Alan being bros and chatting about life! I think given university has started for me and given I'm knee deep in work and various other projects that I'm shifting my loose schedule aim to a chapter a month, at least until things calm down <3 That'll give me time to work on other things too which strikes the happy balance I want :D

Huge thanks to @gumnut-logic who had the dubious honour of reading all the bits and pieces that I sent, entirely out of order because of who I am as a person, and being lovely and supportive and also everyone who commented and left likes and reblogged and things bc I'm not the best at replying bc time who but I love you all all the same (I'm writing this late at night, can you tell from the sap??)

Title is adapted from a line in Sarah Howes’ poem ‘Relativity’ (scroll to the bottom of the article)

A fight between John and Alan is followed by an interstellar storm with unexpected consequences.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7]

---

“Keep it steady,” said Alan, eyes darting across to John’s hands flying across the controls. “She needs more thrust, don’t hesitate.”

John’s jaw was set hard as stone as he eased the throttle forward, his gaze firm and never once leaving the navigational display.

Fast as he moved, there was an undeniable indecision in his motion, his usual dexterity made clumsy with uncertainty.

The experience would come soon enough, Alan knew that, but for now he quietly compensated for John’s mistakes as his fingers lingered on controls rather than leaping to the next task. 

Anything to keep them flying as long as possible, exhilaration keeping them aloft as much as the laws of virtual physics programmed into the simulator.

Wide, green eyes left the screen for a split second, a grin spreading across John’s face as he looked at Alan. The sky beneath their feet swooped upwards with the momentary lapse of concentration, vertigo rushing through Alan’s head as John hit the controls a moment too late, the plane careening to the side.

Alan had been in this situation before, knew how to shift his body weight backwards, how to plant his feet firmly on the floor and brace. Muscle memory took over, a laser focus in his eye as he moved, leaning over to slam the keys on John’s side when he didn’t react like he should have.

It wasn’t enough to be a team, not when they flew the Thunderbirds. A team was made up of individuals, who all banded together and worked towards a common goal. Alan had spent years having the fact drilled into him – if all he had was a team surrounding him when things went wrong, people would get hurt.

His brothers were more than a team. They were his co-pilots. Extensions of one machine, living and breathing not a common goal but the exact same one.

He could hear John yelling in his ear, yelling loud and long and tinged blue with fear and Alan didn’t give up, wouldn’t give up but he was down a co-pilot and the ocean blue beneath him rushed upwards until it filled his vision and his eyes snapped upwards to…

Black.

John’s shuddery gasps echoed around him while Alan sat back in the chair, stunned.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a simulator crash.

He groped with his right hand, feeling for the edge of John’s chair while his vision still swirled with the bright light of the computerised ocean.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah,” said John, sounding shaken. “Didn’t think I’d freeze like that.”

“Mental overload,” said Alan. “J-Scott told me the first time that it happens to everyone.”

“Guess that’s the point,” said John. “Figured we’d just get a ‘Game Over’ screen not…”

He trailed off and in the dim light, Alan could just see his hand waving vaguely at the screen.

“Was it meant to do that?” asked John.

Alan snorted.

“Were we meant to crash into the ocean, you mean? I don’t want to fly with you if you think that’s the final destination.”

“I’m not an idiot,” said John, in a lofty tone that Alan just knew was accompanied by his signature eye roll.

Really, they might be able to trademark it soon.

“I meant was it a winnable scenario, could I do it better?”

“Yes,” said Alan, standing and stretching. “You could. But not now, I want food before we go for another round.”

“Aw, do we have to?”

Alan poked him in the back, digging his fingers into the place that he knew would make John jump to his feet.

“Yes, we do, it’s like three in the afternoon. And I’ve still got assignments to do.”

“You always have assignments to do.”

“Yeah, well I got behind,” said Alan, mouth twisting uncomfortably downwards. “You better take a look at what Brains gave you too otherwise you’ll be barred from the sims.”

They left the room, wandering back towards the elevator that would take them upstairs.

“I just wanted one more go,” said John, glancing back over his shoulder at the pokey little room. “I could have done it.”

“Then consider this a debrief. You always need food at a proper debrief, that’s rule number one about debrief.”

“What’s rule number two?”

Alan grinned.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

John pulled a face at him and they laughed and joked together all the way up to the kitchen.

They gathered the ingredients quickly, stacking them a mile high and laughing as Alan’s sandwich toppled sideways and John’s became more cheese than anything else.

“Let’s go up to the round house,” suggested Alan. “Good food, good views, and all that.”

A few short minutes later, they collapsed on the balcony, legs swinging freely over the side.

The sun shone bright in the sky, lazily sliding in and out from behind the clouds. Silver capped waves were rolling far below them over the deep blue of the ocean and the wind sang a gentle song in their ears as it rustled through the forest.

It was a fine afternoon, one of those days that made Alan glad he lived in this beautiful place.

Gradually the chatter between the brothers died away, each enraptured by the moment before them which demanded attention and directed them to silence.

Alan tried to think back to the last time he’d been here, captured in this moment on the balcony with a different John.

A small act, sharing lunch and laughs together, something they’d done a thousand times, yet Alan couldn’t recall when it had last happened.

He loved John, he really did, but he didn’t want him overwriting his precious memories. He wished the old John – no! His John, he fiercely reminded himself – had been home more, wished that the Chaos Crew hadn’t stolen those last few weeks away.

He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat.

For the hundredth time he apologised silently for that last argument, for being a source of stress when he should have been anything else.

Ironically, he thought he understood his older brother more than ever now that he wasn’t here.

From far away, they couldn’t hear the breaking of the waves, but Alan had grown up with its song in his ears, the gentle tossing of the waters one he could recall at will.

A seabird drifted on the wind, bobbing up and down on unseen currents as it glided over the ocean. As Alan watched, it banked and dove, making a beeline for its cliffside home.

Together, he and John sat in silence, soaking up the sun and the taste of salt in the air, an easy peace settling between them.

An electric hum began to gather in the air, compression waves carrying an engine roar over the ocean, and Alan knew that sound better than his own heartbeat.

“Is that Thunderbird One?” asked John, squinting a little as the sound enveloped them.

The first glimmer of red in the far-off distance confirmed it seconds later and Alan felt his spirits start to soar over the horizon with it.

Scott was home.

“It sure is,” he answered, but already John needed no reply as Thunderbird One approached at speed, shifting smoothly into vertical descent and hovering as the pool slowly retracted.

Alan knew Scott wouldn’t be looking for them, but he couldn’t help but wave all the same.

“Virgil and Gordon can’t be far behind,” he said. “And they weren’t out for long, I hope it went okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

Alan’s excitement at seeing Thunderbird One, which always felt as though he were seeing Scott himself, faded away into a sombre sadness that always lived inside him.

“It doesn’t always,” was all he said.

John looked down, eyes following Thunderbird One as she descended into the depths of the island hangar far below them.

“Oh.”

Alan reached out and clasped his shoulder, compassion brimming in his eyes as he looked at him.

“Hey now, there’s no use making assumptions,” he said. “With any luck, it was easier than they expected and they’ll all get a bit of a break. Might even get to watch a whole movie with them.”

“As long as it’s not that stupid fighter pilot one,” said John with a scowl. “We’ve started it like five times already.”

Alan laughed.

“It’s Gordon’s turn, don’t worry.”

“That worries me more,” retorted John.

“Only downside is Scott will want to see my progress,” said Alan, groaning as he leant back and stared up at the sky. “It never feels like I’m any closer to being done. Least he can help me with the geometric reasoning thing, I keep mucking it up.”

John rolled his eyes.

“You could have said, I’d have helped you.”

Alan snorted.

“You,” he said jabbing a finger at John, “were busy sulking about being bored and how I did nothing but dumb assignments literally three days ago.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

“Well, maybe,” said John, pouting a little. “But it was true, I was bored. At least now I have the sims.”

“And assignments of your own? Brains gave you that packet, right?”

John coughed.

“I guess, technically, yeah,” he said squirming a little. “It might still be on my bedside table though.”

Alan groaned.

“Scott’s gonna kill me and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

“History’s just so boring,” whined John. “Who cares what some old guy did a hundred years ago?”

“You’re right, a hundred years ago they only landed on the Moon,” said Alan, sarcastically. “Hasn’t changed humanity forever at all. We only have Martian colonies now.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine I take your point. But it’s not like it’s on the Moon landing, it’s all the Revolutionary War and stuff.”

He caught Alan’s eye and shrugged.

“I did at least read it,” he said.

“Whatever you say, squirt,” said Alan.

John scowled at the nickname that never ceased to delight Alan, but he made no argument. He shuffled closer, a hard light glinting in his eyes that told of a sudden resolve to ask something that had been plaguing him for a while now.

“Go on,” he said, waving his hand at John. “What’re you thinking?”

John looked at him, clear consideration in his eyes.

“I’ve just been wondering,” he said. “Why do you have so many assignments?”

Alan stared, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could see John more clearly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t have nearly as many,” said John. “Besides, your portrait’s got an iR uniform on, the others listen when you say something about a rescue, and you’re a whizz on those simulators. I can’t see why they’d stop you from going except you’re always doing school stuff instead. And I can’t figure out where it’s all come from.”

Alan didn’t know what to say.

Or he did, but he didn’t want to say it.

It had been one thing, slipping into John’s room all those weeks ago to talk things through with him, to apologise and make up. He’d done it a thousand times before but the last time had never happened and the torn edges of that relationship still ran jagged inside him.

He knew what John would have said, knew how John would have helped pick him back up again like all his brothers had before. But it hadn’t happened this time.

And it was an entirely different thing to admit his foolishness to this John who was so fierce and righteous, more likely to mock him than forgive him.

He screwed up his courage, coiling his stomach like a spring and steeling his nerve.

“Like I said, I got behind. I messed up,” he said. “Plain and simple. Scott and John pulled me from duty just before…”

He trailed off, staring out across the water, unsure if he’d said too much. John was still a touchy subject for, well, John and Alan stole a glance at his little brother.

Although not so little now, he was starting to grow as fast as Alan was.

But rather than looking upset at the mention of his counterpart, John appeared more indignant than anything else, a familiar fire in his eyes as he prepared to scorch the injustices of the world.

“You made one mistake? That’s it? And so they piled on the work so you’d never have fun again?”

“That’s not what...” began Alan, but John was off, ranting as though he’d been personally dealt the blow. In seconds he was on his feet, pacing back and forth on the balcony as he raved. He looked so much like John, furious at Fischler or shouting down some paper’s conclusion or drawn into some interest that he couldn’t help but move as he explained his thoughts.

He twisted around suddenly with a fierce scowl.

“And you just take it, Alan, I’ve never met anyone so… so…”

He struggled for a moment, then flopped back down next to him.

“You’re just so agreeable,” he said. “You seem to think they’re right and that’s the worst part of all.”

John lay down, his arms spread wide.

“Worked it out of your system now?” asked Alan with an amused smile.

“Probably not. You’re gonna say something stupid about how they are right, aren’t you.”

“Yup.”

“Fine,” said John. “I’m listening.”

Alan thought for a moment, wondering how to start.

“It’s been ramping up for a while. The Chaos Crew, I mean. You know who they are?”

John nodded.

“They were running circles around us before you arrived. I don’t know when they slept because it sure felt like we didn’t. At first it was easy, leaving an essay to go help on an emergency. I could do it when I got back, or the next morning. No big deal, and then I could ask Virgil to help me with it. Only I couldn’t. There wasn’t any time, not for any of us and then I realised that I didn’t have enough required homeschooling hours to complete the term and half a dozen assignments due so I hacked the system so it wouldn’t alert anyone. I mean what was the big deal, I could catch up over the term break easy.”

“I guess you didn’t do that.”

Alan shook his head.

“It all sort of snowballed from there. The school eventually cottoned on and their truancy officer contacted Scott.”

“Busted,” said John.

“Yep.”

Silence fell between them, and Alan’s thoughts drifted back to Scott, who would be running through the post-flight checks as they spoke. He almost wished Scott had been told earlier, wished for a moment’s notice that might have told his brothers that he hadn’t been doing okay.

“They should have seen how bad it had gotten,” said John. “They shouldn’t have had to be told.”

Alan looked over at him, carefully assessing his words.

“It wasn’t their fault,” he said with a shrug. “It ramped up so slowly, none of us saw it. And now that I’ve broken free of that, I see it even more.”

He sighed, lost in thought, wondering if they’d ever see the end to the chaos being scattered across the globe.

“It’s not always like this,” he said at last. “The others aren’t usually gone so much, Brains isn’t always busy and Grandma usually never leaves unless it’s time to go shopping.”

He grinned.

“Grandma loves shopping, she’s probably going to bring home a mountain when they figure out what happened to you.”

“What’s it normally like then?” asked John.

“I don’t know,” said Alan. “Less lonely, I guess. If you weren’t here, I’d be by myself.”

He shot John a small smile.

“I’m glad I’m not. By myself, I mean.”

He frowned, trying to think of how best to answer John’s question.

“I guess normally it’s more balanced. I still have school, but I help out on rescues too. Scott isn’t as stressed, Virgil and Gordon are usually hanging around, making food and swimming in the pool and stuff. Kayo’s here too and we’d play games together and help Brains trial stuff.”

“And I’m up in space,” said John, a wistful tone in his voice.

“Yeah, you are,” said Alan, but then he nudged him and laughed. “Wouldn’t always feel like it though, you pop up and chat all the time. Sometimes you’d let me come up for ‘zero gravity training’ but we’d just play games and look at the stars and talk. I miss that. Even if he was here and you weren’t, I’d still miss that. He didn’t have a lot of time for me in the end.”

“Wow, so I was a jerk, huh?”

Alan gave John an odd look.

“That’s not what I meant. He didn’t have much time at all. Like I said, it’s not normally like this, the Chaos Crew are running all the others ragged. They’re exhausted and I can’t help them until I catch up, that’s the deal.”

“It’s a shit deal.”

Alan shrugged.

“The whole situation’s shit. Doesn’t make it any better to waste time complaining about it. Bottom line is when I get them done, I can help again.”

“And then I guess you’ll leave me too.”

The words were muttered, not meant for anyone else’s ears, but Alan knew that feeling, knew that fear of being left behind more than any of the rest of them, and so they rang in his ears loud and clear.

“I’ll still have school,” he said, hesitantly, knowing how the reassurance would fall flat and inadequate. “And with me back out on rescues, the others will be home more, they’ll have time to rest.”

They sat in silence.

“Well then,” said Alan. “I guess, the other option is that you kill it on those sims so you can come out too.”

“You think they’d let me? Doesn’t seem like Scott’s going to be keen any time soon.”

Alan snorted.

“Scott let me fly a rocket when I was fourteen. He’ll let you do anything if you prove yourself.”

He tapped his wrist, pulling up the time and thinking it over.

“Scott’s probably out of the shower and things by now if we want to ambush him. Or if he’s wanting a nap, we could get some more practice sessions in for you. I can do the geometry thing after dinner.

John leapt to his feet.

“Well, hurry up then! What are we waiting for?”

Alan laughed and hauled himself upright.

He couldn’t help but love the easy excitement John brought to the sims, which were in all truth fairly boring. Alan had done them over and over, knew them inside out and could fly most of them with his eyes closed.

The sims were fun, the next best to flying for real and Alan missed flying so much it ached in his chest.

But there was a fresh vibrancy to them now with a younger brother to teach and as he raced after John, carrying the plates he’d left on the balcony in his excitement, he couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift and his heart leapt with a thrilling jolt of excitement.

Alan smiled broadly.

He was really starting to like having a little brother.

[Part 7]

#john tracy #alan tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

[denimbex1986]

'Before Christian Bale landed the role of Batman/Bruce Wayne in Christopher Nolan’s “Dark Knight” trilogy, the filmmaker screen-tested his “Oppenheimer” star Cillian Murphy. Both men have since admitted that Murphy was never a real threat to steal the part from Bale, and Murphy told GQ Magazine UK in a recent interview that it “was for the best” that Bale won the coveted role over him anyway.

“Yes, I think it was for the best because we got Christian Bale’s performance, which is a stunning interpretation of that role,” Murphy said. “I never considered myself as the right physical specimen for Batman. To me, it was always going to be Christian Bale.”

Nolan didn’t think Murphy was right for the part either, but he still screen-tested him for Batman so that executives at Warner Bros. could see what an amazing actor he was. The director wanted Murphy to play the film’s villain, Scarecrow, but Murphy wasn’t exactly a huge movie star. The previous formula for Batman movies was that a big star played the hero’s villain, but Nolan wanted to shake things up.

“Everybody was so excited by watching [Cillian] perform that when I then said to them, ‘Okay, Christian Bale is Batman, but what about Cillian to play Scarecrow?’ There was no dissent,” Nolan recently told Entertainment Weekly. “All the previous Batman villains had been played by huge movie stars: Jack Nicholson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jim Carrey, that kind of thing. That was a big leap for them and it really was purely on the basis of that test. So that’s how you got to play Scarecrow.”

“Batman Begins” would be the first of six collaborations between Nolan and Murphy. He reprised Scarecrow in two more Batman movies and then had supporting roles in “Inception” and “Dunkirk” before landing his first Nolan lead role in “Oppenheimer.” It turns out Murphy was eyed to play the theoretical physicist almost a decade before Nolan’s biographical drama.

In a recent Vanity Fair story, television creator Sam Shaw looked back at the making of his WGN America series “Manhattan.” The period drama covered the same ground as Nolan’s “Oppenheimer” in telling the story of the Manhattan Project’s efforts to build the first atomic bomb in Los Alamos, N.M. The acclaimed series ran for two seasons in 2014 and 2016. Oppenheimer was a recurring character on the show played by Daniel London, but series writer Lila Byock said Murphy was on the team’s wish list.

“When we were casting Oppenheimer, we went through a whole series of different ideas,” Byock said, before adding, “A thousand percent, Cillian Murphy was on that list.”

“We wanted Oppenheimer to feel both like he possessed a certain undeniable charisma, a presence onstage, but also that he was playing a different instrument,” Shaw said. “He needed to feel alien — or other — in some ways. He stood out.”

Nearly 10 years later, Murphy is finally Oppenehimer and earning the best reviews of his career. Nolan’s film is now playing in theaters nationwide from Universal Pictures.'

#Christopher Nolan #Oppenheimer #Christian Bale #Lila Byock #Manhattan #The Dark Knight Trilogy #Cillian Murphy #Scarecrow #Inception #Dunkirk #Jack Nicholson #Arnold Schwarzenegger #Jim Carrey

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (13/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 13

As he promised he would, Picard takes Louis to the climbing wall.

It’s in a gymnasium that’s used by the school rooms during the day for PE and recess. Picard wasn’t aware of this. He isn’t aware of most of the details concerning how school aboard the Enterprise operates. It never really concerned him. But as he stands at the threshold of a gymnasium packed to the brim with running, laughing, screaming children, he realizes he may need a crash course.

“I’m so sorry!” says the woman in charge. She’s a civilian, and judging by her flustered hand-wringing, he guesses she never imagined her day would involve a run-in with the ship’s captain.

“Quite alright,” Picard returns genially, already backing towards the door. “It’s my mistake. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”

The poor woman grimaces. “Your…he’s…” Then she seems to find her courage, for she takes a deep breath and speaks directly to Louis. “You can join the other kids, if you want. This isn’t a class; they’re all just playing.”

But Louis shrinks against Picard’s side, shakes his head in a firm negative.

“Some other time, perhaps,” Picard says, gently pulling Louis into the corridor with him. “Thank you for the invitation.”

The door closes on another of the woman’s apologies. The quiet of the corridor is immediate relief from the sensory bombardment of the gymnasium, and Picard finds himself utterly unable to move for several heartbeats, stunned by the contrast.

“Papa?”

Picard blinks, looks down.

Was it the noise that deterred Louis from joining in? The sheer number of other children? The frenetic energy? The combination of all three?

In any case, Picard can sympathize, as he’d rather walk into a bar full of rowdy Nausicaans than back into that gym.

“Let’s try the holodeck instead, shall we?” he suggests.

He chooses one of the smaller holodecks, checks that it’s available for at least an hour, then shuffles through the climbing programs until he finds one that’s appropriate. He pauses before initiating the program, raises a brow at Louis.

“Ropes, or non?”

Louis grins. “Non.”

Picard grins back. As I suspected.

-/-

They climb for nearly an hour before exhaustion forces Picard to the mats. Panting, he lays on his back and contemplates the ceiling, which the holodeck saw fit to mask with a starry night sky. It’s a strange accompaniment to the walls, which are undeniably artificial, swathes of bare wood speckled with multicolored holds in a preposterous variety of shapes and sizes.

After a moment, Louis drops onto the mat beside him. From the impact, Picard can tell he leapt from quite far up. If it were 45 minutes earlier, he might have been concerned, but during that time he’s seen Louis both jump and fall from just about every climb, every height.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks.

Picard chuckles. “I’m fine. Just out of practice.”

He’d forgotten how physically demanding climbing could be. His fingers are sore from the holds, and his forearms ache terribly. He may have pushed himself beyond his limits, especially on that overhang, but he’d balked at the implication that he no longer possessed the required upper body strength.

Surely, he’ll be made to regret his decisions tomorrow. As it is, he hopes he won’t require the use of his hands for the rest of the day.

Louis lays next to him, Picard presumes out of solidarity rather than fatigue—aside from the wet tendrils of hair plastered to his temples, Picard can discern no visible signs of exertion.

“You can continue,” Picard tells him. “You don’t have to stop because I stopped.”

Louis shrugs, settles his hands over his stomach. “Are the stars real?” he asks.

“No, they’re holographic simulations.”

“I mean are they real constellations?”

“Oh. I don’t think so. If they are, I don’t recognize them.” Not that he’s familiar with every system’s unique constellations.

Gradually, his gaze drifts back down, to one particular climb, the one comprised entirely of black crimp holds that had stumped him. To his chagrin, he’d had to abandon it halfway through. Louis had tried as well and failed similarly. Studying it now, Picard thinks he sees the solution.

Next time, he thinks ruefully.

Picard turns his head, regards Louis’s profile. “When did you start climbing?”

“I don’t know,” Louis replies with a frown. “I was little. I used to climb your bookcase.”

“My bookcase?”

Louis nods. “Maman didn’t like it.”

“I bet she didn’t.”

Picard remembers his own mother’s reaction the day he’d climbed onto the kitchen counters to retrieve a sweet from the cabinets. He’d been scaling the shelves, which could easily have broken beneath his weight and sent him crashing to the floor. His father had run in, drawn by his mother’s terrified scream…

“One day you caught me,” Louis says.

Picard raises a brow. “And then what happened?”

“You took me here.”

“To the holodeck? To climb?”

“Oui.”

Picard can picture it as clearly as though it’s his own memory. He imagines that other Picard leading the younger version of Louis—the one from the photograph—by the hand, lifting him onto the wall, guiding him from hold to hold, hovering behind, poised to catch him if he fell.

Is that the kind of father the other version of him was? The kind that didn’t punish his son for his impulses but instead guided his energies towards safer outlets?

Patience, Beverly told him. Being a parent requires patience.

It’s not a son’s duty in life to be everything their father wants them to be; eventually, Louis will make a bad decision, get into trouble, disappoint Picard…but that’s natural. Picard will probably make some poor choices as well and disappoint Louis—but he hopes to always have the patience and compassion Louis deserves.

The patience and compassion Picard wishes his own father had had for him.

With a groan, he rolls to his knees, then gets to his feet. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s do one more climb. You’re going to finish that route with the black holds.”

Louis stands with him but shakes his head. “Papa, I’m too small. My arms aren’t long enough.”

“I’m going to help you.”

Picard has to perch on an adjacent route to do so, but he manages to keep his hand firmly against the small of Louis’s back; without the support, Louis could never have managed the simultaneous sideways swing and upwards push the route required.

It’s probably cheating, but Picard doesn’t care.

Afterwards, they pick up their clothes from where they’re folded and stacked near the archway. The holodeck replicated athleticwear for them, and though Picard doesn’t relish the idea of parading through the ship in a skintight jumpsuit, he doesn’t think he currently has the dexterity in his fingers to peel it off. At least, not without a struggle, which he’d rather do in private and not in front of Louis.

With a sigh, he realizes he may finally have a reason to use his bathtub.

-/-

Entering their quarters, they run headlong into a team of structural engineers in yellow jumpsuits.

“Apologies, captain,” says one of them, moving aside to allow Picard and Louis to step in.

“No apologies necessary,” Picard assures him. “I appreciate your prompt response. Have you made any progress?”

Just to the left of the entrance, where his display case previously stood, is now a doorway. Louis has his back against Picard’s leg, and it’s because of this that Picard feels him lean sideways, peering into the newly revealed room.

“We actually just finished,” replies the same man as before—Picard assumes the one in charge. “Once we clean up our equipment we’ll be out of your way.”

“Take your time.” He feels Louis wobble and gently tugs him straight before the boy topples onto his face.

The foreman sees, suppresses a smile. “We, uh, we didn’t know where you wanted your things, captain, so we put them somewhere safe.”

He gestures towards the sitting area, where Picard’s possessions are laid neatly upon the coffee table.

“Thank you.”

The man nods, then looks at Louis. “I’m assuming this room is for you, young man?”

“Yes,” Louis responds.

“Would you like to see it?”

Louis looks up at Picard. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

Louis shuffles into the doorway and Picard follows. The room beyond is similar in dimension to Picard’s bedroom. There’s a bed beneath the windows—a large one, as requested—a small bedside table, a bookcase, and—another special request—a drawing desk.

It’s strange, to have an entire room here where before there was nothing. It solidifies for him the fact that he no longer lives alone. That this is permanent.

“Well, what do you think?” he asks quietly.

Louis goes and lays his hand on the tilted surface of the desk, then turns to the bed. After a moment, he offers Picard a grin. “C'est parfait.”

It’s perfect.

-/-

Louis bathes and changes into a newly replicated pair of clothes, then Picard gives him free rein to fill his room with whatever he wishes. After finding a new home for his own displaced books and trinkets and unobtrusively checking in with Will, Picard decides to take that bath.

The relief is immediate, and Picard nearly lets out a moan as he slips into the hot water. He hasn’t been this sore since they were training for Celtris III. As it’s wont to do, his mind shies away from the memory of that period; he focuses instead on the heat of the water against his shoulders and back, the gradual relaxation of his overtaxed muscles.

His enjoyment is short-lived, however, as moments after he’s settled, he hears the door chime.

“I’ll get it,” Louis announces.

Picard opens his mouth and sucks in a breath to call for him to wait, but it’s too late—the door whooshes open and Beverly’s voice responds to Louis’s greeting. He freezes. It’s pure animal panic, the frightened prey instinct whispering in his mind that if he doesn’t move, no one will see him.

Or, in this case, if he doesn’t move, Beverly won’t hear him—won’t hear that he’s in the bath.

His entire body flushes, a reaction totally unrelated to the temperature of the water. He strains to hear what Louis and Beverly are saying over the thundering of his own heartbeat.

“I have something for you, Louis.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Here. It’s a book of anatomy. You seemed very interested in seeing the scan of your bones this morning. I thought you might like this.”

“I…I can keep it?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a gift.”

A pause, in which Picard can only imagine the emotion on Louis’s face—wishes he were out there to actually witness it.

“Thank you. I like it very much.”

“I’m glad.” Another pause, then, “Is your father here?”

Oh, no. No no no no no—

“He’s in the bathtub.”

“Do you mean the bathroom?”

“Yes, he’s in the bathroom. He’s taking a bath.”

Silence.

Picard begs the universe to make Beverly leave.

“The bath?” Both amusement and disbelief are plain in her tone, and when she calls his name, her voice is noticeably closer. “Jean-Luc?”

A stream of curse words erupts in his mind as he swiftly rearranges himself so that the only part of his body not submerged is his head; there’s a thin layer of bubbles floating on the surface of the water that should obscure most of his underwater form, but he covers himself with his hands nonetheless.

It’s with an iron grip on his emotions and steel in his voice that he grinds out, “Can I help you, doctor?”

Beverly stops in the doorway, folds her arms over her chest, and leans on the frame. “Can I help you, captain? Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps—then takes a deep breath, re-gathers his control. “I’m just a little sore after climbing, that’s all.”

Louis is standing just behind her with a book clutched to his chest. He’s looking back and forth between Picard and Beverly, an obvious smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Picard will have to have a discussion with him about who (no one) is allowed into their quarters, and when (never) they’re allowed to enter while Picard’s in the bath.

“You might want to try some epsom salt,” Beverly says.

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Epsom salt,” she repeats. “If you add it to the bathwater and soak in it, it will help soothe your sore muscles.”

Without waiting for his response, she turns and departs. When she strides back into the bathroom, she’s holding a container, which she sets on the edge of the tub.

“Thank you,” he says grudgingly.

“You’re welcome.”

For an instant—it happens so fast Picard will later convince himself he imagined it—her eyes dip lower, to the cluster of rapidly thinning bubbles he estimates to be the only thing keeping his private parts private.

It…doesn’t offend him. He feels another rush of heat, the quickening of his pulse—

But then her eyes are on his again—or they never left—and she says, “I’ll be by again tonight.”

He assumes she means to drop off what she promised would help him with his nightmares.

Beverly turns to Louis. “Will you walk me to the door?”

He smiles and hums an affirmative, leads her away with that book still clutched to his chest.

Alone, Picard slips beneath the water. How can one day contain some of both his highest and lowest moments?

-/-

Beverly nearly runs back to sickbay, her face hot. She knows she shouldn’t have walked in on Jean-Luc like that, but she couldn’t resist—she couldn’t believe that Jean-Luc Picard was actually taking a bath.

She embarrassed him, and she regrets that. But there’d been a moment, just a moment, when her self-control slipped and her gaze had wandered to where she could see his body below the surface of the water, and when she’d met his eyes again, there’d been a tingle across her skin like electricity, because in his eyes she saw that he noticed her looking.

Noticed, and…didn’t mind.

Stop, she tells herself firmly. You’re imagining things.

Sweeping into sickbay, she heads to her office, determined to bury herself in her work until she forgets that for 5 seconds she thought Jean-Luc might have enjoyed her looking at him naked.

/-

By the evening, there’s still no word from Starfleet concerning Picard’s report, so at dinnertime he decides to stop pretending to work and take Louis to Ten Forward for dinner.

He needs to go somewhere—do something—to keep his mind off of Beverly.

Trying not to think of her has been like trying to close the lid of a box that’s far too full—it takes great effort, and even when he does manage to close it, it springs back open at the slightest provocation.

He assumes it’s because of the physical, her hands on his back, his stomach—and the fact that anything she didn’t see in sickbay bay that morning she probably saw in his bathtub…

But this preoccupation is inappropriate. He promised himself he would never act on his feelings for her, and in order to keep that promise he needs to keep those feelings…distant. Contained.

Having a goal—go to Ten Forward, have dinner—helps center him, helps him organize his thoughts and carefully tuck certain things deep, deep down.

Before leaving their quarters, Picard asks permission to see Louis’s room.

“Non!” Louis says quickly, then bites his lower lip in a sheepish smile. “It’s not finished yet.”

Picard waves Louis through the door with a chuckle. “I shall wait then.”

The boy had busied himself all afternoon with the book Beverly gave him; first reading from it, then copying the illustrations. Despite their lack of interaction for the majority of that period, Picard found it quite companionable—once he acclimated to the presence of another person in his quarters, that is.

It took some effort to ignore Louis’s movements, to tune out the sound of pages turning and pencil scratching paper. The boy also hums to himself when he draws. But he was completely absorbed, completely comfortable, and Picard can’t help but be made happy by that.

“Did Data teach you to draw?” he asks as they walk.

“Not really,” Louis replies. “He mostly paints. He tried to teach me to paint like him, but I don’t like paint.”

“No?”

Louis makes a face. “It’s messy. And I don’t like how it…” He lifts his hands, makes a squiggly gesture Picard can’t quite decipher. “Moves. I don’t like how paint moves.”

“Ah. So you prefer the precision of a pencil?”

“Yes. And colored pencils,” Louis confirms.

The boy is slowly handing him bits and pieces of himself, and Picard’s hoarding the information, the glimpses of his personality, like treasure

Ten Forward is packed to the brim, but they snag two seats at the bar that Picard suspects Guinan was saving for them. She attends to them the moment they sit down, and while they eat two plates of chicken piccata from the kitchen, Louis peppers Guinan with questions.

“Do you make the drinks or does the replicator?” he asks.

“Both.”

“How many drinks do you know how to make?”

“I’ve never counted.”

“More than a hundred?”

“Probably.”

“More than two hundred?”

“Maybe not that many.”

“Which drink is your favorite?”

Guinan smiles. “I’ll make it for you.” She holds up a hand to stop Picard’s protest. “It’s non-alcoholic, I promise.”

Picard watches her sweep away, and over Louis’s head, he sees the doors open and Deanna and Will walk through.

Will somehow notices them immediately, his resulting grin a beacon in the dim, crowded room—but before Will can take a step in their direction, Deanna grabs his arm, jerks him down to her level so she can whisper furiously in his ear. His grin evaporates, and it’s with the expression of a chastised child that he nods soberly at Picard and then lets Deanna lead him towards a table by the windows.

They haven’t discussed how best to introduce Louis to people he may remember from his past, people who died. Picard was confident Louis wouldn’t know Guinan, as in his reality his father is still Locutus and therefore never time traveled to 1893 to meet Guinan in San Franciso, but Will…

Picard suspects Will played a poignant role in Louis’s life.

Deanna and Will are slipping out of view. Picard hurriedly looks away before Louis notices—but Louis already noticed.

His face is stark white.

“Uncle Will,” he murmurs, gaze tracking Will’s back until he sits down and is no longer visible.

“Louis,” Picard says, laying a hand on his shoulder in an effort to draw the boy’s attention.

Louis startles, looks at Picard. “He saved me. Uncle Will saved me.”

“I know,” Picard returns calmly. He squeezes Louis’s shoulder gently. “Would you like to meet him?”

Louis shakes his head. Picard feels his shoulder tremble, then go rigid.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Louis mumbles. He slides off his chair and disappears into the crowd. Picard watches him, watches the door to the restroom close.

Guinan sets a drink on the bar next to his elbow. “Is he okay?” she asks. “He looks like he saw a ghost.”

He did.

Picard stands. “I’ll be right back.”

He turns and Deanna’s there, wearing an urgent expression that sends ice slithering into his stomach.

“Captain, where’s Louis?”

“He’s in the bathroom. I was just going to che—”

“Something’s wrong.”

Picard has no memory of moving from one place to the next, he’s only aware of arriving in the bathroom and finding Louis sitting on the floor against the wall, clutching his knees to his chest and gasping for air.

#star trek: tng #star trek: the next generation #tng #star trek fic #tng fic #star trek #the next generation #picard #picard fic

[doobler]

Watching

Summer in Pelican Town got surprisingly intense near the season's apex. The heat wave that rose from the asphalt near the broken-down bus was visible, warbling your vision the longer you stared. Everyone always looked parched, even the villagers who adored this time of year. Birds floated about lazily and the siren call of the crisp blue ocean was undeniable.

Haley and Alex basked in the sun despite the searing heat. They lounged together on beach towels, soothed by the salty sea breeze as they gossiped. The only thing that snagged their interest was Casey, the town's very own enigmatic farmer, as he approached.

He'd gone shirtless for his chores today, a dark flannel tied around his waist and a jet black cowboy hat perched on his head. His wiry muscled frame was shimmering with sweat, every scar on unabashed display. Haley and Alex watched, slightly slack-jawed, as Casey marched through the sand towards the dock, an empty bucket gripped in his prosthetic hand and a fishing pole slanted over one shoulder. He waved, his usual terrifying scowl softening when he smiled at the pair.

"Goodness," Haley gasped, blinking sand out of her eyes to clear her vision. "You just know it's big."

"Know what's big?"

Haley and Alex whipped their heads around. Behind them, looking flushed and scandalized, was Elliott. A year of living on the beach helped him traverse the sand and errant pebbles as silent as a shadow. He followed their shared line of interest, his cheeks only burning hotter when he noticed Casey fishing away on the dock. His muscles rippled as he reeled back and casted his line. Even if his busy map of scars were meant to be hideous, they only made him that much more attractive. His mismatched eyes, his charcoal hair artfully streaked with platinum, his strong broad hands, his shapely rear--

"I guess we're all staring, huh?" Haley looked smug as both boys fumbled with excuses.

"A man can appreciate another man's muscles without it bein' gay!"

"Indeed! I simply can find good inspiration for a classical protagonist in someone as physically fit as our beloved farmer!"

"Hey," Haley's intense grin only widened. "I'm not the one having a crisis here. And I'm not the one who has a special nickname for him."

"I was assured he went by his middle name as equally as 'Casey'," Elliott huffed. "Just because I'm the only one who uses it doesn't mean--"

"Y'all alright?"

The trio jumped as the aforementioned farmer ambled over, tipping back his cowboy hat as he approached.

"Yeah, they're just being dumb silly boys," Haley offered Casey a sweeter smile. "Catch anything good?"

"Naw," Casey sighed. He swung his arm a little, rattling the woefully empty fish bucket. "Guess it's not in the cards today."

"Shame," Haley felt pride in holding some semblance of polite conversation while Alex and Elliott openly stared in stunned silence. "I hope your luck improves."

"Thanks, Haley."

Casey started to walk back into town, only to pause. He looked the three over, his scowl melting into a charming smirk.

"It is big by the way." He made a show in hitching up his jeans one-handed. 

Haley's eyebrows shot up, her face now equally red as her two unlikely companions. Casey tipped his hat before setting off, a low crackly laugh escaping his chest.

#sdv oc #my oc #sdv #stardew valley #sdv haley #sdv elliott #adv alex #tiny fic #huehuehuehue #cassius florian hart

[storyunrelated]

She was entirely capable of moving furniture of course - or at helping with moving it, at least; a lot of furniture was unwieldy when moved solo - but if she spent the whole time actually engaged in strenuous physical activity she’d end up a breathless, sweaty mess and be unable to come across as sufficiently smooth, witty, and charming. The breathless sweaty mess part could wait until later in their inevitable, deeply-passionate relationship. Ba dum psh. Dirty joke. But the smooth, witty, and charming part had to come first if anything else was going to happen, and it was a hard look to pull off when red in the face and flustered from hauling sofas around. Thus, roping in Paul, who could do a good chunk of the hauling for her, thus sparing her some energy to be at least moderately suave and, at the least, get to know her neighbour better. Her logic was watertight! Undeniable! It was just a case of her asking and him saying yes! “What’s in it for me?” Was Paul’s immediate response when she asked. He didn’t even blink, and wasn’t distracted from taking a slice of the pizza that Mia had purchased mostly as an excuse to get him within asking distance and cramming it into his face. Mia was stunned. Partly because of his response, partly because of the speed of his response, and also partly because of the sheer quiet savagery with which he made a slice of pizza disappear. One moment there, the next, gone. She put her feelings about this singular sight in her back pocket for later analysis and possibly at least one nightmare and settled on being slightly outraged at what he’d said, instead. “What’s in it for- how about the quiet joy of helping out a friend? A friend in need!” She said, making sure to lay the wounded outrage on thick. Paul shook his head. “Nah. Need more.”

Moving Furniture

#Amwriting #Writing #Writeblr #Writblr #Quote